08.26.2025
An Instinctive Approach to Form and Material: A Conversation with Artist Hélène König
Tête-à-tête is a series where we invite extraordinary and inspiring creatives for an intimate conversation. We peek behind the curtains of their studios and delve into their creative process to uncover the stories that shape their art.
Guided by an instinctive approach to form and material, French-born artist Hélène König creates organic, sculptural works that capture nature’s quiet beauty.
With roots in fashion design, Hélène has evolved her practice into a compelling body of visual art. Her work is deeply personal — shaped by a lifelong search for inner calm and emotional balance. Through soft textures, organic forms, and meditative repetition, her pieces feel grounding and contemplative, blurring the line between object and artwork and offering quiet refuge in a relentless world.
Committed to minimal environmental impact, Hélène draws inspiration from nature, creating works that reflect her inner landscape while celebrating its subtle beauty and imperfection.
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You describe your work as sitting between sculpture and everyday objects. How do you find that balance when creating?
Creating peaceful spaces has always been at the heart of my practice. I began with a desire to make pieces for my own home as a way to infuse harmony into my personal space and retreat from the pressures of daily life. As I kept experimenting, the process slowly evolved into a vocation where I purposely mix art, furniture and everyday objects. I now approach each piece with the intention of helping others create their own space for mental respite — something grounding, purposeful, and soothing.
Nature and the idea of transformation seem central to your pieces. What feelings or ideas do you find yourself returning to often?
The organic beauty of nature is central to my practice, as is the reflection on the polarities that define the world we live in. But at its core, it’s intimate and meditative. Making art is a form of refuge, a place I return to for rest and quietude. I build slowly, layer by layer, allowing form to emerge in its own time. Presence, patience, and repetition are integral. There’s no rush... only a commitment to depth and the quiet unfolding of the process.
Can you share a glimpse into a typical day in your studio — or is every day different?
My studio days tend to follow creative rhythms rather than a fixed routine. Some weeks I fully immerse myself in artworks; others I focus on the development of a new furniture piece. Often I’ll flow between projects in a single day, letting instinct take over. I try to give myself the freedom to follow where the energy is. It’s indulgent at times, but also necessary for maintaining a sense of joy and authenticity in the process.
"Making art is a form of refuge, a place I return to for rest and quietude. I build slowly, layer by layer, allowing form to emerge in its own time. Presence, patience, and repetition are integral. There’s no rush... only a commitment to depth and the quiet unfolding of the process."
Your ceramics feel both raw and refined. How do materials and texture shape your process?
Texture is central to everything I make. I want my pieces to feel raw, yet soft. Grounded but elevated. Earlier this year, I realised I had been smoothing everything too much in an attempt to create purity, and it started to feel off. I eventually understood I was missing the rawness — the unevenness and subtle imperfections that make a piece feel alive. I had to reassess my entire process to ensure I don’t miss that balance between refinement and irregularity, which is where I find the most beauty.
Has your background in fashion influenced the way you now approach your work?
Absolutely. Fashion taught me a lot, especially about pace and sustainability. Working in that world opened my eyes to the relentless pressure for speed, productivity, and constant output — often at the expense of meaning and care. My art practice is a direct rebellion against that. It’s slow, deliberate, rooted in time and patience. I’ve also carried through a commitment to sustainability, repurposing materials and staying conscious of how and why I create.
Do you start with a clear idea, or do your pieces tend to evolve as you go?
Both. Some ideas come through clearly and translate quite effortlessly. But often, the process is much more winding, full of surprises that force me to shift and reassess. I’m now better at navigating the feeling of being lost in art, and I’ve learned to welcome both paths — trusting that each piece will find its form in its own way.
What do you hope people feel when they live with one of your works?
A sense of peace... the same kind I experience when creating them. I hope my pieces offer a quiet moment of stillness or a subtle reminder to slow down and reconnect.
‘Tigmi’ means home in Berber — what does home mean to you?
To me, home is balance. It’s a space to return to, to re-center, and to feel safe. It holds the quiet rituals that ground me. It is a place of calm in a world that often moves too fast.
And lastly, what’s inspiring you right now — a place, a person, a moment, a song?
I’m constantly inspired by the waves of personal evolution and how they mirror what’s happening in the world at large. My next body of work, Duality, echoes the introspection I’ve moved through this past year. In the same way, my first collection, Surrender, reflected the emotional landscape I was navigating at the time. Each series becomes a timestamp of a personal and collective response to a specific moment in time.
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