Issue link: https://read.dmtmag.com/i/48690
New work by Jenkin will be on view at Southern Guild gallery— a Design Miami/ newcomer. Design Miami/ newcomer Southern Guild showcases the work of South African designers, including Gregor Jenkin, whose new collection of furniture is seen here. We caught up with the young designer to get his take on South Africa's place in the international design dialogue. You've trained as an industrial engineer, an architect, and did a stint as a prop maker. How does this background inform your process and the work you make? All of these professions are similar in the sense that they share a relationship between a concept, a manufacturing process and the context into which the finished product is released. It's the differences between them, however, that was of interest to me in my education. On the most fundamental level, these differences relate to the scale at which the various practitioners work: industrial engineering is often a matter of refining a level of detail within the realms of physics and economics, ar- chitectural training frequently deals with hypothetical thinking on a domes- tic and urban scale. Both of these are important ways of thinking about design. When I was younger, I didn't really see working as a prop maker as anything more profound than a fun job and a way to broaden my skills and make things. Your exhibition with Southern Guild marks the first time that a South African design gallery has exhibited at Design Miami/. Where do you see South Africa's place in the international design dialogue? This is a com- plex question in the sense that 'design' doesn't have a universal definition in relation to an international dialogue. It's understandably tempting to see the problem-solving aspect of design as a key export of developing countries, on account of the number of challenges we face. The reality within a country like South Africa, however, is somewhat different because our society is look- ing to design as one of the tools with which we're crafting a new national identity. The range of influences from which creatives can draw is simply too broad for the world to ignore. Can you provide some context for the design communities in Johannes- burg and Cape Town and your place within that? Johannesburg is South Africa's economic powerhouse. It's a manufacturing giant on account of the proximity of a mining industry that still hauls about a third of the world's gold from beneath its ground. I started my studio there because it's my home town but also because for the first 18 months, our focus was on producing a vast range of prototypes, and the city's access to production facilities means it's the kind of place where you can do that quickly and quietly. Cape Town is a far more beautiful city, in the traditional sense, and its overt charms attract a broader spectrum of visitors from around the world, as well as the majority of the country's creative industries and personnel. The result is that Cape Town has a far more vocal design community, and we opened a studio there to participate in this. Realistically, I think both cities play a critical role in the national design industry. Much of your work is narrative based with the strong socio-political over- tones more often associated with art than design. Why is it so important that design address these ideas and what distinguishes your work from that of say a sculptor or painter? To be fair, I'm not sure what distinguishes any designer's work from that of a sculptor or a painter; ours is a profession in which what we author is born of a desire to communicate something. The mistake is to think that utility is what distinguishes a piece of art from a design solution. I think that the reason the 'socio-political' aspect of my work is prevalent is because it's made in the politically-charged context of the country in which I live. It's important to remember that, for me, this country is a resource—the same way that Danish design has a traditional relationship with wood, and therefore a particular mode of craftsmanship, and outcome.—Brent Dzekciorius CULTURED 61