There’s a certain kind of designer who moves effortlessly between industrial design, furniture, lighting, decoration, without ever fully belonging to just one, who can apply his design language to formal pieces, commercial pieces, and to fun, lighthearted ones, too, without losing his edge. Philippe Malouin is one of them. Known for a practice that balances precision with experimentation, his work spans from rigorously engineered objects to more sculptural, instinct-driven pieces, always grounded in a deep understanding of materials and production. It’s this very simple and clear duality between the technical and the intuitive that has made him one of the most distinctive voices of his generation.
That same clarity carries into conversation. Direct, pragmatic, and refreshingly unromantic about the realities of design, Malouin speaks less about grand narratives and more about how things actually get made, about constraints, collaboration, and the importance of dialogue.
That same clarity carries into conversation. Direct, pragmatic, and refreshingly unromantic about the realities of design, Malouin speaks less about grand narratives and more about how things actually get made, about constraints, collaboration, and the importance of dialogue.
Philippe Malouin: “Small” is a very Australian name.
Tim Small: Is it?
Philippe: Yeah.
Tim: That’s cool. I’ve never been to Australia, but I was obsessed with it as a kid. I’ve always wanted to go. I’m of that generation who saw Crocodile Dundee when they were eight and fell in love with it.
Philippe: Oh, I know exactly what you’re talking about. We’re probably the same age.
Tim: Yeah, I’m 43. How about you?
Philippe: Yeah—43.
Tim: Perfect. There you go. 1982, man.
Philippe: Yeah. Especially Crocodile Dundee 1, but more importantly Crocodile Dundee 2, when they’re in New York. There’s a great romantic moment at the end.
Tim: Absolutely. Great movie. underrated.
Philippe: Absolutely.
“I love constraints. I love a brief, but I almost never get one. People just say, ‘Do whatever you want,’ which isn’t helpful. Give me a price point, materials, a context. Then I can design something meaningful.”
Tim: So I wanted to ask you a few questions about Hem. Let’s start off with a bold one. In your opinion, what is Hem?
Philippe: Hem is one of the early companies I worked with. Maybe not the first, but definitely early in my career. This was after I’d established my studio, and at the time I was still building things up. Hem is a Swedish editor, and a younger one. Not necessarily for younger clients, but younger in spirit. They started selling online at a time when the market was changing profoundly.
Tim: Yes, and maybe because of that youth, they’ve been quite dynamic—doing things earlier than others in the design space.
Philippe: Definitely. At the time, ten years ago, it was run by very young people, under 40. That’s almost unheard of in furniture, where most CEOs are 60, in suits, making decisions purely about money. Hem felt different. Money mattered, of course, but it wasn’t the only driver. There was also a focus on building a brand, and what that meant for a younger generation. They were championing younger designers—Max Lamb, Sabine Marcelis, FormaFantasma… all people from my generation. We all graduated around the same time.
Tim: Right.
Philippe: Actually, we weren’t doing similar things at all. That’s the point. We were all selected for very different reasons. Max was doing collectible design, Sabine was working with cast plastics, I was more industrial. It’s generational, but not stylistically unified.
Tim: Do you feel a certain freedom working with Hem?
Philippe: Yes—but it’s a guided freedom. They’re open, but also very strong in their convictions.
Tim: So it’s a dialogue?
Philippe: Absolutely. Everyone brings their own ideas to the table.
Tim: How involved are you in production? Do you prefer constraints or carte blanche?
Philippe: Very involved. Svenja Diekmann was essential. She was there from the beginning and was a huge part of the process. Our collaboration was really built on that relationship. That being said, I love constraints. I love a brief, but I almost never get one. People just say, “Do whatever you want,” which isn’t helpful. Give me a price point, materials, a context. then I can design something meaningful. If you tell me: a €400 chair, in maple, made in Lithuania, that’s perfect. That’s when I can really respond.
“Everyone working with Hem is my age. Everyone designing for them, buying from them: it’s all the same generation. No other brand really captured that in the same way.”
Tim: Do you see a conflation between design and culture?
Philippe: I’m more cautious about that. “Culture” often refers to a very specific group, educated, middle-class consumers. It’s not necessarily a broader conversation. At best, it’s a marker of what’s happening within that particular context.
Tim: That’s fair. But within that context, there has been a shift—towards accessibility, towards more attainable design.
Philippe: Maybe. But the differences aren’t always that big. Prices still sit in a similar range. That said, Hem was important culturally in a generational sense. It brought together people from the same moment in time.
Tim: Last question: if you had to define Hem in one word?
Philippe: Generational.
Tim: That makes sense.
Philippe: Everyone working with Hem is my age. Everyone designing for them, buying from them: it’s all the same generation. No other brand really captured that in the same way.
