Q&A: Studio Drift Founder Lonneke Gordijn on Nature, Art, and the Limits of Technology

Why do some of Studio Drift’s projects take more than a decade to complete? Because the technology to create them doesn’t exist yet.

Lonneke Gordijn

Lonneke Gordijn and Ralph Nauta founded Studio Drift in 2006—and in the years since, they’ve explored the intersection of nature and technology through captivating installations that boggle the mind—from massive blocks of concrete that appear to float in thin air to fleets of drones that flock and swarm like starlings. 

Dwell recently spoke with Lonneke about Studio Drift’s latest work, about her upcoming talk at Design Indaba 2020, and about what’s next from the boundary-pushing collective.

Lonneke Gordijn

I’d love to start at the beginning. Can you tell me a little about how you started working together with Ralph?

We met when I was 19 when we were still studying, and we became friends instantly. We were interested in each other’s opinions and ways of looking at the world. We also felt like we opened up each other’s perspective, and that was very enriching. That was the start of our friendship. Six years later we got into a relationship, and 10 years later, we ended the relationship—and now, 20 years later we’re still working together.

How would you describe Studio Drift’s mission today?

We are exploring how to reconnect people with nature through technology. We believe that you can align people with spaces by using frequencies of sound or movement that relate to frequencies that are in our nature. For instance, the human heartbeat, or breathing, has a similar frequency to waves coming from the sea, wind going through the grass, or the endless sparks of a fire. There is a certain nature that we as humans respond to very, very strongly—and it makes us feel calm, and aligned, and part of a bigger whole. 

<i>Flylight</i> by Studio Drift

Flylight by Studio Drift

Photo by Ronald Smits

When different people visit a space, they come from different situations—different realities. Everyone is on their own time, with different things on their minds. In order to communicate, and be really present, it’s important to align with the space, with ourselves, and with other people—and that’s what we’re trying to accomplish.

<i>Drifter</i> by Studio Drift

See the full story on Dwell.com: Q&A: Studio Drift Founder Lonneke Gordijn on Nature, Art, and the Limits of Technology

Similar Posts

  • Casa Altanera

    Casa Altanera is located in Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca, México. The lot has an area of ​​2,500m2, with minimum slope. It was established as a natural and essential order of the project to follow up on the reforestation process of the area, contributing to the regenerative process that we find in our context. A single-family housing scheme was developed, contained in three separate operating modules, distributed among social areas and two pieces that interact independently, solving a program of areas for a master bedroom for two people and four secondary rooms for eight people, including your individual and shared service areas. The interaction with the exterior was proposed through the areas that develop in the palapa. The dining room, the kitchen, the living room, the deck, and the pool, are linked together in a common space, while each unfolds from its movable facade of wooden doors, resolving climate relationships independently and sustainably. The most intimate and contemplative connection happens in the pieces of concrete and wood that contain the rooms, suggesting a protected, safe place, in which, each inhabitant would individually define the type of link with its immediate exterior, from its reading of the place.

  • Lighthus

    Take a journey to the woods and trek through the forest. For every step you take, listen. A far cry from the city, the suburb- the familiar. Not there, but here. Be present. The house is a not a house. Nor are you, you. Here, it is different. The grazing of light gently paints the surfaces of the atrium. The windows are open fully; no, rather, nature, in all its sublime invites itself into the traveler’s abode, filtering the morning light – its rays carrying forth the scent of the pine forest beyond. Your coffee isn’t the same anymore. The slow drip of time are now ever evident, the light, pronounced. Your movements occupy the passage of time. Cooking around the kitchen island elevates an appreciation for nature’s bounty. As there is slow food, there is slow space, slowness, silence. The house weaves through the forest. Nature shapes the house, the house shapes light, and the light shapes us.