Artist Highlight - What's Wrong Duo

1. Your mirrors challenge the expectation of reflection as a clear reproduction of reality. What interested you in exploring reflection as an unstable or partial experience?

We see our own image constantly—through photographs, selfies and social media in general—yet none of these reflections fully align with how we perceive ourselves. The reflected self is always different from our perceived self, and perhaps neither version can be called “reality.”

Design is often driven by utility, by making life more efficient or straightforward. In that sense, there is little need to create another mirror that simply reflects. Instead, our interest lies in using the mirror as a medium to question.

The emergence of photography in the 19th century fundamentally shifted how identity and reality were represented. Once images could be captured with precision, painting no longer needed to serve as a perfect mirror of the world, and artists turned toward expression, perception, and subjectivity.

Our mirrors respond to a similar condition. Rather than reproducing reality, they explore its instability—inviting viewers to reconsider the reliability of their own image and the idea of a fixed, universal reality.

2. The work draws inspiration from the way light moves across rough water. How did this natural phenomenon inform the visual language of the mirrors?

Water was perhaps the earliest surface through which humans could encounter their own reflection. Unlike today’s mirrors or digital images, that reflection was unstable and vague. It was never fixed or entirely legible.

This idea became a reference for the visual language of the mirrors. Rather than offering a hyper-realistic, continuous reflection, our mirrors echo that same fluidity—where the image is partial, distorted, and in flux. Looking into one’s own reflection becomes a primitive, abstract experience, before precision and resolution became the norm.

3. Your process emphasises physical gestures such as bending, assembling, and reworking materials. How do these actions remain visible in the final objects?

We intentionally preserve the traces of making—fingerprints, marks, joints—so that our physical interaction with the material, and the process of making, remain visible. The final objects are the result of physical actions: partly controlled, and partly determined by the material.

While the reflection itself is blurred or destabilised, the act of making is made explicit. In a way, we obscure the face but reveal the actions of the body. What becomes visible is not a clear image of the self, but evidence of human presence and creativity.

This shift is important to us. The mirror is traditionally a tool for self-recognition, tied to appearance and surface. Our mirrors attempt to respond differently and to open up further questions—suggesting that who we are might be better understood through what we do, rather than how we appear.

4. As a collaborative duo, your work emerges from dialogue between two makers. How does this shared process influence the development of the pieces?

Our collaboration is shaped by our different backgrounds. Julien brings a foundation in classical design and historical context, while Sandra’s practice is rooted in material experimentation, particularly through ceramics.

This creates a dynamic where each project moves between conceptual thinking and hands-on exploration. Ideas are tested through making, and material discoveries often reshape the initial concept. Rather than following a fixed plan, the process evolves through dialogue, and the final pieces are results of this back-and-forth.

5. Within The Invisible Made Visible, the work reveals subtle phenomena of light and perception. What do you hope viewers begin to notice differently about reflection when encountering these mirrors?

We’re not necessarily aiming for a single, revelatory moment. Instead, we hope the work opens a question about how we perceive reflection and reality.

By stepping outside the usual expectations of a mirror—as a tool for clear, faithful reproduction—the viewer is invited to question that assumption. The reflection becomes less about accuracy and more about experience.

If anything, we hope the work opens up a small doubt: that reality might not be something stable or perfectly reflected, but something partial, shifting, and open to interpretation.