Architecture begins with the body. Space is measured against it—its movement, its reach, its senses. Materials organize its shelter, shaping the layer between skin and environment. The work of Issey Miyake extends this idea into fashion: garments do not simply clothe the body; they create space around it. Our collaboration with the Miyake Design Studio team began with a material that usually remains invisible. During the pleating process, thin sheets of paper accompany the fabric through the machines, protecting it as folds are formed. Over time, these sheets accumulate and are compressed into large cylindrical rolls. Encountering these rolls for the first time, we were struck by their physical presence. What initially appeared as an industrial remainder revealed itself instead as a material body with its own potential—light yet structured, fragile yet capable of holding form.

 

Our work with the material began in the most direct way: by playing with it. In our practice, we often approach matter without a predetermined outcome, allowing experimentation to guide the process. We were interested in its capacity to be shaped into new geometries while preserving the memory of its pleated structure. The sheets were shaped freely or wrapped around existing objects, forming temporary envelopes. The series of works that resulted from this exploration is titled Shell. Each object emerged from a fleeting configuration of folds, wrinkles, and tensions—an arrangement that existed only for a brief moment before being fixed. The pleats, originally developed to allow clothing to expand and contract with the body, now generate volume and form at another scale. In parallel, the work titled Core investigates the compressed interior of the paper roll itself. By solidifying the paper cylinders with melted wax and cutting them, they produced furniture prototypes that explore the density and strength of the material.

 

One approach expresses lightness and surface; the other solidity and mass. Materials carry histories and behaviors that can guide new forms if we are willing to listen to them. The Paper Log project suggests that design does not always require new materials; sometimes it simply requires looking again at what already exists. The work presented here is less a finished object than an ongoing inquiry—an attempt to read the story already written into a material and to imagine how that story might continue in another form.