For Paul Grawitz, nothing is out of the field of possibilities. 

Paul’s portfolio is multidisciplinary at its core. It includes, but is not limited to: textiles (e.g., a climbing rope upcycled into a bag; a pair of pants; a knife pouch; other soft goods); ceramics; bookmaking, and of course, silversmithing (an incense holder; a ‘pearl holds’ spoon; a sculptural, spider-like piece; a french fries cone holder; jewelry). It’s a frenzy of ideas and conceptions and corners of a brain that have found their way earth-side. 

I connected with Paul at the end of a ‘wonderful, but very busy’ day; a day which began with a climb (as do many), and ended with a Neapolitan pizza. 

“Climbing takes a huge part of my life. When I define my week to people, it's divided into three main things: climbing; working at the studio; eating.”

CLIMBING

With childhood spent partly on the border of France and Switzerland at a chalet in the village of Vallorcine, an offbeat centre for hiking, skiing, swimming, and climbing, much of Paul’s work reflects the inspirations and influences of his environment, and of outdoor sports. 

“I was introduced to it [climbing] through family, but it was only when I moved to Vancouver that the interest was really activated. Belgium has been wonderful for climbing. Somewhere I’ve really enjoyed is Freÿr, in the South — they’re very big cliffs, really old and difficult routes. Just nature, there’s nothing around. Actually, that’s one super Belgian thing — the only business around is a friterie (french-fries shop). Crap food, but it’s delicious crap food. Lately it’s been one of the most exciting places for me to climb. Another good memory is climbing in Marseille, shirtless, on the 27th of December. I love climbing in Luxembourg and in the Alps. I’m looking forward to climbing this summer in Ailefroid. It’s the Mecca of climbing in France.”

Speaking about what inspires him, Paul told me how he tries to introduce nature and naturally occurring phenomena in the textures, colours, shapes and forms he uses.

“I’ve always been inspired by architecture, although somewhat have let go of this. I used to be into the brutalist movement – now, I definitely have a structural aspect to my work - it’s structure, and it’s organic. I like repetition and order; when climbing, I’m drawn to the textures of rocks and the colours of the sand around me… things you wouldn’t expect – or maybe you would – but it’s nice to see them exist, in a way. I really enjoy the natural environment that adapts to us humans. The nonhuman is something we can take from – and that I do – and infuse that with my idea of elegance and poise. I take out everything that's too opulent, instead focusing on aspects that have a bigger impact. That’s how I feel I’ve reached elegance in pieces.”

An adjective I’d associate with my way of doing things — living, working, sporting, making – it’s fluidity. Fluidity as something that brings movement and change, but that is also quite adaptable. It’s how I try to exist today - accepting change, but also existing as a movement that ‘goes-toward’.”

WORKING AT THE STUDIO 

“My perfect day is pretty simple. It’s a morning coffee (flat white, specifically); a few hours of climbing, something creative – not necessarily working on a project at the studio, but generally just developing new ideas… then a coffee break with friends and a good dinner. That’s it.”

Paul’s studio in Brussels is a small, vibrant space that he shares with eight other creatives. A sheer curtain separates his corner from the rest. The walls are lined with tools and tapes, and every surface is covered in offcuts, silver wire, and silver pieces. His latest addition is a large counter that, for now, serves to present jewelry to clients but that will otherwise function as a cutting table for future developments in his creative direction. Beyond his corner, costume design, shoemaking, food design, photography, and illustration take life. 

“Anything can exist within my practice. I consider myself a designer rather than an artist. Rather than visual, what I produce is more functional and usable. There’s this term in French – “l’oeuvre de l’artiste” – showing your identity as an artist through the pieces you’ve created. It’s not how I work. The biggest thing I want people to take away from my work is social, the connection; I get the most joy from getting my hands dirty and creating. I don’t believe what I create is for my own personal benefit. If someone loves it [their piece] more than I do, that’s enough for me.”  

On what inspires him, Paul told me about spontaneity, joy, and simply being awake. 

“Spontaneity is something I really enjoy in my life. Seizing opportunities allows me to be curious. Some creatives feed off their negative emotions to create. It's quite the opposite for me… even acknowledging the beauty in a plant reacting to sunlight – that makes me motivated to adapt to sunlight in that way. Inspiration for me comes from motivation, it allows me to focus.” 

When I asked him where he considers “home," Paul told me about a feeling, not a place. Brussels has been home for the past five years; before that, Vancouver, where Paul attended Emily Carr School of Art and Design. Prior to that, home was the quiet French town of Puyricard, where Paul grew up. 

“I love Brussels for its ease of access, its good life. It's very easy to live here—it's expensive—but livable, and quite dynamic socially. It's also where I've made the biggest decisions. I'd like to keep it going for a while… Once I have a plan to leave, I'll just go. 

People like us at that have the opportunity to move, we're adaptable. We build some sort of notion that we create. Home is the people that surround you and how they make you feel accepted, surrounded and loved, as much as you can offer that. I will always have Vancouver as a place that's really close to my heart, but the fact that those people are no longer around me, I feel a bit of a disconnect. Brussels is home now but the world is our oyster… 

...and I loooooove oysters.” 

✷  ✷  ✷

Paul’s work is multidisciplinary in nature, spanning multiple methods of perspective, inspiration and intention of use. His jewelry is functional and strong, yet simultaneously soft and delicate. Many of his designs reflect his intimate connection to climbing and the outdoors, subtly bringing the natural world into his work and inviting wearers, in some sense, to share in that experience.

On how he unwinds, or takes a step back from a life and work so intricately intertwined, Paul shared the following: 

“My dad asked when we were back home at Christmas, ‘If you had a second life, what would you do?’... After thinking about it for a bit, I realized that I’m doing something I’d want to do everyday, in any life. To be honest, I feel like I’m on holiday most of the time; I choose when I work. Everything is with passion, there are no constraints. 

Work is so intertwined with existing. You never, ever stop working as a creative, and you work a lot more than acknowledged. The idea of work is so specific. The idea of work is so particular framed in our capitalist society. For me, work is what I exist for. It can be extremely tiring. But, we all grow old, we get tired, we die.” 

EATING

I had the good fortune of spending part of December with Paul and his family for Christmas last year. What would become a deliciously full week spent in the French-Swiss alps and a dance delicately spent alternating between skiing, hiking, drinking, laughing and card-playing, was prefixed by Christmas Eve dinner at his family home in Puyricard. 

On the evening of the twenty-fourth (though in actuality his full day), Paul prepared us a clioche as an amuse-bouche – pink beetroot cream and salty anchovies. We had thick green leeks that were cooked and baked with a comté cream, and homemade smoked butternut squash with a savoury tagliatelle vongole. To drink, a jammy Austrian red: Rosé Petrović. 

I asked Paul how he’d spend his last day in Brussels. 

“I’d start off going to some of the cafes I appreciate and that are held by close friends; organize a feast and a huge, huge dinner in a friend’s backyard. I’d go for drinks and to public radios - kiosk radio, or radio bar… but the most important part would be a big dinner with everyone close to me – we’d have a barbecue, use the pizza oven, share a mix of well-chosen seafood, carefully selected meats, tons of barbecued veg… easy-going but good, complex, comforting foods. 

Of course, we’d have some magnums of expensive wine. 

We would have the kinds of wines they hide in the cellars of bars that I’ve had the luxury of tasting – something kind of coucou and sparkling. 

Something we could all savour together.” 



This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Words: Liliana Orlikow | Co-Founder, The Ör