Key Points
- Design by conditions: adjusts pH, warmth and nutrients; success depends most on the initial strain.
- Timed extraction: films are harvested when dead cells outnumber living, typically after 2–4 months.
- Material compatibility: favours cotton, wool, graphite; avoids metals/synthetics that suffocate cultures.
- Post-growth stability: manual wash + dehydration; accepts occasional fungal colonisation as a feature.
- Scale reality: growth can halt for months; argues markets should respect biological rhythms and rarity.
Full interview with Iri Berkleid
1. Your work grows from symbiotic cultures. What parameters: pH, temperature, nutrient composition, most influence the material outcome of your cellulose skins?
My cultures need warmth, nutrients, and protection from infectious organisms or parasites. I monitor the pH to assess the culture’s stage and whether it needs more sugar to ferment. But ultimately, what determines success is not just environmental factors, it's the constitutive qualities of the initial strain of microorganisms. That strain is everything.
2. In “Extractions”, you ritualise the separation of microbial matter from its environment. What were the material considerations in deciding when and how to extract these films?
The culture produces a biofilm of cellulose at the surface to protect itself. As the microorganisms multiply and ferment, the film thickens. But at the end of this cycle, which can take between 2 to 4 months, the number of dead cells overtakes the living, disrupting the equilibrium. That’s the moment I extract it: on the verge of decay, when it can no longer defend itself.
3. “Love Me Tender” integrates pigment, lace, and sequins during bacterial growth. How do you evaluate the compatibility of these additives with the microbial metabolism?
Compatibility hinges on the resistance of the additives to the microbial environment. Some, like cotton, wool, or graphite powder, are resistant to acidic degradation. Others, such as wood or minerals, are partially eroded. I avoid metallic or synthetic elements, as they suffocate the culture. Everything added must either resist digestion or be non-toxic.
4. What guides your selection of bacterial and yeast strains? Are you working with lab-grade isolates, wild strains, or co-evolved cultures?
My strains are personal - often gifted by friends or local producers of fermented drinks. Though I sometimes introduce external strains to interbreed and strengthen the culture, most of my material comes from the original strain I started with six years ago. It’s a filial matrix, connecting all the artworks through time.
5. Stabilising a living skin into a sculptural or textile form is a delicate process. Could you outline the methods you use to preserve material integrity post-growth?
Once extracted and washed, the film goes through dehydration. I do a deep manual wash to eliminate dormant organisms - unlike designers who might use industrial processes like machine washing. Interestingly, this stage can invite fungi colonisation, which I sometimes work with. Once dry, the biological life is no longer active.
6. Your installations often reference corporeality and the abject. What material properties: translucency, porosity, tactility - do you prioritise to evoke these sensorial themes?
It’s the porous, dripping formlessness that gives the works a witty yet unsettling presence. At human scale, the works provoke embodied encounters, evoking sweat, smell, and our discomfort with skin as boundary. These metabolic artworks challenge the illusion of the self as a sealed system.
7. How do you navigate the sourcing of inputs like organic sugar, tea, or bio-compatible pigments, given their influence on the metabolic and aesthetic output?
This is evolving. In Paris, I relied on industrial ingredients, making choices like anyone feeding themselves in a city. In the future, I want to explore autogenerative systems, where nutrients are grown nearby, or work in controlled, lab-like environments to test alternative nutrient cycles.
8. With bacterial cellulose being both unpredictable and slow to grow, have you encountered limitations in scaling your processes or reproducing results across geographies or climates?
Absolutely. For instance, my cultures haven’t grown for six months, delaying an exhibition. It’s frustrating, but it also reframes value through rarity. Rather than adjusting to industrial time, I think the art market should adapt to biological rhythms, embracing risk and unpredictability.
9. Given the specificity of your material requirements, what kind of sourcing intelligence or material matchmaking tool would meaningfully support your practice?
I’d benefit from a platform that connects me to:
- Fermented drinks producers (for strains and waste cellulose)
- Creative biolabs (to collect culture data)
- Studios in ceramics, glass, or food-processing (to make containers or find acid-resistant seals)
- And a shared growing space with other biodesigners
10. The biosourced sublime you cultivate often resists commodification. Yet material traceability and reproducibility are vital for wider application. How do you imagine this tension might be resolved in future ecological design systems?
We need localised production technologies, not globalised factories. I’m drawn to the idea of teaching people how to grow their own materials, supported by affordable tools. But that also means shifting our tastes - away from standardised perfection and toward valuing the process itself.
