BEYOND THE SURFACE WITH SIMON STANISLAWSKI
"The Softy" – sponge-like monoliths designed by Simon Stanislawski.
Simon Stanislawski visits MYKITA HAUS on a Friday morning in November. Rare Berlin sunlight streams through the showroom, illuminating his Softy pieces – sculptural monoliths that look as if they were carved from stone. That is until you press them and discover their surprising spongy feel.
The designer trained at Universität der Künste (UdK) Berlin and Hochschule für Bildende Künste (HFBK) Hamburg and has spent nearly a decade working with Berlin-based collective UND.studio, moving fluidly between art, design and craft. In our conversation, it became clear that his Softy furniture carries that same balance: compelling in form but perhaps even more so through the hidden stories embedded within. Each piece begins with discarded mattresses found across Berlin – objects full of private histories and industrial dead-ends. Stanislawski transforms an overlooked material into something unexpectedly refined, while taking sustainability out of earnest or didactic territory, revealing its playful and slightly subversive side.
This interview is part of Beyond the Surface, a series highlighting progressive thinkers and makers shaping more responsible futures for our community, society and planet.
How did the original idea for the Softy take shape? Was there a moment or experiment that sparked it?
Simon Stanislawski: Well, I can’t help fiddling with things – it calms my mind. You know that thing when an old armchair starts to wear out, the top fabric is gone and a bit of foam pokes through? I always end up pulling little pieces out. One day, the contrast, the play of light of the material caught my eye and I thought, “Why not work with this?”
At the time, I was in the middle of my master’s at HFBK in Hamburg, not really knowing what to do. I only knew two things: I wanted to work big, and I wanted to work soft. And I didn’t want to use new foam because it’s petroleum-based – it felt wrong to create another product from fresh foam. But to re-use it would be an idea. In Berlin alone, people offer up to fifty mattresses a day for free. So I collected a few, brought them to my studio at the university in Hamburg, and started scaling up that same tiny “fiddling” action with my fingers – scratching, breaking, cutting. That’s how the method started.
Speaking of the method, how many steps are involved from discarded foam to a finished piece?
SS: It actually starts before the discarded foam – with the hunt. Going on eBay Kleinanzeigen, texting people, checking that it’s pure foam, no springs. Then planning my route through Berlin to pick them up.
One of my favourite parts is entering people’s bedrooms. You’ve never met them, and suddenly you’re in the most private room taking the most intimate object out of it. A mattress is everything: you sleep, sweat, make love, give birth, sometimes even die on it. It’s a very charged object.
Back at the studio, I strip everything – the textile covers are always unusable – and then I glue pieces into whichever shape I need. Usually I have something in mind or something agreed on with a client, and I often need assistance for the bigger pieces. Once the block is ready, the actual shaping can take as little as ten minutes. Then comes the painting, which I do in a special space in Berlin with good light. So the physical shaping is quick, but the whole process around it is extremely time-consuming.
I had no idea you literally collect old mattresses. That’s pretty cool. What part of the process do you find most satisfying or surprising?
SS: Many parts. I love meeting people in their homes, as I said. And I love undressing the mattresses – they come in all these wild colours: purple, green, yellow, even strange moiré patterns.
Cutting into the foam is also incredibly satisfying. Foam degrades over time; it gets a bit grey and filthy. But slice off two centimetres and underneath it’s completely fresh, almost untouched. That feels great every time.
And what I especially like: it doesn’t look like an upcycling project. Upcycling often has this little “oh, okay…” feeling. But these pieces look new, special. The technique is also very basic – just a cutter knife and my hands. There’s a balance between planned moves and accidental ones, and the material decides its own path. That mix is what makes the process so enjoyable.
You also work with metal and wood. How does foam differ?
SS: It’s completely different. With other materials you need tools, workshops, electricity. With foam I need nothing but my hands and a knife. For some pieces I literally scrape or tear the material by hand.
But before painting, it’s… well, a bit disgusting. There’s hair, smells, years of… history. I once read you can sweat up to a litre into your mattress during summer. (laughs) So yes – it’s not glamorous. But I like that.
My first sold piece actually went to a prominent family – as a Christmas present. The idea of this old mattress, repainted, sitting under their tree… I loved that contrast: something previously treated as trash suddenly becoming valuable.
Do you have to wash or clean the mattresses?
SS: No. Industrial washing machines for mattresses are huge, energy-intensive and need to be bolted to the floor. The covers go in the bin; the foam stays as it is. But after painting, everything is totally sealed – every inch is covered – so the smells and the past are trapped inside.
The designer at the MYKITA HAUS showroom; MYKITA | 032c eyewear displayed on the Softy
There’s something paradoxical in the objects: they look hard but they’re soft; they look high-end but come from very humble materials. Do you intentionally play with that perception?
SS: It’s a side effect that I really enjoy. People always think they’re hard – the spray paint suggests stone, rock, something solid. Designers like Max Lamb, who I admire, also work in this aesthetic, but his pieces are hard. Mine remain soft, which I love. The material looks like stone, but you can sit on it. That tension is important to me.
Obviously there’s a strong upcycling aspect. Was sustainability the intentional starting point?
SS: It’s more that sustainability feels unavoidable. At UdK and HFBK – and for my generation of designers – it’s embedded. I would have to actively try to make something unsustainable, which I don’t want to do. Using new foam would have felt completely wrong when there’s so much discarded material around and no real recycling system yet. IKEA and some chemical companies are working on processes to fully recycle foam, but that’s still future music. Right now, mattresses get burned or thrown away.
And honestly, my project isn’t a grand solution. It’s one-off pieces, time-consuming and not cheap. But I see it as a beginning – a small example of what could be possible, something that maybe sparks ideas in others.
Your work mixes art, design and craft. How do these elements inform each other?
SS: UdK gave me a very artistic, free foundation: you get a topic and then do whatever you want — show up or don’t, work in the studio or don’t. At the same time, they had all the craft workshops: pottery, metal, wood. I loved them, but I never learned the crafts the traditional, German way. So there’s this constant mix of love for craft and DIY improvisation.
Design adds the problem-solving part, the thinking, the history. The Softies bring it all together: the treatment of the material is pure DIY craft; the shapes and colours come from art; and the way it all fits into spaces is design. I imagine it like this: ideas start in the art world, move into fashion and design, then into industry, and ten years later they’re in everyone’s home.
I’ve read you’re interested in the political aspects of art. How does that show up in your work?
SS: (laughs) I think I once wrote that on my website as an explanation for why I sit between art and design. Proper artists – friends of mine – sometimes roll their eyes when I call myself an artist because I didn’t go through a pure art education. But I do mean it: art gives more freedom to be political. Design rarely does – unless you really push it, like the Neue Deutsches Design movement did in the ’80s. So I enjoy my excursions into the art world. It gives the work a different dimension, even if it’s subtle.
"Sustainability feels unavoidable for my generation of designers," says the designer.
When creating pieces for brands – for instance, our showroom pieces – how do you approach the design process?
SS: It’s usually a mix of hand drawings, tiny models and computer sketches. But it’s always a bit tricky because the final shape is hard to predict. With one commission, they were extremely precise about what they wanted, and it just didn’t work until I finally did what I felt was right. Then everyone was happy.
Colour-wise, I can be precise – like with MYKITA, where I painted everything specific to your brief. Shape-wise, it’s more of a back and forth: I try things, the client responds, and somewhere in that exchange the piece finds its final form. I really liked the communication with MYKITA because you gave me freedom, but also had a clear sense of what you wanted. That’s the perfect balance.
Thank you Simon for sharing your inspiring work and approach!
Selected pieces from the Softy family are currently on display at the MYKITA store in Berlin-West.