Drawing on his extensive decades-long journey across European and Asian design landscapes—from his award-winning work in Paris and his foundational years in manufacturing ateliers to establishing Akar de Nissim in Singapore and collaborating with elite luxury maisons—French designer Richard Le Sand sits down with Muhammad Aljunied to discuss the philosophy of true luxury, the sacred connection between the designer’s hand and the craftsman, and the evolution of a minimalist yet deeply sensuous creative vision.
Muhammad Aljunied: Richard, looking back at your trajectory—from your early days and winning first prize at Maison&Objet in Paris to relocating to Singapore and shaping contemporary luxury furniture and interiors—how has your relationship with the “stroke” and the material evolved?
Richard Le Sand: When you start out, you are often trying to prove something, adhering tightly to the rules of execution. Over the course of my career—having drawn well over 500 pieces of furniture and twice as many home accessories—the stroke naturally becomes freer. Today, it is purer. It has gained in expressiveness and dares a certain eclecticism.
My inspiration nowadays can come from anywhere: a stray architectural element, a striking work of art, an unexpected raw material, or a complex assembly technique. But through it all, I never lose sight of the foundational truth: a piece of furniture is, first and foremost, an element meant to dress an interior, an expression of comfort, and a silent witness to its era.
Muhammad Aljunied: You’ve often emphasized the physical workshop over abstract drawing. Why is that direct contact with manufacturing ateliers so critical to your process?
Richard Le Sand: Because you cannot truly understand publishing or design from behind a computer screen. It is inside the manufacturing ateliers that I truly learned the craft. You have to learn the gesture, understand the raw behaviors of materials, and experience the demanding commitment that high-quality furniture requires.
At Akar de Nissim, and throughout my work, every piece stands as a direct prolongation between the designer’s hand and the hand of the craftsman. Whether it’s working hand-in-hand with cabinetmakers, ceramists, brass casting experts, upholsterers, or stone suppliers, that human dialogue is irreplaceable. True French excellence favors discretion over ostentatious effects. It doesn’t shout; it reveals itself through touch, detail, and integrity.
Muhammad Aljunied: Your career spans an incredible breadth, including a decade-long partnership with Hermès through your work with Hanoia, and more recently, collaborating with global architecture practices like SCDA Architects alongside Soo Khian Chan. How do you navigate the scale between intimate furniture design and massive architectural interior spaces?
Richard Le Sand: Scale changes, but the soul of the design shouldn’t. Whether you are designing a small lacquer accessory or curating art and interior architecture for a major development, the goal is to imbue space with an occidental spirit and timeless elegance.
With lacquerware, for instance, you learn patience—lacquer demands time, weather compliance, and layer upon layer of human care. When I work with architectural practices to instill interior design or set up in-house art consulting, it’s driven by the same philosophy: creating distinctive environments that reflect a deep sensitivity to human habitation. We aren’t just filling space; we are shaping how people feel within it.
Muhammad Aljunied: In a world that constantly rushes toward fast digital trends and mass production, your work insists on slowness, heritage, and uncompromising craftsmanship. What do you hope people feel when they encounter a piece bearing the Le Sand stamp?
Richard Le Sand: I hope they feel a sense of calm and quiet permanence. Part heritage, part contemporary, infused with sensuality. In a world of noise, true luxury is quiet. It’s about creating objects that do not scream for attention, but rather anchor you to the present moment. When someone touches a piece of furniture or walks through a space we’ve shaped, I want them to sense the human narrative embedded in every line—the dialogue between past and present, between creator and artisan. That connection is what keeps the craft alive.
