‘Analogue’ and ‘artisanal’ pair together well. It’s how we start each project. Long before a design is finalised, we build relationships with makers such as ROA, Kinidea and JC Hospitality. We ask what their traditions are capable of and the creative process begins there.
For the renovation at One&Only Reethi Rah in the Maldives, before we ordered anything from ROA, we visited their weaving house—home to around 40 artisans. Sitting with them, following the raffia through their fingers, I understood why no machine (or instruction through an AI software) could replicate it.
The feature panel we developed together, called Pangihot, draws on Ulos, the traditional Batak textile and its Ragi Idup motif, which represents a long and joyful life bound by love and compassion. We reimagined the original single motif into three concepts within one continuous roll, and redesigned the beadwork as a gradient, so the raffia and beads would shift and deepen across the surface, knot by knot.
For the furniture, we used ROA’s Arun wallcovering, an abaca weave with tonal shading brushed into the fabric before weaving, inspired by the gentle transition of sunrise.
For the edge of the panel, we turned to Kinidea in Bali, which works coconut into a textured surface, pieced and warmed until it carries the scent of the islands into the room.
For the eggshell, we partnered with JC Hospitality, whose artisans work out of a small town in Vietnam, keeping alive a technique found almost nowhere else. It’s inlaid into a dresser, laid across a refreshment cabinet and set against a wardrobe and wet vanity in silver and teal. Parchment runs through the suites, too, on the refreshment cabinet and coffee table, ageing rather than wearing.
All this is what happens when you sit with makers first, on every project, and let their craft lead the design. AI can accelerate ideas, but it cannot inherit tradition. The spaces that endure will always be the ones shaped by human skill, patience and touch. That is what artisanal really means.
