The Monobloc Manifesto
We live in an era of acceleration.
Fast food. Fast fashion. Fast art. We consume before we digest, and we produce before we process. Everything is optimized, digitized, and smoothed out by algorithms.
Monobloc is a deliberate act of resistance. Here, we embrace the friction of the physical world. We celebrate the slowness of the craft and the messy, unforgiving, beautiful process of making things by hand. There are no screens in the workshop. There are no shortcuts.
Inspired by the raw, utilitarian ethos of the original Monobloc chair, this project is built on a foundation of absolute analog purity: No patents. No 3D designs. No computers. No cutting corners. Every object in this space requires time, patience, and human hands:
Captured exclusively through the deliberate, mechanical mechanisms of medium format analog cameras, then housed in frames built entirely by hand.
Handcrafted solid wood (primarily walnut and beech) meets durable steel and inox in traditional grills, modern trolleys and furniture. Every piece is defined by time and care, shaped by hours of meticulous hand and machine sanding.
Made from what the woodwork leaves behind. Offcuts are laid out and cast in silicone to make a mold, then concrete goes into that. What comes out is a heavy wall piece with the texture of the scraps still in it.
Small, functional, and sculptural items shaped, fired, and finished entirely by hand, each one bearing the subtle imperfections of a human touch.
We do not mass-produce. We do not render. We make. Welcome to Monobloc.
Why?
For 15 years I have been sitting in a chair, staring at a screen, writing code for a living. I still do. Last year the screen started talking back. An AI writes the code now. An AI wrote this website.
At some point you realize the chair is the problem. The screen is the problem. The endless abstraction from the physical world is the problem.
Monobloc is the exit. Dust on your hands. Concrete that won't forgive a mistake. Film that gives you ten shots and no undo. Things that exist in the room with you, not behind glass.
This is not a hobby. This is a course correction.