Annotations cc: Gonzalez Haase AAS

Judith Haase and Pierre Jorge Gonzalez, following a collaboration in New York, founded the design practice Gonzalez Haase AAS, based in Berlin. Beginning with art galleries and retail projects, their work soon expanded internationally, engaging a range of scales through a collaborative, interdisciplinary approach. Attentive to the existing, they have developed a nuanced architectural identity that responds to context, history, and function. Their practice explores material and spatial intelligence that can define a room, uncovering its intrinsic character in harmony with programmatic requirements.

AM: I was wondering how you perceive your projects, within the broader context of Berlin—a city that can be skeptical toward anything overly refined or polished. Was this tension something present in the background of your design thinking, or something you consciously engaged with?

JH: We arrived in Berlin in 1999. At the time, there was a major influx of artists moving to the city, followed by galleries, and gallery owners. Affordable space made it possible for us and many others to start businesses, open studios, and live while paying rent. Our early work focused on gallery spaces, designed holistically: spatial layouts, lighting, furniture, reception desks, and storage. We developed an approach born of necessity—working inexpensively but intelligently. We exposed materials usually hidden, made construction legible, and developed precise details.

AM: How does this approach—or your engagement with such tensions—manifest in your latest project, the interior design for Aeyde?

JH: Aeyde functions as an office, a seasonally changing showroom, and a shoe development studio. We knew the space intimately—its history, construction, and significance as a GDR-era landmark—because our office was located in the same building. The program required a neutral backdrop for design. This informed our lighting concept: general, accurate light that renders color faithfully. Material choices were discussed in depth. We believe materials should carry color inherently. The cast concrete reception desk responds to the scale of the space. Its form was shaped by circulation, natural light, and visibility rather than aesthetics.

AM: You mentioned that your material choices and overall design language emerged naturally due to economic constraints. Could you elaborate, perhaps with reference to this project or others, and describe the material strategies you’ve explored?

PJG: Historically, before electricity, candles were the main source of light. In wealthy houses, gold was applied to surfaces because it reflected light and amplified brightness. The economy often dictates what is possible. Our approach integrates materials that require minimal processing, aiming to minimize labor and complexity. We assemble rather than build. Materials are selected not only for function but also for their ability to act as reflectors, light diffusers, heat absorbers, or thermal reflectors. Often we designed gallery spaces without a proper budget. What we did was clean the space, open it as much as possible, and then introduce light as an additional layer. Light became the first and most important material—it structured the space. At that time, we focused on revealing the existing architecture: walls, windows, ceilings, floors. Lighting tied these elements together, creating a unifying layer across the space.

AM: This restraint seems to continue throughout your work. In gallery spaces especially, architecture allows art to exist without overpowering it. Is this approach to restraint something you consciously carried beyond galleries into other projects?

PJG: Many people call our work minimal, but I prefer the term reduced. It is a well-designed restraint. Like an art space, our architecture accommodates what needs to be exhibited, without dominating it. That doesn’t mean the space is neutral. Spaces need personality. Owners choose artists; artists bring their own language. Architecture must respond to that. When working for brands, they need to recognize themselves in the space. Even if clients choose us because of our style, we still adapt to the brand’s identity.

AM: As a material, light is relational. It gains meaning only through interaction. The conditions that allow light to appear, disappear, reflect, or dissolve are integral to the design process. Light is impossible to fully grasp, and it’s constantly changing. How does that affect your approach?

JH: We begin by analyzing the space: openings, sources of natural light, relationships between rooms, and functions. Once we strip away layers and reveal the existing architecture, lighting becomes a way to highlight what is already there. Light works with the architecture, not against it. Ideally, you don’t notice the light, you notice the space. We work extensively with plans. Lighting emerges from the program.

AM: Do you ever experiment beyond that?

PJG: Experimentation often arises from geography. Natural light in Lisbon is completely different from Berlin. For Tem-plate in Lisbon, we explored a different lighting approach. We lit the entire space rather than individual objects, removing the idea of the sacralized object. The space had one glass facade that extended 30 meters inward. Natural light penetrated deeply from one side. We designed artificial lighting that did the opposite—denser at the back, gradually dispersing toward the window. During the day, the balance worked perfectly. At night, the effect shifted—but the principle held. This created a very even light, affecting how skin, eyes, and perception respond.

AM: In your work there are occasional instances of colour. Colour can act as a signifier, carrying meaning, directing attention, and communicating intention. The monochrome, in particular, operates as a material condition in itself. It is contingent, shaped by context and proximity.

PJG: Exactly. The 032C space in Seoul, half gallery and half store, is a perfect square. Two facades are transparent and open onto the gallery; the closed corners house the store, which is entirely red. The colour appears poured and layered, without sharp definition. From afar the contrast is striking; from within, the perception of colour dissolves.

AM: Looking back at your work collectively, what do you feel it communicates about your practice? As an overarching intention, an idea that manifests differently but remains consistent.

PJG: We are aware that interiors do not last forever. This awareness led us to minimize construction. This approach avoids waste, not just economically, but materially and energetically. This thinking predated the term sustainability, but aligns with it naturally. Material defines touch, sight, and spatial experience. We also develop objects continuously, sometimes for projects, sometimes independently.

AM: How does your practice continue to engage with objects and scale, and how has it evolved to navigate these different dimensions?

JH: From next year, a dedicated practice, developed with a partner, will bring visibility to our event-based projects. Our backgrounds differ significantly. Pierre Jorge was trained as a scenographer in Paris, while I am German and educated as an architect. We met in New York while working for Robert Wilson, whose practice is profoundly shaped by the use of light. That encounter marked the beginning of our collaboration. Our work has always been interdisciplinary, across architecture, interiors, stage sets for contemporary dance and temporary events, as well as objects.

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Text: Anoe Melliou
Photography of Aeyde, Berlin, by Clemens Poloczek.
Photography of Tem-plate, Lisbon, by Thomas Meyer.
Photography of 032C, Seoul, by Yongjoon Choi.