David Weeks has built a company designing high-end lighting, and creates whimsical products such as Hanno the Gorilla for Areaware on the side. While he once dreamed of having a clean, white, all-digital office, he’s since realized that’s boring. His true love is dealing with the nitty-gritty details of materials and manufacturing. www.davidweeksstudio.com
You have experience both manufacturing your own products and working with companies who manufacture your designs. What are the differences between the two?
When I started making stuff myself, I thought, “I’m not going to do this forever. Eventually I’m going to have my clean studio with white walls and design on my computer all day.” But once I got near that, I didn’t want it anymore. It’s boring. The experience is much more satisfying when I make the work myself. It feels very real.
Product development for other companies takes forever, and the royalties are 2-3 years out. You’ve either got to be really attached to that product, or have cranked out the drawings in three days. My problem is that it’s hard for me to be that cavalier and hands-off about my products. I work primarily with Areaware and Kikkerland. The more concept-based ideas usually go to Kikkerland, and the more hands-on signature-style pieces go to Areaware. I have a different relationship with each company.
The Areaware/Kikkerland items are very inspiring for me. When I sit down with a simple idea or concept, commit to it, draw it, and make a prototype, so much happens in the process that I end up with a really nice product with a lot of depth. It’s the follow-through on all those random ideas that matters.
I look to the future of the studio, and I think there is so much potential. Every time I think we’re getting near the ceiling, I’ll realize, actually we could make furniture. Or we could make wooden-toys, or flashlights, or ashtrays. You have to stay in there and keep your mind open. It’s a bummer to think, “I’ve been doing lighting for 12 years so I’ll just keep doing what’s selling.”
Could you describe your design philosophy?
It’s really hands on. The shop versus the computer. Now, after having done this for awhile, I see lots of renderings, from student work to design companies launching new products. I miss that there are rarely any fingerprints apparent in the process. So many great decisions get made in the period between turning a rendering into an actual object. I’m much more interested in the development process and the visceral instincts one brings to making things for humans.
For a furniture design we did for Pucci, I was initially trying to be very clinical. But eventually I just got some foam, cut a block that looked about the right size, and shaped it until I got it where I wanted it. I think it was successful because it has a real breath to it, which wouldn’t have happened if it had come right out of a computer. After having worked with a lot of materials, I have a good idea of what a 16-gauge piece of steel will do, or how long half-inch tubing can be with natural deflection. Metal is the material I’m most comfortable with, because it’s so elastic, forgiving, and expansive.
We saw online that you studied painting at RISD. What led to your interest in product design?
I was doing a lot of sculpture and mixed media work at RISD. I came to New York ready to be an artist, but initially I just worked a lot of odd jobs to make ends meet. I ended up working for Ted Muehling. I still can’t believe I stumbled into that job. His level of commitment to his vision was just so intense. There was one day when we were sanding glass vases that he had blown; they weren’t perfect enough, so we were back at the shop sink with diamond grit sandpaper to get them completely smooth.
Basically, Ted changed my point of view. Because his designs are still art, he is not a typical designer. He is that perfect mix of sculptor, artisan, craftsman, and designer; all the things I wanted in my own work. Home objects seemed like a good angle for me to take, because to make jewelry would be too close to what Ted was doing. Furniture was too large for my studio, but lighting was sort of just right. I made ten desks lamps to get the ball rolling and Troy in Soho picked them up right away. That was sort of a transitional moment. Art at the time was feeling so subjective, and design and lighting seemed like a good path to take.
Now my main business is lighting, and that business allows me to do my more unusual projects. I think, in the end, small product-design studios in the U.S. need to be entrepreneurs and participate primarily in the high-end market. Ikea and Crate & Barrel already have the low-end covered. The mainstream U.S. buyer isn’t always ready to spend the extra money for quality design. I ended up going to Ralph Pucci with my lighting. Pucci elevated the whole thing, both product and brand. It wasn’t a stretch for them to ask $10,000 for a chandelier. The work found a home there, because Pucci already had an audience of high-end customers.
All of our lamps are made in the USA. The one thing I had made in China turned out so badly I never did it again. I bought 10,000 sockets and they were all bad. After that I decided to stay with American manufacturers, and keep the lights at a price point where we can do that. It’s definitely luxurious, but it makes for a better product.
Did you always know you wanted to be high design? Is that the route your first lamps took?
I suppose it wasn’t supposed to be. It was really based on Ted’s business model: making it for yourself, making things you like, and working out sculptural problems through functional objects. In hindsight, it was crazy. In the beginning, I really made no money on it. Granted, it was just me in a studio with some tools, so there wasn’t much overhead and I was covering my expenses. But I would charge $250 for a lamp that took me four days to make.
Then again, I did it as an experiment. I was trying out lighting and production as a business idea. New York is great in the sense that if one or two people find you and like what you do, then they will start to spread the word. So it just slowly happened that over five or six years, the business grew. I did the ICFF. I was out there, I promoted myself, but I didn’t really have a game plan. It was more just based on what the market would bear.
How did trade shows help you?
I had to step out and present myself. I couldn’t just hide away in my studio and make things. I started showing right when the furniture market was becoming interesting. People here woke up and saw what was going on in Milan. I did ICFF consistently for four or five years, and the business grew naturally.
The London design show, 100% Design, was one of the last shows I was in. I went to London in ‘98 or ‘99, and the work there was just so much better. The energy level was higher; everyone was excited about it. That was the moment when I knew I was totally committed to design. I also realized that I wasn’t just dealing with NYC, I was dealing with the world. I didn’t want to make only lamps, but rather figure out how I fit into the whole system of design and how I could contribute to the conversation.
You also started Butter, a product design studio, with Lindsey Adelman. How does that fit into the picture?
Lindsay was working with me in 1999, when we designed Lunette. It was a sewn fiberglass-paper flat-packing lampshade. We started Butter because Lunette felt like a good product that needed a good company to hold it. I still make Lunette, and I would love to get it out again because I feel like it never got to the larger market. Butter lasted for 5 years, but I had a kid, and she had a kid, and the momentum never really got going. It’s a shame, because everyone really appreciated it. People liked the idea of this little friendly company that made nice products in the USA.
Do you have any advice for entrepreneurs that you’d like to leave us with?
Perseverance, patience and commitment. There are a lot of people who are talented, believe in themselves for a year or two, and then get distracted. New York’s a great place to be. I don’t think I would have had nearly the success I have anywhere else. It has an organic quality which is very rare, and it’s so business oriented. You meet someone, find out what they do, and try to think of someone you think they should know. But you have to be open to it. I don’t know if it’s a karma thing, or a personal thing, but if you don’t open your eyes to the possibilities then things won’t flourish the way they should.