Before coming to Eindhoven, I studied metal craftsmanship at Ecole Boulle. This school teaches students the traditional French craft heritage. There, I learned to have a good vision in 3D, precise technical skills and an eye for quality. Some aspects of this education have remained strongly in my mind: as we were forging our own tools with a fire torch and a hammer, I designed my own tools -all laser cut in steel- to construct the ‘Regen’ garments and accessories. I also love all the little technical tricks that make crafts and techniques being so smart. And to conclude, I really enjoy the craftsman routine: spending time in an atelier, being physically active and focused, trying out different tools, making a mess, and having the greatest satisfactory feeling when all the products are finally done and the atelier is clean again.
What fascinates you about designing materials?
First of all I would say that I am a materialist and therefore, I like to touch and feel the matter. I like the weight, the texture and the smell of things. I feel connected to the materials because my senses can relate to them. I like the smell of Argon when I weld, the smell of sheep when I work with wool, the smell of latex when I work on ‘Regen’. All these details give an atmosphere to my days. Besides this, I am seeking unexpected outcomes from common materials. I enjoy playing with their limits, or combine them to extract possibilities they haven’t given yet. When I manage to get a surprising effect, then I feel that I have achieved my goal.
Can you describe your creative process?
Gold had no patience for complainers; he made gladiators, not big-armed girls. The son of a Jewish junkman, he'd grown up in the working-class slums of ., and he had learned to fight his battles when the Polish toughs hassled him after school. In high school, he began hanging around the Muscle Beach Weight Pen , where the giants of the day posed for boardwalk crowds that grew to the tens of thousands on weekends. Gold got big there and formed lifelong friendships, and though he was gone for long chunks of the next two decades – to the South Pacific in World War II, where he was injured by a torpedo strike, and to South America with the Merchant Marines until he quit sailing in the early 1960s – his heart was firmly docked off Muscle Beach. When the authorities shut the Pen down in 1959, declaring it a magnet for "low morality" (read: big bodies, small swimsuits, horny tourists), Gold's friends scattered to dives like the Dungeon and a new, bare-bones weight pit on Venice Beach. Gold built his gym to bring those beasts home, and charged them the sweetheart rate of $40 a year. "If you didn't have the cash, though – and a lot of them didn't – Joe would let you slide," says Drasin. "Hell, at some point or another, he supported half those guys. Paid 'em to show up and do nothing."