Everybody Come
Yinka Ilori in his Acton studio (image: Kane Hulse).
Walking into Yinka Ilori’s new studio in Acton, west London, is like entering a portal of dreams. There are the sunshine-yellow and sky-blue walls adorned with the artist and designer’s archive of upcycled chairs; the flood of bubblegum pink; the submarine portholes in coloured glass on his office door. All so carefully curated and magically combined. In essence, this is joy on demand.
The journey through Ilori’s studio provides insight into the way he formulates ideas around spaces: function, emotive potential and, most importantly, the rhythm in which bodies may move in them. As we thumb through a reference book by the artist Bridget Riley, Ilori pauses on a page showing her piece Places for Change (2009). I ask him how the work makes him feel. In the hesitation that follows – a moment of clear contemplation – Ilori starts to assemble the walls of an installation in his mind, considering the channels of light and creating a wholly new work imaginatively. What comes next is almost a collaborative thought-mapping experiment. We discuss how to pull Riley’s work out of the page, how to make it tangible, solid, and yet still painterly. It is clear that Ilori is rooted in this communal way of working. This is present in the physical architecture of the spaces he designs, the messaging in his murals, and especially in his fascination with chairs, which he views as vehicles for storytelling and sites of memory. The design of his studio also affirms this.
The new space, which opened in spring 2022, was created as a collaboration between Ilori’s studio and the architect Sam Jacob. In explaining his decision to work with Jacob, Ilori opens his phone to an image of a Christmas tree, The Electric Nemeton, which Jacob’s studio created for Granary Square in 2020. Jacob’s design presented a futuristic forest, standing on 4m steel trunks. By night, the forest glittered in hues of green, but during the day visitors could peer through its scaffold-netting skin to see the timber joints within. The elevation of this installation was designed such that it would be safe to use at the height of the pandemic. This was also when Ilori and Jacob began working together: mid-pandemic, distanced, navigating Zoom like the rest of us.
To create the studio, Ilori and Jacob held weekly hour-long digital sessions in which they drew together on screen, devising ways to combine their enthusiasm for geometric shapes, bold colours and gathering spaces that open up possibilities for the imagination. All of the above are present in the new studio, which can be understood as the physical continuation of this spirit of collaboration and exchange.
“It will be a space to exhibit the work of the young people in Acton, because there really aren’t many art spaces around here.”
The studio, too, encourages this way of working. It is loosely divided. Weighty, lime-green felt curtains mark the entrance to a space that, in future, will serve as a gallery, contrasting with the soft, rainbow organza drapes that subtly separate Ilori’s office from the area where his team work. The effect is far from the cold lines, glass walls and repetitious atmosphere of a traditional architecture or design studio. This space abstracts the idea of a boundary line and makes it elastic: the clear demarcations and parameters that denote hierarchies in many studios are, here, made fluid, speaking to the way in which Ilori works. Through this abstraction, Ilori and Jacob have aimed to facilitate collective discourse. This is the crux of collaboration – it is capacity building insofar as it simultaneously augments and strengthens both the individual and the collective. Spaces can do this too. As Ilori and his team tell me, “These curtains are rarely closed.”
These ideas also reach beyond the studio. What may be most exciting about the space is its multifunctional potential – something Ilori tells me has been at the top of his mind. “It will be a space to exhibit the work of young people in Acton,” he says, “because there really aren’t many art spaces around here.” The heart in this intention is the cornerstone of his work. There is no art for art’s sake: it is art for everybody and a space for everybody, especially “for those who haven’t engaged with the arts or been invited in”.
Georgina Johnson When we were walking through the space you said that Sam is a friend, but what drew you to his work and the idea of pulling him into this? Because it’s a personal space – it’s where you are 80 per cent of the time.
Yinka Ilori I’m not an architect – Sam is. I studied furniture and product design, and I’m an artist, but I work within spatial design, architecture, set design – I’m quite greedy. I like to do a bit of everything and Sam works in a similar way. But across his work there is this sense of humour, and I like how he thinks outside of the box and creates the unexpected, which is what we try and do here in the studio. We try and push your idea of what something should be.
Georgina I think it’s beyond trying. It’s very successfully exhibited in your works.
Yinka Thank you. But with Sam it’s just the way he uses colour, shape and the way he sees space. I wanted to learn from him and I thought he could learn from me. It was trying to bring us together to collaborate.
Georgina Your collaboration took place over Zoom. How did that function?
Yinka We sent him a brief about what the space needed to do and what it needed to be. The way that we work now is very different from the way we worked two years ago. People want a bit more from their office environment having worked from home. The office is a space where you spend a lot of time, so it needs to make you feel good. It needs to be joyful and it needs to function well. I mean, I take huge pride in making sure my team are happy, and that everyone feels free – so everyone had input on this space. I did the colours on my own, but I always try and get my team’s opinion on things and they all had the chance to talk to Sam. Then Sam and I just spent a lot of time on Zoom, going back and forth with the layouts. On Zoom there’s a pen menu you can click on and then you can just sketch together. Those sketches were really crude and rough, but for us it was great.
Georgina They’re works in progress.
Yinka Works in progress, right. It shows that, even with limitations and obstacles, you can still create and you can still be collaborative. That was one of the things I find quite inspiring, because we did all of this during lockdown. It was interesting to work with Sam and see his thought process. His design process is very different from mine in terms of how he thinks and how he sketches.
Georgina I love what you said about getting the opinion of your staff. Do you think that became more important being in lockdown and seeing how people wanted things to change? Or do you think that’s always been a part of your culture and ethos?
Yinka I try and listen, be open to new ideas, and make the work-life balance workable for the team. My thing is that you start at 10am and you leave at 6pm. Don’t work overtime, because spending another hour or two working on something is not going to change it. It can wait until tomorrow. Go home on time, sleep well, then you’ll be back in here again tomorrow with the same energy.
Georgina And you enjoy it.
Yinka If you leave here an hour late, it’s going to affect you. You’re knackered.
Georgina It has a knock-on effect.
Yinka Right – on your travel and personal life, that kind of thing. We had chats about this space [as a result of that]. Actually, we originally wanted to have the team’s space on a platform so they could see the window a bit more.
Georgina Like a mezzanine?
Yinka Exactly, but it was £30,000 for that platform, so we weren’t going to spend that – it can go on something else instead. But it was nice to get my team’s opinion on the decisions I was making. Sometimes designers are afraid of criticism or scared to ask advice, but I try and work collaboratively on most projects. When I started out, I was used to working on my own, but it’s a gradual thing – you let people in to support you and then they bring in their own ideas. That’s how we worked with Es Devlin on the Brits [Ilori and the artist Devlin co-designed the 2021 Brit Awards trophy and stage design, ed.]. It was the same kind of process where Es was sketching, I was sketching, and we’d come together to find a middle ground. That’s pretty much how it was with Sam. There’s no ego; you can’t go into a collaboration with ego.
“Sometimes designers are afraid of criticism or scared to ask advice, but I try and work collaboratively on most projects.””
Georgina That’s an interesting perspective because traditionally architects and designers have been known to have huge egos.
Yinka Totally.
Georgina But what you’re saying is kind of the opposite of that. What brought you to that? And how do you feel that can then be helped filter out across the wider design scene?
Yinka I always try and go into collaborations with a willingness to learn. I think it’s about trying to reassure people that their ideas are heard and listened to. If you’re open and able to listen to other people, it produces incredible projects. There aren’t a lot of artist/architect collaborations, but I think there should be more. There has been an influx of fashion designers working with artists, though. There’s a menswear label called Labrum, led by Foday Dumbuya, and I designed a set for their show. I would love to do more collaborations because it lets me listen and open my eyes. But it’s down to the individual and maybe trying to break down their ego or trying to break down their insecurities or making sure they don’t feel that their idea isn’t as important as mine, or vice versa.
Georgina It’s creating a lateral or horizontal hierarchy. Even how you mentioned the design of this space and the mezzanine for your staff – that would have created a divide between you and them.
Yinka Totally.
Georgina There’s a curtain breaking up the space instead, but you all said that it’s very rarely closed.
Yinka Very rarely.
Georgina What you’re speaking about is reframing values around work and working together. So there are two different spaces, but you’re all having a conversation that’s very fluid.
Yinka And that’s what I love about it. It’s all open here. If you go to most art or architecture studios, there are always these little pockets where the CEO is. But where I was raised, it’s different. I’m Nigerian.
Georgina An open home.
Yinka An open home! The whole village is coming into your house. That’s how I was raised: I like to come together and have a chat. I think it’s because I grew up in a very big community in North London, which is why the themes that run through my work are communities and people and storytelling. In order to have a healthy project that is rich in stories, you need to talk to each other. You need to hear other people’s stories and hear how you do things culturally in France or Vietnam. Having that kind of conversation between the team is helpful because I get to learn about their ideas. Whenever I sketch I have an idea of what I want to do, but it’s like, “What do you think? Do you think that’s the right way to do it?”
Georgina Is that how you work with clients too?
Yinka Sometimes clients come into a project with what they want to do. You have to hold their hand and say, “This is what I think we should do.” I listen to what they think they want to do, but I always go away with my team and say, “We want to do this,” and then they put forward some ideas about what they think or how we can develop it. I will always have an initial idea, but the team will have ideas on materials; or how the display should work; or what the user experience is; or whether it could travel; or accessibility for wheelchair users. Those kinds of things we discuss collaboratively. So, I sort of birth it and then they grow it with me.
Georgina I’ve read you talking about how objects impart meaning and have their own stories.
Yinka When I came into design, people were confused about what I was doing. What are Dutch wax prints? What are parables? Because all of these chairs have parables [Ilori’s studio displays a number of his chair designs, including his 2013 Parable collection of upcycled chairs, ed.]: traditional Nigerian stories about love, hope or community. That’s where it started for me, and chairs are the thing I loved the most because they can tell stories. They’re sentimental objects.
Georgina It’s a communal object and that’s the meaning it imparts.
Yinka When you sit on a chair, there are just so many imprints of who has sat there. It’s a spiritual thing. I always say that a chair is used in parliament, it’s used in your home, in your car, in a café, in your studio, in the cinema. There’s an element of chairs bringing people together to rule, to destroy, to make love, to cry. It’s a very powerful symbol and that’s why I started to create these chairs I found, and then put my own story into them. That was my first introduction to design, but people didn’t get it at the time.
Georgina Now we’re in your new space, what story do you think it tells? And what stories, in general, do you want the spaces you design to tell?
Yinka My previous space was super small. When you work in a small environment, it’s very intimate and very personal. But that space didn’t really feel like mine. It wasn’t as energetic as this one, but it also wasn’t as calming. A space should be able to hold and capture your emotion instantly but also leave you feeling something.
Georgina It does feel like a wonderland.
Yinka Perfect. Amazing.
Georgina You can use that in the press release.
Yinka That’s what it is. It’s a wonderland of joy and magic. It’s a place to discover, dream and escape. When you’re in here you forget about outside.
Georgina It definitely is a portal. The doors, especially, are like a tunnel of love, or almost like a Wes Anderson submarine set.
Yinka We’ve also got all the public murals I’ve done here, like Love Always Wins [a 2021 permanent mural on Gordon Road, commissioned by Harrow Council, ed.]. There’s lots of affirmation and positivity in here. It’s good energy. The work we do here is about community, love and togetherness, so I want to project that. When you leave here, it has hopefully made your day nicer, more positive.
Georgina I love that affirmation. There’s one that says: “You’re so precious to me and I want the world to know I love you.”
Yinka I really care about giving people flowers now, not when they’re dead. If someone is sick, just say you think they’re incredible. We don’t do a lot of that. For me, it’s about doing it now because it’s so important.
Georgina I may be reaching, but maybe your spaces outside of the studio are also seeding that affirmation. Because people walk into them and there is that hope, there is that dream-like essence. You want a space to make you feel that, when you leave it, it has changed you.
Yinka That’s it. That’s totally what we want. My niece hasn’t been here yet and she would love it. She’ll have a field day. I want this space to be a space where there are no limits, where everything is possible. You can achieve anything in this space, and hopefully when you leave you will be left with that sense of joy. Because when you walk in here, you can’t control your smile – it’s not forced. It’s like comedy – there are some jokes where it’s just, this is funny. It’s that kind of uncontrollable joy. That’s what I think my work does and what colour can do in general.
“When you walk in here, you can’t control your smile – it’s not forced. That’s what I think my work does and what colour can do in general.”
Georgina What’s your first memory of colour?
Yinka It will always be around my mum and dad. It won’t be one thing, but maybe going to a series of different parties at this thing called Ondo Union. My mum is from a part of Nigeria called Ondo State. If you’re from a part of that state, all the women have this group where they host events. It’s like Soho House, basically.
Georgina Soho House for the aunties.
Yinka For the aunties! But the reason why that was important was because I liked the way the women would wear a lot of pink and lilac. It’s a handwoven fabric called asoke, which is what my mum would wear with all her friends – a lot of pink. And my dad had no choice but to wear pink because he had to match with my mum. He ain’t arguing, because you don’t argue with my mum and you don’t argue with Ondo women. But there is this joy in wearing something as a collective. It gives you a sense of belonging. It makes you feel like you’re not alone. My parents left Nigeria to come here and here is never home – even after 40 years, this is still not home for them.
Georgina I get it.
Yinka I get it too. I didn’t get it before, but I do now. But pink is my favourite colour. It reminds me of joy and moments of seeing my parents dancing and celebrating and just sharing love with being within their community. So one thing that has been a kind of shift in my work over the last two years is that I really care about creating work in public spaces for people who don’t get access to art: who can’t afford to get the bus or train to a museum, or who don’t feel comfortable going to those places. Sometimes those spaces are uninviting or inaccessible. Lockdown let me create work in public spaces on billboards. You can look at those murals, take a photo of them, and I had people messaging me to say, “Yinka, I felt really shit today and seeing your mural made me feel good.” Those messages are just super. It’s the best feeling.
Georgina You must be getting serotonin all the time.
Yinka We did quite a few of these murals. We did one with Buildhollywood, who own a lot of the advertising billboards [Better Days are Coming I Promise was installed in 2020 in Blackfriars, commissioned by Kensington + Chelsea Art Week, Jack Arts and CW+ in support of the work of health workers during the Covid-19 pandemic, ed.]. I didn’t get paid for it, but people need this. People were struggling; I was struggling. And this project changed the way I viewed my studio and the way in which the work I wanted to put out was going to be very much around communities and people who don’t get to experience art. I wanted to let them understand the value of art. I remember going for a walk in Acton and there was this block of towers, with this huge Thierry Noir mural [The Acton Giant (2017), ed.] It made me feel quite sad. This was during peak lockdown and I remember seeing kids looking out the window because they couldn’t go and play in their own garden.
Georgina The mural made you sad?
Yinka No, it was more the fact that were no play spaces. There was no playground, nothing for them to do. There was no public sculpture – nothing that could make them escape. The fact that you’re a kid who is three years old and that’s actually a huge part of your development where you can’t even go and see another kid. You’ve lost two years – you’re now five.
Georgina That’s a huge jump at that age. During a trip to Mexico I made recently, you would see buildings where you just wanted to be in them, because they were pink or blue. We don’t have that in England. It’s just grey, brown, beige. But there, it was wow.
Yinka That’s true. London is such a multicultural, diverse city, but it’s not reflected in its buildings. It should be though.
Georgina How do you evoke a sense of, as you said, community but also a sense of self? By having joy and seeing things that may push you to feel joy?
Yinka And that also push you towards that feeling of dreaming. My work now is very much about experiences and memory making.
Georgina I know it’s a while back, but I read that you did an A-level in sociology – do you think it’s related? Because that’s about social interaction, which is what I want to hinge this conversation on. Community is about human language and how we interact with the world around us. What should be at the top of everybody’s minds is how we safeguard these things like community, nature and our planet. I think the work you do is about creating appreciation.
Yinka Totally. My love has probably come a bit from sociology and so on, but also just growing up in North London in a huge estate and protecting your community. For everyone – my mum, my dad, my friends – it was so important. Even though it wasn’t the most amazing place, we loved what we had. So we would protect it and we were invested in making Islington and Essex Road the best place in the world. I think that idea definitely fed into the work I do now. I don’t know if you watched Chewing Gum with Michaela Coel?
Georgina Yeah.
Yinka That essentially talks about her estate and where she grew up – the joy and magic of growing up in that space. So for me, I try and look at spaces that feel like they need love, or whose voices can be amplified to tell their story.
“I can tap into those families who still have those ideas of ‘doctor, engineer, scientist’. You can have a successful career being whatever it is you want to be.”
Georgina That reminds me of how you’ve said you want to make this space an exhibition space.
Yinka This idea of passing it on or giving back is super important for me. I had struggles growing up. You know, young Black guy, African – my dad wanted me to be an engineer. I was like, “But I don’t want to be an engineer, I want to be an artist.” So for me it’s how I can tap into those families who still have those ideas of “doctor, engineer, scientist”. You can have a successful career being a fashion designer, an artist, an architect – whatever it is you want to be. I want to give people a space to showcase their work in any medium or form. With most galleries now you’re asked, “Where is your portfolio? Where have you shown before? Who are you with?” That’s hard. That’s one of the things I found hard. So if I can be of help to anyone who’s up-and-coming, they can show their work here. I have an inner hope that one day there’ll be a Yinka Ilori art fund or scholarship to fund people’s first show maybe.
Georgina The thought of building a space like this is that it’s not just for you, it’s also for future generations who may not even know they want to do this yet.
Yinka Totally. Sometimes artists or architectural practices are undercover or secretive – they’re not really inviting. In my old studio in Harrow, we had an open glass window and there were these twins – four- or five-years-old – and they would just come in, no knocking. That became the norm. They’d come in, look around, sit down. It was amazing that they obviously liked coming here and that may do something for them in future. The work I do is very much about play and kids and memory making. My project in Dundee is called Listening to Joy [a 2022 installation at V&A Dundee that formed a maze from zippable mesh walls and incorporated audio elements, ed.] and that was partially inspired by my niece. I got obsessed by how she expresses her joy. When she’s playing she’s just running around, and you can listen to her joy and laughter. There are no boundaries. That’s magic for me, because as we get older, we sometimes lose that, but we don’t have to. The joy is still in you; it’s just suppressed. What I’m trying to push adults to do is keep expressing themselves, keep listening, and keep experiencing joy in different forms.
Georgina How do you feel about your upcoming show at the Design Museum this year?
Yinka I’m super excited. Culturally, it’s a super important show for me and for people behind me. It’s going to be very unapologetic and very truthful to me. We’re referencing where I grew up, my family, my heritage, and faith, which was quite a big part of my upbringing and has fed into my practice. I wouldn’t say it’s a retrospective, but it’s a celebration of my journey and will give you an insight into where I started, my development, and where I’m going next. So I’m very excited. David Adjaye had a show there a couple of years ago that was called Making Memory, which was incredible and super inspiring to me. I hope mine can pave the way for other young creatives and dreamers. I always say that design is not the most inclusive space – creative space in general isn’t – so I hope it can open a door for a young artist, designer or architect who looks like me and who believes they can do that show even better. It’s going to be a space where I can immerse you and take you on a journey. And that’s a journey of not only design, but also what has inspired me musically and how music feeds into my work: Fela Kuti, King Sunny Adé, and all these people who are poets and storytellers through music. When those people sing, they are telling you a story and you’re going on a journey. I was so young when I was introduced to these incredible Nigerian artists, but all the themes they were singing about are still so relevant now.
Georgina That’s very powerful.
Yinka I think there’s something about relevance there. The legacy of my work needs to be relevant in 20, 30, 40, 60 years’ time. I don’t want to create work for now. It’s for forever.
Words Georgina Johnson
Photographs Kane Hulse
This article was originally published in Disegno #33. To buy the issue, or subscribe to the journal, please visit the online shop.