Gensler Lights Up An Investment Firm’s Park Avenue Workplace

Postpandemic workplace challenges presented rich opportunities for the redesign of a global investment firm’s Park Avenue workplace. Stefanie Shunk, principal of the perennially top-ranking Giants firm Gensler—and a recent Interior Design HiP Leader Award winner—led the transformation, which expanded the client’s existing office onto contiguous floors. The primary goals were to better connect teams, present layers of visual intrigue, and add top-tier hospitality touches and overall warmth. Also vital was offsetting the site’s low ceiling heights, which Shunk and her team achieved via clever overhead elements designed to emulate skylights. One of them illuminates the central staircase, with weighty Minerva Gray marble treads, that unifies five levels of the 180,000-square-foot space. Its bronze railings complement the suspended three-story, bronzed-aluminum screen by Giles Miller Studio that extends up one side. A collection of blue-chip artworks, 22 in all, plays a central role throughout, including another architectonic screen element, this one commissioned from Mark Hagen to back the reception desk. And in a nearby corridor is Casablanca #1, a monumental Richard Serra piece in oil stick, etching ink, and silica on paper, its straightforward appearance belying that it was masterfully crafted in intricate layers—much like this project itself.

The Making Of An Immersive London Design Festival Installation

For London Design Festival, Melekzeynepstudio installed thousands of suspended cubes that responded to visitor sound and movement, a concept inspired by a neurological condition.

Melekzeynepstudio Creates Duo For London Design Festival

• 160 designers, engineers, lighting and sound technicians, and installers led by Melekzeynepstudio founder Melek Zeynep Bulut
• 6,480 cubes
• 19,000 linear feet of steel cable
• One dozen speakers
• 6 microphones
• 2 sensors

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Designer and Melekzeynepstudio founder Melek Zeynep Bulut has synesthesia, which causes sensory crossovers—tasting colors, feeling sounds—and her projects are often informed by the neurological condition.

One such was Duo, a site-specific temporary installation she created over the course of three months from interactive acrylic cubes for London Design Festival last September, collaborating with consultants on isometric views and sectional drawings using Rhinoceros, KeyShot, and Photoshop software.

A rendering shows Duo where it was ultimately exhibited, the Painted Hall, an 18th-century building with elaborate murals often referred to as Britain’s Sistine Chapel that’s part of the Old Royal Naval College.

Measuring 46 feet long, suspended 20 feet from the ground via stainless-steel cables, the 40 rows of acrylic cubes formed a cuboid pierced by a vaulted tunnel through which visitors walked, their sound and movement captured by microphones, speakers, and sensors.

Duo’s handmade cubes, which were mostly 7 inches square except for the halved cubes that formed the arch, progressed from opaque white at the perimeter to transparent near the center for optical depth. As visitors proceeded through, microphones captured their voices, which were echoed back into the installation through speakers, and sensors detected movement, triggering dynamic waves of light.

10 Questions With… Interior Designer Jessica Schuster

At the same time, I was studying at NYU and working in fashion, so it just naturally evolved. It wasn’t a grand plan, but more of a series of fortunate events—like interning for creative director Tui Pranich—that led me into design.

ID: You started Jessica Schuster Design in 2013. What did you learn from the firms you worked with before and what came from within yourself?

JS: From the firms I worked with, I learned the importance of being organized behind the scenes. The operational side of the business is just as crucial as the design side. I also learned the value of transparency and keeping an open dialogue with clients—making sure they feel informed and involved in the process. What came from within me was a desire to foster a collaborative environment—one that is both fun and challenging. I wanted the studio to be a place where creativity thrives, but where there’s also room for growth and innovation.

ID: What sustains your creative energy?

JS: Staying engaged in the world around me is key. Whether it’s traveling, visiting art galleries, or attending design fairs, I’m always looking for new sources of inspiration. I find that keeping my finger on the pulse of what’s happening globally helps me bring fresh energy to every project. It’s not just about the new trends, but also about experiencing new places and meeting new people that influences the direction of my work. In each new project, I’m able to channel that inspiration into something unique and meaningful.

ID: What’s your approach when working with different types of clients?

JS: Every client is different. I think a huge part of my job is educating them about how design can elevate their life and how to live luxuriously in a way that’s personal to them. Understanding their needs and goals for the space is always the starting point. Some clients have designed homes before and are more familiar with the process, while others are learning as they go. I really enjoy working with such a varied clientele—families, bachelors, and hospitality clients—all with different visions. The key is to adapt my approach to each unique project, whether it’s residential or hospitality, and I provide a tailored experience that suits their needs.

ID: What types of palettes and materials are you drawn to and why?

JS: Each project has its own personality, so no two palettes are ever the same. Lately, though, I’ve been drawn to deeper, more saturated colors—there’s something intriguing and moody about them. For example, with the Chelsea Project, our client was passionate about primary colors, and I loved finding ways to bring them into the design in an elevated, timeless way. I’m always drawn to the juxtaposition of contemporary pieces with antique elements—like Italian and French mid-century, Brazilian design—it keeps the space feeling dynamic and layered. The beauty of what we do is that no two projects are alike, so I get to explore a wide range of materials, styles, and aesthetics.

ID: What do you hope to create when working on hospitality projects?

JS: For me, hospitality design is about creating spaces that people can engage with, spaces that spark conversation and make people feel something. We’re currently working on a project at Windham Mountain Club in New York, where we’re designing several different spaces throughout the development. The challenge is creating a cohesive narrative while also allowing each space—whether it’s the inn, spa, or activity center—to feel unique. It’s been incredibly rewarding to design spaces that elevate the user experience, helping people connect with the environment and enjoy their time on the mountain in a new way.

ID: How does place inform your interiors, or are you more concerned with creating a refuge from specific locations?

JS: I think it’s a bit of both. The architecture and location of a space definitely inform the design, but I also love creating a sense of refuge for the people who live there. In a city like New York, for example, it’s all about balancing the home’s architecture with an interior that feels like an escape from the hustle and bustle of the city outside. I’m always inspired by the history of the space, the stories it holds, and the needs of the client. That’s when the magic happens—when you take those elements and create something that’s truly unique, a space that feels like it’s been designed just for them.

ID: And you’re working on your own apartment. Can you tell us about that process?

JS: Designing my own space has definitely been a challenge. There’s something about being your own client that makes every decision feel high stakes! The process has been slower than I’d like because the studio is always busy, but it’s also been incredibly rewarding. I’ve gone through several iterations, but I’ve ended up with a design that’s much more classical than I initially envisioned. I’ve been inspired by French classic designers and their use of timeless materials and elegant details. I think of it as creating a sanctuary—a space that reflects where I am in life right now and offers a peaceful escape.

ID: You’ve said you’re inspired by timeless joy. What does that mean to you?

JS: Timeless joy, for me, is about the beauty of a well-designed piece that can stand the test of time. It’s like the work of Italian architect Gio Ponti or Italian designer Piero Fornasetti—masterpieces that remain relevant and beautiful, no matter when or where they’re placed. It’s about collecting iconic pieces that spark conversation and bring a sense of joy to a space. Each piece has a story, and that sense of timelessness is something I aim to bring into every project.

ID: What are you currently working on, and what would you like to work on next?

JS: Right now, we’re working on several exciting projects across the country—from South Florida and NYC to the Hamptons, Malibu, and the Caribbean. Each project is a new challenge and an opportunity to bring something special to life. Looking ahead, I’d love to continue expanding our portfolio, especially in hospitality and high-end residential design, while always staying true to what makes Jessica Schuster Design unique: our commitment to creativity, collaboration, and elevating the spaces we touch.

The Call Of The Sea Guides This Moody Beachfront Structure

2024 Best of Year Winner for Social Impact

The call of the sea guided the renovation of Reef, a 3,000-square-foot beachfront structure whose main purpose is to support the needs of visitors to a reef in Guantouling, a tourism zone in southwest China known for its mountains, beaches along the Gulf of Tonkin, and Buddhist temple. The Beihai, China, project by C&C Design Co. entailed transforming serviceable facilities into cinematic spaces, with glass dividers that can be lit ocean blue or sunset gold, colors found in nature. Additionally, there are lockers, men’s and women’s toilets and showers, a handwashing station with a faceted mirror that looms over­head like a stalactite, and a coffee bar, all ingeniously built into existing, eroded rock. Breathtaking views of the gulf and Pacific Ocean beyond command the most attention. The result instills visitors with the understanding that humanity is part of the natural world, reminding that we save ourselves when we protect it.

PROJECT TEAM: PENG ZHENG; XIE ZEKUN; XIA SHENGYUE.

10 Questions With… Peter Zuspan of Bureau V Architecture

Peter Zuspan Crafts Architectural Projects With Cultural Expression

Interior Design: What drew you to architecture and to founding Bureau V Architecture with architect Stella Lee?

Peter Zuspan: It’s a fun cocktail of confusion, ignorance, and friendship. I came to architecture through a process of elimination. At one point, I decided to take a studio course with architect/filmmaker Madeline Schwartzman. I was so confused by it all. I wasn’t a great student, but I was intrigued. I’m drawn to things I don’t quite understand at first. (Madeline has remained a friend and supporter of my work—I can’t overstate the importance of good teachers.)

Over the years, I worked with several architects and business partners. Stella has been my longest design collaborator. We met in grad school, both worked for other architects for a few years, and were itching to quit. We were in our 20s, unlicensed, and figured if we were going to try doing our own thing, it was as good a time as any. Ignorance of what it takes to start a studio played a huge role in launching Bureau V Architecture. But we also wanted to turn our friendship into a creative voice and to create a practice where life outside the studio was as philosophically integral as time spent in it.

ID: What were the firm’s earliest projects and what do you reflect on when you look back at them?

PZ: BVA’s first projects were on the fringes of architecture. I have a background in performance, so that experience substantially informed the studio’s early work. We did a performance at the Guggenheim with the collective assume vivid astro focus, fashion installations with Mary Ping of Slow and Steady Wins the Race at PS1 and Lafayette Anticipations, and a performance installation with Arto Lindsay at the Venice Biennale. We had collaborative projects in major cultural institutions early on—but always through a back door, invited by the artists, not the institutions.

A year into our studio, we received the commission for National Sawdust, an acoustically driven chamber music hall in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. It became our first completed building and, arguably, the project we’re still most known for. While it took eight years for it to be completed, it really was one of our earliest design projects.

These early works absolutely inform the way we think today. Our design processes are grounded in working with people we respect and in listening to them. We also love to take on projects with new problems that we haven’t encountered before. We had never designed an installation before. We had never performed in a museum. We had never designed a chamber music hall. But we did all of these things, and somehow convinced some incredible people to trust us. We rely on that trust and that sense of possibility in all of work.

ID: How did you want to engage with history, as well as the contemporary, with the new Bushwick Starr, previously a warehouse?

PZ: The Bushwick Starr was a new exploration for us, helping us find a new method for resolving what important design could be and how it manifests. National Sawdust is very visually assertive; the Starr was not going to follow that path. We needed to create a space that supported inventive performances while somehow keeping the space unkempt, a bit feral, familiar, but also highly tuned. It was quite a puzzle.

We started with the familiar. The post-industrial art space is, at this point, a well-established and approachable international style. From London’s Tate Modern to Beijing’s 798 Art Zone to Brooklyn’s St. Ann’s Warehouse, there is a scenographic quality to these urban masonry buildings that can help to remove intimidation from a patron’s approach to a cultural institution.

We wanted to rely on this model of familiarity, but also take it a step further and in some ways mask the space. Many of the single-story buildings that occupy the Starr’s immediate neighborhood house car repair shops. So we decided to base the building’s lobby, something the Starr had never had before, in this hyper-local vernacular. This reference made the space familiar, absolutely not precious, but also not a theater lobby. And the idea is that this conceptual cocktail creates a new lobby typology—one that can grow into having its own program and culture within the Starr community and can help to establish a new spatial identity for the future of the institution.

ID: How were you thinking about building community when working on the Goat Farm Arts Center?

PZ: We were brought into Goat Farm Arts Center to spearhead the design of its 12-acre campus. The Goat Farm has been a naturally occurring artist and artisan community in Atlanta since the 1970s. So, in many ways, we were less tasked with building community and more helping the team understand how design can help enshrine an existing community and its identity in perpetuity.

The arts context in Atlanta is very different than it is, say, in New York City. As a state, Georgia ranks the lowest in available governmental and institutional arts funding. The Goat Farm has long survived this lack of support by combining real estate prowess with supporting artists and their community. It’s an inventive model: channeling gentrification into supporting rather than displacing artists. (It’s actually a similar strategy to the one we used in the design of National Sawdust). So, in their efforts to develop the property to add more density of occupation and thus more funds to support the arts ecosystem, they asked for our help to understand what role design could play in this form of supportive development.

I grew up in Atlanta. While I understand much of the city’s larger context, I haven’t lived there for many years. We spent a great deal of time speaking with artists in the community, researching and understanding work that has come out of the campus over the years, as well as understanding what the campus’s past has been. One of the primary goals that we landed on was for the Goat Farm to maintain an identity as an artists’s backyard. Its exterior spaces should create a kind of interior. It should be at an approachable scale, hold ample, uncurated outdoor space to take a walk around in. It should be a place where you could sit down outside your studio on any given afternoon or evening and immediately feel like you’re home.

ID: You’ve done numerous projects in New York City and also worked outside of it. In what ways does place inform your projects?

PZ: Location is really important in our work. As architects, we are often tasked with constructing the physical and psychological value of a place. It’s an incredible opportunity and responsibility.

While we are based in New York City, we are working more and more outside of it. I am a firm believer in the power of ignorance to find new solutions, devise new ideas, and create powerful new expressive works. So the opportunity to work in new contexts is an important part of the studio’s creative practice. We have to work hard outside of our home turf to listen and understand the voices that occupy the space of our projects, but listening can be a profoundly creative space.

ID: I understand you are a trained opera singer. Can you tell us about your manifesto on opera as well as your multi-disciplinary residency at the San Francisco Opera?

PZ: In addition to the countless lives lost to the pandemic, its wake has also fundamentally shifted how we think about public gatherings and events. In many ways, we are just starting to understand some of these ramifications. In 2022, the San Francisco Opera developed a residency program where they invited six artists from different disciplines to learn about the process of making opera and to think with them, in the strangeness of this time and context, on what opera’s future could be. The idea was essentially to leverage both our disciplinary expertises with our collective ignorance of opera production to help think about new trajectories for the medium.

Encounter Machines grew out of this residency. The project is a manifesto of writings and drawings that I have been developing over the past few years. The project works through issues of bigness, failure, queerness, ignorance, and the peculiarities of opera to position new concepts for the medium that rely heavily on space and design as tools for finding new relevances for opera. It also posits how design should conceptually listen to opera—a sometimes antiquated, but powerful medium that understands scale and empathy so well, and has managed to turn a scream into something beautiful and desirable.

ID: And your firm is quite multi-disciplinary itself, tackling architecture, industrial design, installations, event design, and more. How does that approach provide creative opportunities?

PZ: While BVA is closest to an architectural practice in our methods and philosophy, we do work in mediums beyond its boundaries. And the studio’s origins are in work outside of architecture—in performance and installations.

I love architecture, but I first studied it in a liberal arts context alongside literature, political philosophy, ethics, and art history. Many of my friends work in the arts, so when I’m not in the studio, I’m watching films, going to performances, seeing exhibitions, and talking about them. It’s this context that frames how I think about design. I believe architecture is at its most vital when it is crossed with the complexities of human life and different forms of cultural expression. As I like architecture that is muddied by life’s complexities, I think it’s important that the studio’s work takes leaps outside of itself as well. We’ve been lucky enough to have been granted some of those opportunities—to use our ignorance to new disciplines as a weapon to combat the more staid currents within our own industry, and to leverage its strengths within others.

ID: In what ways does emerging technology fuel your work and your projects?

PZ: My mother worked for IBM for 32 years, and my father was a computer programmer. In the early days of the studio, before our income was more stable, I used to take on coding jobs to make ends meet. Technology has played an outsized role in my life for as long as I can remember. And, in many ways, technology is not so much something I’ve been fascinated with (which I have been), but is more so a means by which I process ideas.

When we were designing National Sawdust’s interior chamber hall, we were faced with a complex problem of how to create a compelling, visual space that was going to be absolutely overwrought with cables, outlets, registers, grilles, interfaces, courtesy outlets, and various apparatuses. Writing code as a creative process was as much a part of our design process as was our hand-drawing of its interior ornamental patterning. It was a means by which we could understand and orchestrate complexity.

ID: Are there any lessons or architectural gestures from past projects that are informing current projects, including the Leslie Lohman Museum of Art and HERE Art Center?

PZ: Both of these projects have developed communities over decades. While I consider myself part of these communities in ways, I am, of course, no expert. So in that sense, taking the time to understand the human context of our past projects has absolutely impacted how we are approaching the design of these projects.

Drawing in the margins of the voices of others is one of my favorite means of thinking and designing. I’ll say it again, listening can be such fertile creative ground. While BVA has become known for some spatial ideas, I think the piece that links our work more closely is this process of working in the margins of others. We don’t believe in the heroic architect model. We believe the best and most inventive ideas often come from the margins, where way more communication and experimentation are possible.

ID: Is there a different type of project you’re hoping to work on in the coming years or perhaps a sector or discipline you feel drawn to explore?

PZ: There are definitely a few things I’ve been dreaming of. I’d love to design the space or set for an opera. I’d also love to work on architecture that is not quite meant for people. To design a power plant or an art storage facility—these programs that are here for us, but with a degree of separation from us—would be fascinating. And I’d also love to do a fantastic residential project. We have just started working on designing a home. As I reflect on our studio’s past and where I hope it will go, collaborating with incredible people has always given me the most pleasure in design.