Art – Numéro Berlin https://www.numeroberlin.de Thu, 23 Jul 2026 10:39:56 +0000 en-US hourly 1 W COSTA NAVARINO: A PLACE BETWEEN MYTH AND MODERNITY https://www.numeroberlin.de/2026/07/w-costa-navarino-a-place-between-myth-and-modernity/ Thu, 23 Jul 2026 10:39:56 +0000 https://www.numeroberlin.de/?p=72560
W COSTA NAVARINO: A PLACE BETWEEN MYTH AND MODERNITY

Numéro Berlin explored the luxury resort that became one of the filming locations for Christopher Nolan’s newly released film, The Odyssey.

Following Odysseus’ legendary ten-year journey home after the Trojan War, Nolan brought the epic tale back to its Mediterranean origins, filming amid the dramatic cliffs, caves and shores of the Peloponnese. Celebrating the film’s release with screenings at its open-air cinema, while also offering specially curated excursions, artisanal workshops and activities inspired by the enduring story of Odysseus, the landscape continues to invite a different kind of voyage: one defined by design, wellness, cultural curiosity and the art of slow luxury.

Let’s be honest: it is difficult not to fall deeply in love with Greece — whether for the beauty and diversity of its landscapes, the layers of history that merge with the present in a way found almost nowhere else, its spirit of philoxenia, which goes far beyond hospitality and expresses a genuine love for strangers, or its profound joy of living and instinct for celebrating life at any moment. And, last but certainly not least, its food.

As part of an exclusive series of artworks, Greek curator and visual artist Poka-Yio raises compelling questions about the symbolic identity of hotels and their ability to serve as bridges into another space, allowing us to experience the spirit of a country in a more intimate way. He sees hotels as timeless entities: “They are certainly out of place and out of time. They are portals.” Some have the rare privilege of being built on land that carries deep, collective memories of the past.

W COSTA NAVARINO: A PLACE BETWEEN MYTH AND MODERNITY

W Costa Navarino is undoubtedly one of those portals. Opened in 2022, it is nestled in one of Greece’s best-kept secrets: the region of Messinia in the southwestern Peloponnese, a landscape shaped by more than 4,500 years of history. It forms part of an expansive luxury destination comprising premium hotels, private residences and one of the Mediterranean’s most diverse offerings for exploration, sport and wellbeing.

Driven by a philosophy of protecting and preserving Messinia while thoughtfully contributing to its development, Costa Navarino places sustainability and its relationship with the local community at the centre of its vision. Messinia is home to one of Europe’s richest regions for biodiversity — the Gialova Lagoon alone provides a habitat for 271 bird species — while also preserving an extraordinary cultural legacy, from Mycenaean palaces and vaulted tombs to Classical temples, Byzantine churches and medieval castles.

The region is further enriched by several UNESCO World Heritage Sites, including Ancient Olympia, Mystras and the Temple of Apollo Epicurius. It is also home to Ancient Messene, the Palace of Nestor and Nestor’s Cave— believed to have served as one of the filming locations for the Cyclops Polyphemus sequence in Nolan’s The Odyssey — the iconic omega-shaped Voidokilia Beach.

A VILLAGE REIMAGINED

Costa Navarino is made up of three distinct destinations, each with its own character: Navarino Dunes, Navarino Bay and Navarino Hills.

Together, they comprise four luxury hotels. At Navarino Dunes are The Romanos, a luxury Collection Resort and The Westin Resort Costa Navarino, alongside private residences, two golf courses and a Mouratoglou Tennis Centre, the NBA Basketball School and a collection of villas available through Costa Navarino’s villa rentals programme. It is also home to the 4,000-square-metre Anazoe Spa, a renowned wellness and thalassotherapy centre.

Navarino Bay is home to Mandarin Oriental, Costa Navarino and W Costa Navarino, as well as Navarino Agora -a hub for gastronomy, culture and entertaintment open to all guests and residents of Messinia. While Navarino Hills features an additional two signature 18-hole golf courses.

My destination, however, is the vibrant W Costa Navarino.

After a three-and-a-half-hour drive from Athens Airport, the changing landscape gradually reveals what makes this corner of Greece so special. Rolling hills, olive groves and the sea create a quiet sense of anticipation long before reaching the hotel. “This is the Hamptons of Greece — just without the crowds,” someone tells me on the way.

The first thing that catches my eye upon arrival is the monumental W sculpture, rising almost four metres above the entrance. I later learn that it forms part of the hotel’s permanent art collection by Greek artist Poka-Yio, whose fascination with creating works for public spaces reflects one of the resort’s central ideas: bringing together culture, place and contemporary hospitality.

The sculpture is also a tribute to the Constantakopoulos family and their deep connection to the sea. Constructed from fragments of traditional wooden fishing boats, it preserves disappearing pieces of Greece’s maritime heritage, turning them into something entirely new.

“I turned to the old-fashioned fishing boats and trawlers that are quickly disappearing from Greece’s seas. We visited boatyards and marinas, collecting wood from abandoned boats and using it to fill the metal frame of the hotel’s sign. In a way, we connected the Constantakopoulos family’s history with the sea, creating a dialogue between memory, landscape and the present,” the artist explains.

Rather than functioning as decoration, the artworks throughout the hotel quietly anchor the property in the history of its surroundings. Alongside Poka-Yio’s own works, sculptures, photography and installations by emerging artists create a subtle conversation between antiquity and contemporary Greece.

One of my favourite discoveries appears in the reception area: clay tablets inscribed with Linear B. Their markings resemble prehistoric text messages or emojis, inviting guests to imagine one of Europe’s earliest written languages through a distinctly contemporary lens. Elsewhere, fragmented ceramic vessels evoke archaeological finds freshly lifted from beneath the sea.

THE W, REIMAGINED

 

For those familiar with the W brand, W Costa Navarino offers a noticeably different experience from its sister properties around the world. Overlooking the historic Bay of Navarino, the adults-only resort feels more rooted in its surroundings, balancing contemporary design with the slower rhythm of the Peloponnese.

Set along a peaceful 450-metre stretch of sandy coastline, the property features 226 rooms, including beachfront three-bedroom villas and two-bedroom suites with private rooftop pools. Throughout the season, a changing programme of events and collaborations connects guests with the surrounding landscape, offering everything from mountain biking, hiking and road cycling to rock climbing, windsurfing, waterskiing, kayaking and stand-up paddleboarding.

Wellbeing is woven just as naturally into the experience. Alongside fitness classes and yoga, the resort offers regenerative programmes inspired by Hippocratic philosophy and contemporary medical research, encouraging a more holistic approach to longevity, recovery and mental balance.

ARCHITECTURE IN CONVERSATION: LIVING WITH THE LANDSCAPE 

Designed as an ongoing dialogue between the raw beauty of Messinia and a contemporary vision of Mediterranean living, W Costa Navarino blends naturally into its surroundings rather than competing with them. Greek architectural studioAlexandros N. Tombazis & Associates reinterpret the spirit of the Peloponnese through natural materials, organic forms and a seamless transition between interior and exterior spaces, while MKV Design brings warmth, texture and a distinctly contemporary sensibility to the interiors.

Stone, water, vegetation and natural light constantly interact, allowing the architecture to almost disappear into the landscape. From certain viewpoints around the main pool, the horizon, the sea and the hotel seem to merge into a single uninterrupted panorama.

My favourite part of the property, however, was the Fabulous Infinity Swim-Up Guest Room. With direct access to the shared pool from each private terrace, the rooms quietly blur the boundary between private retreat and communal living — another subtle expression of how W Costa Navarino encourages guests to experience the resort not in isolation, but as part of a shared landscape.

COMMUNITY IS THE HEARTBEAT

Breakfast at W Costa Navarino unfolds like a walk through a contemporary Greek village square. Inspired by the traditional platia — the heart of every Messinian village, where people meet, talk and spend time together — the space transforms the morning ritual into something far more relaxed than a conventional hotel buffet.

Instead of one large dining hall, breakfast is spread across a series of individual “houses”: a bakery filled with freshly baked bread and pastries, a coffee shop, a deli celebrating local produce, and live cooking stations where dishes are prepared to order. Surrounded by pergolas, natural materials and Mediterranean planting, Platia captures something that Greece has always understood particularly well: that food is as much about gathering as it is about eating.

Just a few steps away lies Navarino Agora, a contemporary marketplace built around the same idea. Conceived as a meeting place for both visitors and locals, it brings together independent boutiques, restaurants, street-food concepts, an open-air cinema, immersive entertainment and a richprogramme of music, dance and cultural events. It feels less like an extension of the resort than a small neighbourhood that has grown naturally around it.

The Agora is also home to several of the resort’s 46 restaurants. One of the standouts located in the W is Parelia —stemming from the Greek words Parea, Elia and Paralia, which mean Friends, Olive and Beach— where Executive Chef Nikos Billis reinterprets the flavours of Messinia through a contemporary lens. Rooted in locality and seasonality, the menu remains unmistakably Greek while allowing familiar dishes to evolve and inspire.

BEYOND SUSTAINABILITY

No story about this part of Greece would be complete without its olive trees. Kalamata has become synonymous with some of the world’s finest olives, and throughout Costa Navarino the centuries-old groves are treated not as landscape decoration but as part of the region’s cultural identity.

That philosophy extends well beyond symbolism. During construction, nearly 7,000 olive trees were carefully transplanted and protected before being replanted across the estate —the largest olive tree relocation programmes ever undertaken in Europe. Since then, more than 9,900 native trees and over 1.2 million endemic shrubs have been introduced across the destination.

The environmental initiatives continue in less visible ways, from significantly reducing single-use plastics and investing in responsible water management to sourcing electricity from renewable energy and designing buildings that work with the landscape rather than against it. Sustainability here feels less like a marketing statement than a long-term commitment to preserving the character of Messinia while supporting the local economy.

There is even an unexpected final chapter to that story. Through the Navarino Pet Community, volunteers have already helped find homes for more than 270 stray dogs and cats. Together with the Captain Vassilis & Carmen Constantakopoulos Foundation and local organisations, the initiative “Messinia Without Strays” reflects another, quieter expression of hospitality — one that extends beyond guests to the place itself.

Since 2025, Costa Navarino has also been supported by a long-term biodiversity monitoring programme. Conducted by a team of 13 researchers from Nature Conservation Consultants, the ongoing survey documents the region’s wildlife and plant life, contributing valuable data while helping protect one of Greece’s richest natural landscapes.

What makes all of this even more meaningful is understanding how Costa Navarino came to exist in the first place.

The destination was born from the vision of Captain Vassilis C. Constantakopoulos, one of Greece’s most respected shipping entrepreneurs, who imagined a place that would celebrate rather than reinvent his native Messinia. More than creating another luxury destination, his ambition was to build a model in which hospitality, local heritage and the landscape could exist in balance — allowing the region’s cultural identity to remain intact while creating new opportunities for future generations.

DESIGNED FOR PLAY

Costa Navarino has become one of Europe’s leading golf destinations, with four signature courses spread across the estate. Among them are The Dunes Course, designed by former Masters champion and Ryder Cup captain Bernhard Langer in collaboration with European Golf Design, and The Bay Course by Robert Trent Jones Jr., whose route follows rolling hills, olive groves and uninterrupted views across the Ionian Sea. Both combine world-class sporting facilities with a landscape that remains unmistakably Greek.

Equally impressive is the Mouratoglou Tennis Center at Navarino Dunes, one of Europe’s leading tennis training facilities. Founded by Patrick Mouratoglou, the 

academy combines elite coaching with a global network that includes the French Riviera, Italy, Malaysia and the United States. The Costa Navarino centre features twelve tennis courts, three padel courts and two pickleball courts, with a second Mouratoglou Tennis Center scheduled to open at Navarino Bay next spring.

The destination is also home to the NBA Basketball School, the first collaboration between the NBA and a privately operated hospitality and sports destination in Europe — another example of Costa Navarino’s ambition to position itself as more than a traditional resort.

Yet perhaps the most memorable journey begins just beyond the resort itself.

FOLLOWING ODYSSEUS

Only a short drive away lies the Palace of Nestor, one of the best-preserved Mycenaean palaces in Greece and one of the places where Homer’s Odyssey still feels remarkably present. Nearby, the fortress of Niokastro in Pylos and the Archaeological Museum of Pylos trace the many civilizations that have shaped this coastline, from the Mycenaean world to Venetian and Ottoman rule.

It is here that the story comes full circle.

Long before Christopher Nolan returned to Messinia to film The Odyssey, these landscapes had already carried the memory of one of the world’s greatest journeys. Today they continue to do so — not as a backdrop for mythology, but as a place where history, culture and contemporary Greece quietly exist side by side.

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EDITORIAL: BECOMING DANDELION BY TIM SONNTAG https://www.numeroberlin.de/2026/07/editorial-becoming-dandelion-by-tim-sonntag/ Tue, 21 Jul 2026 12:39:07 +0000 https://www.numeroberlin.de/?p=72453
Photography: Tim Sonntag represented by Julia Waldmann Styling: Alex Nyilas Hair & Make Up: Angelique Waltenberg Talent: Jesse Pit Leppen represented by Tigers Management
Photography: Tim Sonntag represented by Julia Waldmann Styling: Alex Nyilas Hair & Make Up: Angelique Waltenberg Talent: Jesse Pit Leppen represented by Tigers Management
Photography: Tim Sonntag represented by Julia Waldmann Styling: Alex Nyilas Hair & Make Up: Angelique Waltenberg Talent: Jesse Pit Leppen represented by Tigers Management
Photography: Tim Sonntag represented by Julia Waldmann Styling: Alex Nyilas Hair & Make Up: Angelique Waltenberg Talent: Jesse Pit Leppen represented by Tigers Management
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SEXY ISSUE VOL A – ALANA O’HERLIHY https://www.numeroberlin.de/2026/07/sexy-issue-vol-a-alana-oherlihy/ Tue, 07 Jul 2026 14:48:48 +0000 https://www.numeroberlin.de/?p=72132
Photographer/Director: Alana O’Herlihy DP: Amalia Irons AC: Priscilla Mars Hair: Autumn Skibinski & Ruby Howes Makeup: Brit Phatal & Olivia Wander Stylist: Mia Roylance Stylist Assistant: Alexanne Cohen Set Designer:Taylor Venegas Colorist: Mikey Pehanich Editor: Manuel Mollá Producers: Zane Olson / Lily Hyde Production Company: Sometimes Agency
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Photographer/Director: Alana O’Herlihy DP: Amalia Irons AC: Priscilla Mars Hair: Autumn Skibinski & Ruby Howes Makeup: Brit Phatal & Olivia Wander Stylist: Mia Roylance Stylist Assistant: Alexanne Cohen Set Designer:Taylor Venegas Colorist: Mikey Pehanich Editor: Manuel Mollá Producers: Zane Olson / Lily Hyde Production Company: Sometimes Agency
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TO WATCH „INVENTING QUEER CINEMA“ BY DEUTSCHE KINEMATHEK https://www.numeroberlin.de/2026/06/to-watch-inventing-queer-cinema-by-deutsche-kinemathek/ Wed, 17 Jun 2026 08:00:00 +0000 https://www.numeroberlin.de/?p=71536 „RAUS AUS DEN TOILETTEN, REIN IN DIE STRAßEN“

Deutsche Kinemathek´s new exhibition documents and celebrates the evolution of queer cinemas throughout times

For this week’s film tip, we would like to recommend a new exhibition on movies rather than one specific film, simply because it is quite remarkable in its execution.

„Inventing Queer Cinema“ is an exhibition and film programme running at the Deutsche Kinemathek in Berlin until 13 September 2026.

As the name suggests, the exhibition explores queer cinema in all its aspects – from its very beginnings and key figures to its role in today’s cinematic landscape. Importantly, the Deutsche Kinemathek does not claim completeness in presenting queer cinema and its invention. Instead, it emphasises that this history should be understood as an ongoing process that continues to evolve today. The exhibition takes place in the vast halls of a former electrical substation and includes a textile archive featuring original costume pieces such as Marlene Dietrich’s iconic top hat and cigarette case. Special tribute is paid to Manfred Salzgeber, a film distributor who spent a lifetime advocating for queer rights and bringing queer stories to cinema screens across Germany and beyond.

A timeline documents and highlights key moments in the evolution of queer cinema history: from the world’s first explicit homosexual film, „Anders als die Andern“ by Richard Oswald in 1919, to the first lesbian kiss in a Hollywood film in „Morocco“ (1930), and the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s. Films such as Westler and Zimmer 303 demonstrate cinematically how deeply the epidemic affected the gay community.

Paragraph 175, which criminalised homosexual acts, was only abolished in 1994 (!), followed 22 years later by the first Academy Award for a queer film, „Moonlight“.

The timeline concludes with studies indicating a decline in LGBTQ representation in US films due to a political backlash against diversity in 2025/26.

Three huge screens positioned side by side show excerpts from a wide range of films connected to queer history, creating an all-encompassing experience. Combined with hanging posters, information boards, quotations and portraits suspended from the ceiling, the exhibition’s curation conveys queer cinema’s quiet omnipresence. Once inside, you do not know where to look or what to read first, and slowly realise just how much there is – and has always been – just beyond the boundaries of mainstream attention.

„Inventing Queer Cinema“ successfully highlights the hopes, struggles and achievements of actors, film distributors and directors such as Chussein Erkenow, who personally smuggled his film „100 Tage, Genosse Soldat“ by train from Moscow to Germany after it had been strictly banned in Russia.

The exhibition impressively showcases the resilience of queer figures, while also revealing the beauty that can emerge from pain and hardship, leading to such special movies.

The Deutsche Kinemathek also has a studio cinema at its disposal, screening a variety of queer films daily as part of the exhibition.

The weekly corresponding programme can be found here.

 

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TO WATCH “IN THE REALM OF THE SENSES“ BY NAGISA OSHIMA https://www.numeroberlin.de/2026/06/to-watch-im-reich-der-sinne-by-nagisa-oshima/ Wed, 10 Jun 2026 08:00:00 +0000 https://www.numeroberlin.de/?p=71549 A MOVIE SO RADICAL IT GOT BANNED AT ITS FIRST SCREENING: IM REICH DER SINNE (IN THE REALM OF THE SENSES)

Tokyo, 1936: Sada Abe, a former prostitute, suffocates her lover during sex and, in order to finally possess him and his sexuality entirely, cuts off his genitals. At her arrest a couple of days later, his penis was still found in her kimono. It was a crime that shook the whole country.

Shocking to most, the case became the inspiration for the defining work of Nagisa Oshima. The director is known as one of the most infamous figures of the Japanese New Wave. He wrote and directed „Im Reich der Sinne“ (In the Realm of the Senses), a film that tells the brutally fascinating story of this couple.

Sada Abe begins a new job as a housemaid for Kichizō Ishida, with whom she quickly starts an affair. At first, she still shares him with his wife, but Sada soon claims sole ownership over Kichizō and his body. Plot-wise, this is mostly it: over the span of 105 minutes, the viewer is confronted with countless (unsimulated!) sex scenes, which become almost metaphorical through their excessive repetition.

What changes is the dynamic. Sada’s complete dedication to her employer initially feels almost upsetting from a feminist perspective, as her portrayal quickly shifts into that of an insatiably aroused nymphomaniac. Kichizō seems amused by it at first. But he soon becomes completely captivated by her as she demands his promise to sleep exclusively with her, and the two begin testing sexual boundaries by choking each other during the act. It is here that the dynamic shifts entirely, and he becomes nothing more than a willing surrender to her desires.

Isolated and unconcerned with the rest of the world, the two spiral deeper and deeper into a space of obsession, ownership, freedom and pain in such a radical manner that it eventually becomes almost claustrophobic to watch.

The traditional Japanese clothing of the period, paired with Minoru Miki’s beautifully composed score, creates a captivating cultural contrast to the horrors unfolding on screen.

„Im Reich der Sinne“ had to be cut and edited further in France, as no Japanese film laboratory dared to work with material this explicit. At its first screening at the Berlinale in 1976, the film was immediately confiscated. After careful investigation, it was ultimately not deemed pornography and was screened again in 1977.

Often misunderstood, a restored version of the film is now being shown in German cinemas to mark its 50th anniversary.

Whether it is a good film or not, what remains revolutionary, then and now, is Oshima’s insistence on portraying desire as a radical act in itself. With a movie that probably contains more sex scenes than almost any other, he paradoxically manages to depict sex in a non-sexual way, instead using it to explore the concepts of desire and the point at which love meets morbid obsession.

„Im Reich der Sinne“ will be screened in German cinemas from 11 June.

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IN CONVERSATION WITH ACHIM REICHERT https://www.numeroberlin.de/2026/06/in-conversation-with-achim-reichert/ Tue, 09 Jun 2026 15:31:52 +0000 https://www.numeroberlin.de/?p=71634 “There’s No Golden Rule for When Something Is a Letter”

A letter isn’t a fixed form but an agreement, something we settled on at some point. Take that seriously and type design becomes the freest of all disciplines: a kind of drawing that comes, on one hand, from pure feeling and, on the other, always aims at communication. Achim Reichert has spent more than two decades in exactly that in-between space, from Offenbach to his own Paris studio to a professorship in Saint-Denis. His typefaces don’t come from catalogues or models but from a kind of compulsion, “the world is a certain way, and for that I need this particular vibration”, and almost always out of dialogue: with artists, with projects, with the requirements that are meant to surprise him. For the Spring / Summer issue of Numéro Berlin, he designed the cover typefaces of every cover, something new and refreshing.

Achim Reichert: I’m curious about what someone does with the typefaces. The wonderful thing about type design is that you’re essentially making a drawing, you’re allowed to draw. And I say “allowed” deliberately, because afterwards it also serves a purpose. For me it was always like this: I enjoy drawing, but I didn’t want to bother anyone with the idea that this is some great drawing, there are a thousand great draughtsmen. So making type was a lovely thing, because I could draw and it had a purpose at the same time, something for communication. First for my own work, but when you hand it to someone else, they can keep working with that drawing language. And what comes out of it I never expected. When I see what someone does with it, I might think: oh God, I’d never have done it that way. But, hello, that’s exactly the point.

Antonia Schmidt: I do think it’s changing, that people are less able to let go. Making a magazine is a collaborative product; a lot of different people work on it. And there’s an ever-stronger tendency for everyone to want control over every area. I have the feeling people in this scene have become really bad at handing things over and saying: this is what I bring, and now I’m curious what others make of it.

AR: Well, that’s also something people are shown by example. And it surely comes from the digital side too, that you have permanent access. On a shoot the client can look over your shoulder constantly; the moment it’s in the camera, they have access. Or via PDFs. That kind of permanent control is possible today. The nice part would actually be the time in between, between the making and the print, the maturation, that free time. It gets cut away. And that’s precisely where it happens, where something comes into being.

The question of the different disciplines is interesting too. On one hand everyone wants to break out of their discipline. On the other it shows a certain disrespect towards the actual craft. Graphic design is always the first to shout: okay, do whatever you want with me, you’re the client, you’re paying. It’s vulnerable from the start. With magazines there’s the added factor that they get their money from clients. We once made a magazine because we found the content interesting, because we wanted to know how people work creatively. But when it came to monetising it, it ran through buy-ins, a brand buying its way into the thing. And many magazines say of their own accord: we’re here to carry your vision. So it’s partly self-inflicted, because you’re looking for a business model. But those are just my observations; I’m no expert.

AS: You studied in Offenbach and then moved to Paris early on. Here you founded a studio?

AR: Exactly; together with my partner. We were essentially doing graphic design for the art world.

AS: And how has that changed, from back then to now, the scene here in Paris?

AR: I would say, art wasn’t anything special here back then; there was no strong art scene. There were people doing things, of course, who have since become more successful. The magazines that shaped that period were Purple and Self Service, which helped a lot. It was definitely a time when you didn’t yet know exactly what was happening. Some people were already doing great things in the late nineties. I didn’t pick up on a lot of it because I was limited by the language, too. So you saw a lot of it wide-eyed and had no idea how established it already was, or wasn’t.

Today it’s much more professional, of course. Every gallery knows the procedures. It’s become a machine, and I don’t mean that negatively, it’s become a functioning thing. As for the underground: in Frankfurt or Offenbach there was always an environment where you made your own exhibition spaces, put your own things out. In Paris I always found that a bit lacking, that little gets made here on one’s own initiative, although of course things like Self Service or Purple also came out of that kind of underground.

AS: Yes, totally.

AR: But what I have to say is: the magazines that came later were already squinting pretty quickly at how they could be useful to the client. They were far more service providers. They’d say: hello, we’re the young line and we’ll bring you to the youth. But that got stronger. That, though, really is just my personal perception.

On the other hand, there’s a huge amount going on right now. Among the generation of thirty- to forty-year-olds, and the younger ones, the twenty-year-olds, there are constant new magazine launches, people doing things, simply enthusiastic about the craft. Whether that yields a genuinely new kind of photography, I can’t say. Twenty years ago it was a bit more everyday, a bit more romanticising daily life, there were always styles, too. So I can’t say all that much about the change; maybe I’m not the right chronicler for it.

I find it fascinating how it has developed here. Because people don’t stay in their posts forever, new people are constantly being appointed. In the fashion houses too, new designers keep coming in, often from their own circle of friends. Something is always developing. I have the impression that there are possibilities to do something.

AS: I find the connection between typography and fashion interesting, to come to the theme a bit. It’s something where I long thought more could happen, and where for a long time we saw barely any creativity, and on the fashion houses’ side sometimes no awareness at all.

AR: If you’d complain to a fashion designer fifteen years ago that Helvetica is always the one being used, they wouldn’t have known what Helvetica is. Things like that happened, with people who are genuinely intelligent, but for whom typography simply wasn’t important. And that’s fine; I don’t know cutting techniques either. But that there hadn’t yet been much collaboration, that the limits weren’t being tested, what can you do with type, what with communication? I found that a shame. I always saw more potential there. That’s also why we made a magazine back then, because we wanted to connect fashion, type and creation.

So I think it’s good that the fashion world is now more willing to experiment with type. And that there are now typefaces in play that may have originated twenty years ago, out of a very simple will to bring a particular form into the world. Because that’s really what it is: you create a formal language and you want it to live. That’s the great thing about it: if you make a drawing on paper, you have to hang it in a gallery, or these days you do it on Insta. But a typeface, you make it as a file, hand it to someone, and then it lives, then it gets printed.

And with all these branding things in particular: for a while everything went sans serif, now people are starting to bring in more traditional typefaces again. There’s this back-and-forth about what branding is, what identity is, how neutral it has to be. 

What even is neutral? These questions aren’t conclusively answered; there are always new answers to them.
AS: How do your typefaces come about? Does it come out of the hand, out of feeling?

AR: Out of feeling, yes, whatever form interests me at the moment. It can also be a form that’s simply rectangular. Then I ask myself: what can I do with this? And then it collides with the requirements a typeface has. The B is composed differently from an A, but in the same formal language. And then I notice: my idea of the form doesn’t fit the T at all. So I work on it and let myself be surprised by the requirements.

That’s one side. Alongside that there are things where I think: I’m interested in this technique: If I write very small, for instance, what’s it like when I make it big? What comes out of that? Those are experimental series, nothing extraordinary: you set yourself a constraint and see what happens. What tends not to happen with me: that I see an old book or an old type catalogue and think, oh, I’ll make the new version of that. Others can do that.

AS: How does drawing letters differ from other drawing?

AR: I don’t think it differs much. Four or five years ago when I left the studio i had as a duo I was at the point of asking myself: what do I actually want? I can’t just keep doing exactly the same thing I’d pursued for twenty years. I was sitting at my desk, luckily had a sheet of paper and a pencil, and I just started drawing. And I realised: this is exactly what I want. The only question was: how can this work so that I make money from it? That’s basically been my fundamental task for five or six years.

And at some point it started to feel like back when I was drawing letters for typefaces. I’m not thinking about letters at all, but maybe they’re in there anyway. There’s this back-and-forth: is it a drawing, is it a letter? A letter is something we’ve agreed on, something we recognise. A form isn’t a letter because it has a particular shape, but because at some point we agreed that that’s the shape for that letter. I have to keep reminding myself of that: there’s no golden rule for when something is a letter and when it isn’t. No good Lord decided it. That also gives me a freedom, really, you can use anything as a letter. Because I now have this continuous drawing practice, the process has become even clearer. I can look at it even more neutrally.

AS: Can we look at a few of them?

AR: This is not my first, but it’s the typeface I was really excited over. It came about when I started making type. That was the techno era, you took existing typefaces, altered them, broke them, attacked them. But I constantly had the feeling I was holding old things in my hands, tinkering with stuff from the fifties. And then I thought: I have to make this myself. Out of myself, from zero, from scratch.

At the same time there was the pronouncement from the typography professor in Offenbach: I can’t teach you this, there’s no course for it, so it can’t be done. But there were people in my circle who did it anyway and said: just do it. And then I sat in the computer room one night and simply drew all 255 characters with the mouse. Suddenly it was there. For me that was a breakthrough, for others it’s nothing special, but for the first time I could say: hey, this is a typeface, it’s digital now, and I can work with it.

AS: You can work with it.

AR: Exactly. Then I thought: I’ll clean it up a bit, because the basis is great, it looks harmonious, not just scrawly or handmade. By the way, those filled areas in the second style appear automatically, when you set point after point, the program always generates a surface. Two points make a line, a third makes a triangle.

That was the foundation for everything. From it I made a script style, a linear serif style. A very simple working-through on the basis of this thing, also to break open how type used to be cut. We had new media, after all; you could approach it more casually and see what happened. There were then things inspired by logos, where you work with curves, or the variant with the extremely broad band nib. The whole thing really just shows a bit of the process, and the thought that it doesn’t have to be a certain way.

Then there was the hymn-book typeface, drawn with a very fine nib, as an intermediate step towards Helvetica. And I realised: this is great, because it’s neither just a children’s typeface nor pretentious. What bothered me for a long time, you see, is this vertical order: there’s a sender and a receiver, and the receiver has to be convinced by the beauty that the sender is better than they are. That gradient. There’s nothing wrong with that, you’re allowed to dream upwards. But you can also try to communicate horizontally, at eye level, and still with quality. That you don’t take the thing so seriously. That’s why it suited me well to use these typefaces for projects.

AS: Over how long did you keep developing these typefaces?

AR: This series here is roughly the first four years. At some point that was enough. Maybe for some project you had to adjust something, add a few letters, change a weight. It’s called Try, for the attempt. That was the attempt.

After that it was more individual things, often solved through projects. For a musician (Cornelius Cardew), for instance, a poster series, he did a lot of community work, hence a very illustrative type. Or a painter (Nicolas Chardon) who works only with squares and surfaces, he got the complete opposite, a really scratchy typeface, not like Suprematism, not like Malevich. So there were typefaces that wanted something, and typefaces that came about in response to something.

A friend of mine, Wolfgang Breuer, noticed there’s no program that lets you say digitally: here’s a circle, here’s a line, and I want to change the size of this circle. There’s no function for that. So he had a program written and gave it to me, and out of that I made a typeface. He had this geometric, digital idea, and the question was: what do you do with it, how can you develop it further? Or here, it must have been right at the beginning here in Paris, through the graffiti and the Arabic script that was very present here at the time, a different kind of wrist movement came into it.

Then there was a project for documenta. The artistic directors didn’t want to make a documenta where great art is shown and everything else is just okay; they wanted to question every area: what is a magazine, what is a wayfinding system, what is a poster? They posed that question first, and there was an independent answer for each discipline. That’s also nice with regard to our theme from the beginning: that you give each discipline its space rather than subordinating it.

AS: Exactly, no subordination. And yet harder to control afterwards.

AR: Sure, harder to control, but then often great things come out of it. I think the viewer always senses whether something was made out of a kind of self-importance or because you think you have to do it that way. With that wayfinding system the idea was: we want people to be accompanied, not led by the hand from above. There are only suggestions, there’s the documenta halle, there’s the spot. For that I developed a typeface that runs at chest height, like a graffiti thing, just written down like that. That’s the kind of thing that comes out.

There are also typefaces that arose purely from a formal idea, that I wanted to combine thick surfaces with very thin ones, simply to see what comes out. A thought like plant stems, purely from feeling. You get typefaces that are almost uncontrollable, that go beyond themselves, but also ones that work for body text and are still interesting at large sizes, in display, because they have nice details.

AS: I’ve seen that typeface too.

AR: That was about the question of how many points you need. For a book about a French philosopher I once wanted to make a different roman style. Or here, those are things where you constrain yourself geometrically in order to generate a feeling.

Another was a commission from the artist Tania Bruguera. She wanted a typeface that’s legible everywhere in the world, so, 40,000 characters. I didn’t know it either, but I asked myself: what makes a typeface illegible to other people, what makes it foreign? And I thought: a typeface becomes foreign to me when it contains components of another culture, strokes and forms we never use. I took that foreignness and said: I’ll make a typeface that has no such form at all. That’s what came out.

AS: So these typefaces actually always come about in dialogue, don’t they?

AR: Absolutely. For me everything is constantly a dialogue anyway. And it’s a stroke of luck that there are people, like Tania, who say: I don’t need an image or a newspaper, I need a typeface for my project. Because I got stuck in the art world, working a lot with artists, I was able to do quite a bit.

But a lot also came from me. I once ran a typography workshop with illiterate people, for instance, because I wanted to know what typography actually is. Quite naively thought: I’ll just ask illiterate people, since they can’t read. And I learned that they tick in a completely different way. Out of that I made a typeface that shows a bit of it, the way someone I got to know writes very simply. I was later able to use it again for a catalogue at the Museum of Modern Art, for an architect. It fit. It’s nice when you can keep developing something like that.

AS: You teach yourself these days, too?

AR: There were always workshops. But now, for the first time, I have a longer professorship, at the Université Paris VIII in Saint-Denis Vincennes. She was founded around 1968, those thinkers like Deleuze or Foucault worked there. De Gaulle wanted to push the ’68 movement out of Paris and set them up out there in the forest. Also to give them space. You’re welcome to check that, but that’s my understanding. It’s not a Sorbonne, a different mindset, much more horizontal. But also not an art school, it’s something else, a bit bigger, a bit tougher too.

I’m co-responsible for creation there. I see my task as getting people to make something. I don’t teach type design or graphic design from A to Z; instead I develop assignments and see what happens, in the hope that as much as possible comes out of it.

AS: Lovely. Thank you so much.

More of Achim Reichert´s work can be found here and on his personal website.

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IN CONVERSATION WITH TADASHI KAWAMATA x RUINART https://www.numeroberlin.de/2026/06/interview-tadashi-kawamata-x-ruinart/ Mon, 08 Jun 2026 09:55:24 +0000 https://www.numeroberlin.de/?p=71578 TADASHI KAWAMATA AND HIS ONGOING CONVERSATION WITH NATURE

Champagne house Ruinart invites annually changing artists to reinterpret the maison, all under the motto “Conversations with Nature.”

And who could be more suitable for that than Tadashi Kawamata? The contemporary artist and sculptor is known for his in-situ installations using wood as his signature material. Born in 1953, he has developed an international practice that explores how temporary structures can reshape the perception of space and environment. Through a skillful play with scale and form, the Japanese artist reveals subtle interactions and the vitality of nature, a focus he has maintained since 1979.

His installations made of wooden frames and beams occupy empty spaces, corners, and building facades.

The collaboration between Tadashi Kawamata and Maison Ruinart culminates in three of his renowned in-situ installations in the Champagne region – Tree Hut, Nest, and Observatory– concluding to form a cohesive whole. Visitors are invited to attentively observe the vibrations of nature, essential to the harmony of champagne, from weather and climate to biodiversity.

Leonie Kampen: You are this years artist to continue the series „Conversations with nature“ at the Maison Ruinart in Berlin;  How do you converse with nature? 

Tadashi Kawamata: Nature, for me, is a continuous state of flux, a process of growth, decay, and renewal. It is not something fixed, but an ever-evolving entity that profoundly influences our existence. I converse with nature through my installations by highlighting subtle shifts in light, the movement of wind, and the presence of other living creatures. It’s about recognizing the interconnectedness of all things and our place within that delicate balance. My interventions are not intended to dominate or disrupt a space, but rather to engage in a dialogue with it, offering a new perspective and subtly shifting how one perceives their surroundings. By creating structures that blend with the environment, or that are built from natural and often reused materials, I emphasize that nature persists and reclaims spaces, even in man-made settings.

LK: What role does it play for your art?

TK: Nature plays a central and fundamental role in my art. My work, with its focus on ephemeral structures and natural materials, inherently speaks to the impermanence that pervades both the natural world and human experience. My installations are designed to evolve and transform with time and the elements, reflecting the vulnerability of ecosystems and reminding us that nothing is fixed in nature. This continuous transformation, the subtle integration with the environment, and the dialogue it creates between human activity and nature are all paramount to my artistic philosophy. I aim to re-connect visitors to nature, inviting them to observe, reflect, and recognize the interconnectedness of all things, without imposing a permanent, unyielding presence.

LK: How did you experience your work with Maison Ruinart? 

TK: My experience working with Maison Ruinart was profound. The collaboration presented a unique opportunity to engage directly with a very specific, cultivated natural environment – the Champagne region. Ruinart’s deep dependence on the terroir, the vines, and the climate, and their commitment to sustainability, resonated deeply with my artistic approach. 

My first encounter with the Ruinart vineyards was particularly evocative; it was a very foggy and quiet day, with only the sounds of birds passing, and I felt a very natural connection, smelling the air and feeling the wind. This impression of the field of vines, which eventually becomes champagne, was profound. It underscored for me the idea that champagne is synonymous with lightness, patience, and precision – a long, invisible process that resonates deeply with the ephemeral nature I explore in my own work. 

My installations there, like the “Tree Hut,” “Nest,” and “Observatory,” were designed to explore how a centuries-old institution must adapt and innovate in the face of ecological shifts, highlighting the intricate dialogue between human activity and natural cycles.

LK: You work mostly with wood, or wooden products  What do you like about wood?

TK: I am drawn to wood because it is a living material. It retains the memory of its different uses – nails, blows, and grooves. Each plank tells a unique story. Wood is like skin: it breathes, changes color, and transforms. Over time, it will age and transform, becoming grey and cracking, and moss may start to grow. This process of aging is an integral phase in the life of the artwork. This continuous transformation, this inherent quality of life, and its connection to natural processes of growth and decay, are what I deeply appreciate about working with wood.

LK: What makes it hard to work with it? What makes it easy? 

TK: Working with wood allows for a certain simplicity and artisanal dimension. It is a material that anyone can cut or assemble, which makes it accessible for creating my structures. The ease comes from its natural adaptability and its inherent narrative; it carries its own history and transforms organically, which aligns with my artistic philosophy of impermanence. The challenge, if one can call it that, is less about the material itself and more about ensuring that the ephemeral nature of my installations is understood. I don’t seek to achieve static perfection, but rather to create works that will age, evolve, and ultimately transform with time and the elements. This means accepting and embracing its natural processes, rather than forcing it into a fixed state.

LK: Are there any other materials or elements that intrigue you? 

TK: Beyond wood, I am intrigued by materials and elements that speak to similar themes of temporality, transformation, and a connection to the environment. I often use simple, reused materials in my work, as they inherently carry a history and reflect cycles of usage and decay. The broader elements of a landscape – light, wind, sounds, textures – and how they interact with my structures are also crucial. I am constantly observing how nature persists and reclaims spaces, even in man-made settings, and how these elements can collectively form a powerful statement about our relationship with the environment.

LK: In previous interview you mentioned moving away from the States because New Yorkers were always pushing for new things after new things – Is it different now that you moved to Paris?

TK: When I consider the pace and expectations, particularly in artistic contexts, I find that Paris, while a vibrant cultural center, offers a different dynamic than what I experienced in New York. My installations are not about perpetual novelty but rather about creating a dialogue with existing spaces and natural processes. In Paris, as in other European cities, there is often a deep appreciation for the historical context and the subtle interactions of art within its surroundings. 

This allows for a focus on the transformative journey of the artwork and the contemplation it evokes, rather than a constant demand for the next “new thing.” My work emphasizes the ephemeral, the ongoing conversation with a place, and this resonates well within a European context where history and continuity are often valued alongside innovation.

LK: Why did you choose to leave your home Tokyo in the first place? 

TK: My artistic journey has always involved a process of discovery and self-expression that extends beyond any single geographical location. Leaving Tokyo was part of a larger exploration to engage with diverse environments and architectural philosophies, seeking new contexts where my artistic vision could evolve. While there is a Japanese aesthetic of harmony with nature that my work often aligns with, my aim is to bridge perceived divides between architectural traditions and highlight the porosity between art and landscape, wherever I am. 

Moving allowed me to engage with various urban and natural settings, fostering new dialogues and expanding the reach of my artistic conversation about nature, time, and human interaction.

LK: Your project archive dates back to 1979 – Which work of yours are you proudest of? 

TK: It is difficult to point to a single work as the “proudest.” My artistic philosophy is fundamentally rooted in the ephemeral nature of installations. My works are in-situ installations designed to exist for a specific period, with their disappearance or transformation being an integral part of their creation. 

Therefore, my emotional connection is not to a static object, but to the ongoing process itself. Each project, in its dialogue with the specific site and context, is a part of a larger, continuous evolution of my exploration into the vulnerability of ecosystems and our relationship with time. What I value most is the ability of these works to provoke thought, to shift perspective, and to create a connection with the environment.

LK: Is it getting hard to think of „new things“? 

TK: No, it is not getting hard to think of “new things” because my artistic process is not primarily about seeking novelty for its own sake. I like to work, I always need to think of another project, another idea. I also draw sketches, a lot of sketches and I get bored if I don’t work on new installations. 

When inspiration feels distant, I often return to the fundamental act of drawing. For me, drawing is like breathing; I do it every day, often without any specific objective. Some drawings serve as studies, others are simply traces of a moment, and sometimes, they evolve into artworks themselves. More than anything, these drawings are traces of my thoughts, a way to connect with my inner landscape and allow new ideas to emerge naturally.

LK: What´s your biggest achievement despite art? 

TK: Beyond the art itself, my greatest achievement, I believe, lies in the connections and collaborations that art has opened up for me. Art has allowed me to connect with diverse individuals, explore places, cities, and countries I wouldn’t otherwise encounter. It has enabled me to engage in meaningful dialogues about our environment and societal values, fostering a deeper understanding and respect for the Earth. This ability to facilitate connection, to invite contemplation, and to subtly shift perceptions through interaction with my installations, particularly regarding our relationship with nature, is perhaps my most significant achievement beyond the physical artworks themselves.

LK: What are you currently excited for?

TK: I am always excited by the potential for new dialogues between human activity and nature, and the continuous opportunity to engage with different landscapes and communities. Right now, I am very excited by the installations of my artworks in Reims for Ruinart, it is quite something to see my work on this incredible environment. And of course, I’m excited when it comes to a glass of Ruinart Blanc de Blancs champagne!

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