Taking Time to See : Charlotte Goffette on Design, Ecology and Sensibility
Morgane MARGERIE
Master’s student in Design, Arts & Crafts, and Industry
Jean Monnet University, Saint-Étienne, France
Charlotte Goffette is a designer with the status of artist-author. She mainly works on public commissions and for contemporary art and design festivals. She prefers to work in a specific location where she can conduct research. One example is her project Dans la paume des mains (In the Palm of Your Hands), which she carried out in Vals-les-Bains and focused on thermal water. She tries to get to know the field in which she is working and tailoring her work to the location.
Morgane MARGERIE : How do you prefer to define yourself ?
Charlotte GOFFETTE : My methodology is truly inherent to the role of a designer. I work at Le Grand Large, an association of 30 artists. I can see that my approach differs quite significantly from that of people trained in art or crafts.
I completed a baccalaureate in economics and social sciences. I didn’t know about the art and design schools in France because there are so many of them. So I started my first year in Orléans without taking any preparatory classes. Throughout that year, I was able to discover lots of different disciplines. This is known as a ‘”sandbox year” where you explore all the different practices related to the subjects offered by the school. For example, there were graphic design, object design and spatial design courses. Object and spatial design introduced me to a field I wasn’t familiar with, and I learnt as much about theoretical references as I did about practical methodologies.
In design, there are many different methodologies. I think every designer creates their own, even if some are similar. I spent three years in Orléans, earning a DNA (an advanced degree in visual arts). We take the exam in front of a jury and give a presentation showcasing all our projects. The jury evaluates our ability to carry out a project independently from start to finish. It was then that I discovered what it was like to work with companies. At the time, I was in my third year, and I found it interesting to understand the needs of certain companies. Then I spent six months on the Erasmus programme in Bratislava, studying industrial design. It was a completely different approach to what I was used to. Bratislava is more like a series of laboratories where all the years are mixed together. There’s an industrial design laboratory, a glass laboratory and so on. This enabled me to learn a lot more about the industrial side of things. For example, mass production.
After that, I completed a six-month internship at Arik Levy’s design agency in Paris. That opened my eyes to what it’s like to run your own agency. There were a lot of us there, he’s a successful designer. It also allowed me to understand everyone’s role. I also realised how precise the feedback was, down to the millimetre. This is really interesting when you receive pieces because there’s an artistic aspect to it. We would receive test pieces and had to use a magnifying glass to look for the slightest scratch. It’s interesting to think that we can actually go that far. Perhaps he’s so precise because he works in the luxury sector, I really liked that idea. I’d always wanted to be independent, so I enrolled on a Master’s programme in product design at the ESAD in Saint-Étienne. The problem was that the pandemic hit, so the programme was cut short. I lacked the self-confidence to tell myself, “now that I’ve finished my studies, I’m going to work on my own projects”. At the same time, I spent three years doing research and launching my studio. This gave me the support of the Cité du Design when applying for larger-scale projects. It also reassured the people I was working with and gave my practice a theoretical foundation, particularly with regard to situated practices and the subjects I address, such as air, water and wind. Partnering with Météo France helped me to build confidence in what my practice brings to the table and how it differs from other practices.
M. M. : This year’s theme is neo-craftsmanship. How does this theme resonate with you ?
C. G. : I use porcelain, stone and rattan to make kites. I find this process fascinating because it enables me to develop tools that aren’t commercially available. For instance, I can use 3D printing to create highly specific tools. For a project involving rattan, I used 3D printing to make pegboards. A student came up with the idea and I thought, “Actually, that’s typical design work”. It’s the kind of thing you can easily implement, especially since we use 3D printing. I also find this really interesting when it comes to stone. It’s more difficult to create stone tools, but we can use existing tools to improve them and achieve the desired shape. With porcelain, it’s easier to create new tools, for example, we can make the counterpiece in 3D. To me, the term “neo-craftsmanship” is more about tools. I do make things, of course, but I don’t always have access to machinery. To me, craftsmanship is closely linked to specific techniques for particular subjects. Despite the fact that ESAD has workshops, I have no formal training in craftsmanship.
Right now, I’m interested in the metallisation of 3D-printed parts. We’re considering training with an artist friend. There are some techniques that I think are really cool. For instance, I’m really interested in stone engraving at the moment, so I’m developing a dust extraction system for that. I’m setting everything up so that none of my projects interfere with each other. I think the slightly negative side of being a designer is wanting to be an expert in everything. But ultimately, you can never be an expert in everything. When you’re a craftsman or craftswoman in a particular field, we recognise that your skills are much higher than mine. I love learning as I go along. Soon, I’ll be doing rope-making and seamanship, as well as a residency with the Corderie Royale. These are techniques that I’m going to learn and that I’ll be able to recreate in my own way.
M. M. : Are you part of any artisan communities, associations, or groups ?
C. G. : Right now, I’m at the Le Grand Large workshop in Lyon. It’s an association subsidised by the Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region. It provides young artists and designers from art schools in the region with access to a workshop. This allows us to collaborate on projects, and we are forming a collective within the workshop so that we can continue to work together. There are five art schools in the region, but not all of them offer the same degree options. These are Annecy, Grenoble, Valence, Lyon, Clermont and Saint-Étienne. These schools have decided to pool their resources to offer professional training after graduation because many graduates do not become artists. Unfortunately, it’s a very difficult profession and securing funding is challenging unless you’re among the top 1% of earners. On top of that, we’re setting up another collective with an illustrator and a lighting designer : Alice Kote and Cécile Botto.
The idea of collectives has always existed, but not in the way we see it now. It’s much more prevalent at the moment. I believe that collectives are of great importance in our profession, as they enable us to combine our areas of expertise, strengths and knowledge. In fact, that’s how we can break out of patterns of precariousness. Although it’s still a precarious status and profession, I believe that by pooling our resources, we can become less precarious and evolve more quickly. For example, in our collective, there’s an art critic who writes about our work, so he’s practising too. The more exhibitions we hold, the more texts there are about our work, and the more work he gets. It’s a kind of mutual aid and a virtuous circle. With Cécile and Alice, however, it’s much more about the collective projects we carry out.
M. M. : Does your company have any social, economic or environmental commitments ? In your opinion, can change be brought about through business activities ?
C. G. : Ecology is obviously a recurring theme in all my projects. Recently, I was interviewed about ecology. I did some research and read a lot of books on the subject over the course of my studies. I think it’s very tricky to use the word “ecology”. Creating works for a three-month festival is clearly not ecological. However, I always think about how I can reuse the work afterwards. All my projects deal with global warming, our way of life, the crisis of sensitivity and the loss of our appetite for microorganisms and other living things. For instance, I’m currently collaborating with a spa on a project. Social security no longer reimburses treatments, even though these areas also support many other practices. Spa towns attract a lot of people. Historically, too, they’re significant. Then there’s the fact that being treated with water, rather than medication, has an ideological significance. However, it takes time, and we don’t take time anymore. I find that my work aims to encourage this kind of contemplation and reflection, and to take the time to look at things from a different angle. ”Raising awareness” is an overused term, because I believe that the most effective way to raise awareness is still to give lectures on ecology. In any case, that’s my perspective. I’m not saying it’s an eminently ecological perspective, but it does address all the issues surrounding ecology. These issues include the crisis of sensibilities, our relationship with the invisible and how to take this into account. Currently, I’m working on a project with PLAS ECO, an urban furniture company based in Caen that works with recycled plastic. The plastic is injected and recycled, and transformed into urban furniture. This means it requires much less maintenance than wooden furniture, for example. Plastic also has a much longer lifespan. I’m currently creating a range of furniture with them, and they are strongly committed to ecology. However, I find that when you get involved in eco-design, you quickly realise that it’s largely a marketing strategy. For me, the word ‘ecology’ has strong marketing connotations. I find the concept of a ‘crisis of sensibilities’ much more meaningful.
M. M. : How do you communicate, connect with customers, find partners, etc. ?
C. G. : I answer calls for applications a lot, so most of the people who contact me are those who have seen my calls. Sometimes people get in touch, in which case I check that they comply with labour laws. We don’t get paid in visibility. I also check that the conditions are right, such as the dates and funding, and that the programme matches my practice. I’m kind of caught between two worlds, I’m not really an industrial designer and I’m not an artist. There needs to be openness in these places because that’s not always the case. I find these practices extremely interesting, but not everyone shares this opinion. What is extremely exhausting, however, is responding to calls for applications and not being accepted by many of them. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve done a lot of time management training, particularly with regard to the time spent responding to calls for applications. There’s more than a 50 percent chance of not being accepted, so my goal is to be among the final 60 selected persons. That way, at least they’ll see my project, and people will say, “Oh, Charlotte Goffette, I’ve seen her twice now”. You get a little visibility at least. Many artists are against calls for applications, and I totally understand why. But for now, I don’t see how I can do it any other way. I also run quite a few workshops for children, which I really enjoy. These are open calls for applications. I run regional residencies, where you spend one or two months in a region running workshops on a particular theme. I love working with nursing homes, too. I’ve also worked with disabled people of all ages, from kindergarten to college.
