Q&A with Fien Muller and Hannes Van Severen on their new tile collection

1. What inspired your new tile collection for Blēo? Could you share the creative and conceptual starting points that shaped the design?

The starting point was colour — not just as a visual element, but as something emotional and atmospheric. We were curious about how colour behaves on a surface with texture and depth, especially in changing light. Zellige tiles, with their irregular shape and natural glaze variation, felt like the perfect material to explore that. We’ve always been drawn to colour as a kind of emotional language, and the idea of placing our own palette into a material with such rich tradition was very exciting. We’ve also always loved high-gloss — it has this way of catching the light that makes everything feel a bit more alive. You walk past and suddenly the colour shifts, like it’s moving with you. It reflects, it bounces, it surprises you. That little bit of unpredictability keeps things interesting — it makes the surface feel less polished in a good way, giving each tile its own life and movement.

2. Your practice often blurs the boundaries between art and design. How does this tile collection reflect or evolve that ongoing dialogue?

We think of tiles as part of a system — they’re modular, repeatable, but never quite identical. Each tile in this collection holds its own presence. That tension between unity and variation is something we explore in much of our work, whether it’s furniture or spatial design. There’s also something sculptural in the way tiles interact with architecture. They’re functional, yes, but they can also create rhythm, depth, and emotion. That’s very close to how we think about form in general — as something that can carry both purpose and poetry.

3. Tiles are often viewed as purely functional elements. What was your approach to reimagining them as expressive and sculptural design objects?

It wasn’t so much about reimagining — more about revealing what’s already there. Zellige tiles are expressive by nature. No two are the same, and their surface carries a kind of quiet unpredictability. We leaned into that, letting the material speak for itself. The colour becomes more alive because of the imperfections. The irregularities are what give them soul. You don’t need to add anything — just observe how light moves across them, how a tone shifts slightly tile to tile. It’s very human. And that’s where the beauty lies.

4. Were there particular materials, colours, or techniques that defined the project? How did these choices influence the final outcome?

Yes, the traditional Moroccan technique was at the heart of it. These tiles are hand-cut and glazed by artisans who’ve worked this way for generations. It was important for us to respect that process. You simply can’t replicate this kind of depth or tactility with industrial production. As for the colours, we developed them with great care. They’re grounded in our own palette — strong, but not loud. Deliberate, but still intuitive. We wanted tones that feel timeless, colours that don’t demand attention but reward it. The kind you might walk past, then turn back to look at again.

5. How do you imagine these tiles being used? Are they designed for specific spaces, or do you see them as open to interpretation?

We imagine them being used in all kinds of ways — some expected, some not. They work beautifully in kitchens, bathrooms, and also public interiors, but we also love the idea of them in more unexpected contexts. Maybe just a few tiles used to define a moment in a room. Perhaps an outdoor shower, where the high-gloss tiles catch the light. A tiled bench. Stripes of colour running through walls. Use them to create patterns — squares like a chessboard on the floor, linear compositions on the wall, almost like wallpaper made from tiles. Or place them with subtlety — framing a window or a doorway with quiet precision. They’re adaptable by nature — modular, flexible, open to play. There’s no one way to use them, and that’s part of the point. We wanted to create something that invites you to compose, to explore, to make it your own.