You both attended CalArts and pursued the same Art course. Could you each describe your experiences there?

AR: CalArts is known for its level of critical inquiry and dialogue, digging into the ways a work is knitted into different conceptual, historical, political, social, and material histories. It’s a place of a lot of conversation and reflection, with an emphatic openness toward realizing concepts. In my own practice, this openness allowed me to expand my work into sculpture and video-making. I’m grateful for the experience because of the relationships that came from it. I got to work with faculty that I respect and admire, and I made relationships with peers that are still important to me.

SN: I moved back to California to attend. Art school was a cultural shift, coming from my previous training in architecture. They are dramatically different in approach. I was moved by the radical honesty and deep conversations I was having on campus. Those experiences with my peers really were the highlight for me.

Could you tell me about the genesis of groupsports and what inspired its creation?

‍AR: We met at grad school and were both making work that had to do with the object and the body interacting. We had a lot of similar references of work we were interested in: Lygia Clark, Simone Forti, Noguchi’s playgrounds, therapy objects, and Arakawa & Gins. We both wanted to make work that is necessarily experienced by touch and that is intended to be in a lived space.

‍SN: The name—groupsports—comes from an interest in structures, physical or otherwise, that facilitate play. We think of play as a vehicle for relationships, for building connections between ourselves, our community, and our environment. At the time, we were talking about my experience in soccer and the way playing in a team can shift one’s body awareness from a local register to a collective one. We’re curious about the way these structures of play expand modes of communication and the way that ability intersects with one’s own proprioception and interoception.

groupsports

Annie Render and SJ Naim form the creative duo behind groupsports, a Los Angeles-based design studio specializing in playful, tactile objects for interior spaces. The two initially crossed paths at CalArts and discovered a shared admiration for the works of Lygia Clark, Isamu Noguchi, and Arakawa & Gins. Shortly after, they decided to establish their own practice, with circular material practices as a central part of their work.

Within their Swamp Collection lies the ‘Saltgrass Weighted Cushion’ a piece crafted to invite physical engagement. It is made from materials salvaged from post-industrial waste streams in LA and is utterly soothing to the soul.

This amazing sensory experience is currently Sold Out! But I’m anticipating more genius coming soon...

Can you share your childhood backgrounds? What are some of your earliest memories?

AR: I grew up in northern Kentucky, in a small town just across the Ohio River from Cincinnati. I could see the river from my bedroom window, and when I couldn’t sleep at night, I’d sing songs to it. My Dad and Grandpa built my brother and me a treehouse at the edge of the woods. It had a tire swing, and because it was perched on a hill, you’d fly out over the trees really high. My Mom taught me how to swim as soon as I could walk, and I loved being in the water with her.

The first time I remember getting in trouble was when I colored on the back of an armchair with my macaroni and cheese-colored crayon. I thought it would look better orange, and I stand by that assessment today.

SN: I grew up in the Bay Area, in San Mateo County. We moved houses a few times, but we consistently lived close to the water. I’m the middle child between two brothers; we spent a lot of time laughing together. We often traveled back to my parents’ hometowns—Beirut and Damascus. I would walk around the city with my cousins in Damascus, and we’d buy the most vibrantly colored candy and stickers from the local shops. We’d also drive to Sweida, a mountainous region, to visit my grandparents. Those trips were formative. I loved picking apricots, cherries, and roses from their garden and stacking the colorful pillows and cushions in the khalwa, their meditation room.

“While I grew up speaking Arabic, moving there was a different kind of immersion; the language is expressed through the body. This kind of non-verbal communication inspired me.”

Did your interest in art and design develop during your teenage years? What were some of your sources of inspiration during that period?

AR: I was primarily drawing and painting then. And also writing a lot. I was interested in book-making. There was a multi-floor used book store in downtown Cincinnati that I’d go to and I’d draw and collage into old books that I found there. I was also, and still am, really motivated by color. I loved thrifting and was doing a lot of color and pattern mixing in my outfits. I was going to basement punk shows and was in a short-lived band with my best friend.

SN: We moved as a family to Beirut when I was 15. It was a big shift that exposed me to city life, a strong sense of community, and the Mediterranean. I immediately felt at home. I loved it. While I grew up speaking Arabic, moving there was a different kind of immersion; the language is expressed through the body. This kind of non-verbal communication inspired me.

I made paintings and was also taking photos and collecting music. I had a camera and mp3 player on me all the time. While playing soccer, I was equally inspired by non-verbal communication in soccer on the field. The need to convey readiness for a pass or confidence in receiving the ball echoes the expressive elements of body language. When playing, I would use a soft focus to see more broadly, in a peripheral way, which I think about a lot. Annie and I apply this in our studio practice—it involves releasing a specific focus, not fixating on one spot, as an approach to play.

You both attended CalArts and pursued the same Art course. Could you each describe your experiences there?

AR: CalArts is known for its level of critical inquiry and dialogue, digging into the ways a work is knitted into different conceptual, historical, political, social, and material histories. It’s a place of a lot of conversation and reflection, with an emphatic openness toward realizing concepts. In my own practice, this openness allowed me to expand my work into sculpture and video-making. I’m grateful for the experience because of the relationships that came from it. I got to work with faculty that I respect and admire, and I made relationships with peers that are still important to me.

SN: I moved back to California to attend. Art school was a cultural shift, coming from my previous training in architecture. They are dramatically different in approach. I was moved by the radical honesty and deep conversations I was having on campus. Those experiences with my peers really were the highlight for me.

Could you tell me about the genesis of groupsports and what inspired its creation?

‍AR: We met at grad school and were both making work that had to do with the object and the body interacting. We had a lot of similar references of work we were interested in: Lygia Clark, Simone Forti, Noguchi’s playgrounds, therapy objects, and Arakawa & Gins. We both wanted to make work that is necessarily experienced by touch and that is intended to be in a lived space.

‍SN: The name—groupsports—comes from an interest in structures, physical or otherwise, that facilitate play. We think of play as a vehicle for relationships, for building connections between ourselves, our community, and our environment. At the time, we were talking about my experience in soccer and the way playing in a team can shift one’s body awareness from a local register to a collective one. We’re curious about the way these structures of play expand modes of communication and the way that ability intersects with one’s own proprioception and interoception.

What are the fundamental principles and values that shape groupsports' design philosophy, especially in relation to sustainability and circular practices?

AR: We approach the built environment through the lens of ecology. As object-makers, this means that we’re concerned with relationships between kin, and the way our environment and its objects impact those relationships. In that sense, groupsports aims for a softer built environment—one that's adaptive, responsive, and reciprocal. Approaching things through an ecological lens also implies recognizing the interconnectedness of the natural world with the built environment. As such, cultivating circular material practices is a central part of our work.

SN: And it turns out that cultivating these material practices is also a relational activity. We’ve been reaching out to manufacturers in LA to intercept post-industrial waste streams. These are new materials that would otherwise end up as landfill. The practice of knitting yourself into existing ecosystems of material flows is impossible to do without building community.

How has the concept of “playing, together” influenced the collaborative nature of your work and the experiences you aim to evoke with your creations?

AR: SJ mentioned “soft focus” earlier, additionally in trying to conceptualize our workflow, we kick around two other related schema: passing the ball and dynamic tension. Passing the ball is about resisting the urge to have an idea solidify—to keep it malleable and in play as long as possible. Dynamic tension is about honoring the strength that opposing approaches can have in the longevity of a project. Different directional forces, in parallel to one another, can give a project lift-off. We aim to create non-prescriptive experiences with our work, and see them as invitations. The beauty of playing is that everyone does it differently. There is a lot to admire and learn from each person’s approach.‍

Could you provide more details about the origin of your Swamp Collection and deliberate sustainable material choices, including the utilization of deadstock and post-manufacturing “waste” materials?

SN: What is now a main thoroughfare for us in Los Angeles, La Cienega Blvd, was historically the site of a 10-mile long wetland stretching from Inglewood to Hollywood. La ciénega translates to “swamp” in Spanish. Despite its critical role in ecodiversity and water management, wetlands are an often-maligned environment. We were curious about counter-narratives to this space. If ecosystems are teachers, what does the swamp help us understand about the role of our homes? For us, the collection became a container to reflect on cycles of recovery in our production practices, our homes, and our environments.

AR: With the filtration of wetlands in mind, our approach to the collection was to digest the function of swamp ecology into our practice. This led us to start partnering with local manufacturers. The materials we gathered became the starting point for designing the collection. For instance, we sourced latex and wool from a mattress factory, which came at odd cuts—thin and long. Working with those constraints, we repurposed these odd shapes. Simultaneously, we researched species that live in wetlands, focusing on a plant called saltgrass, known for thriving in saturated soils due to its sponge-like tissues. The final object is composed of a set of latex-core “blades” that you can intertwine yourself among. A pillow version of a weighted blanket, it offers a grounding and playful presence for moments of sensory saturation.

Is it accurate to say that many of your ideas are designed to serve a purpose within a space while also encouraging people to interact with them?

AR: Yes, I think so. I’ll answer indirectly by saying that we’re interested in the power of curious interruptions. In our garage studio in Altadena, we would often be working and then look up and see a deer eating from the Elm tree, or a bobcat setting up for a nap in the live oak. It was a moment of expansion beyond our current train of thought. A kind of magic, really! For our work, we aim to make objects that bring something unexpected. Maybe it's the way it interacts with light, or how it frames your space. Maybe it's finding a new way of sitting or moving with the object. We hope this intervention in space brings a moment of play, or curiosity, or interaction.‍

You mentioned that ecological and spiritual histories have influenced your work. Could you expand on this?

AR: These somatic and spatial structures offered in these bodies of knowledge are a constant source of inspiration for us. We apply them liberally in our work. In the swamp collection, the structure of mud and the function of peat moss had us thinking about the concept of saturation. Saturation is a phase change that creates the possibility of the ecosystem, but it's also a relational dynamic and somatic dynamic.

SN: And these phase changes, for us, are inherently spiritual! In this collection, we were thinking with the Death card in tarot; Inana, the Mesopotamian goddess of wetlands; the ecology of peat moss; vernacular architecture from the marshes of Southern Iraq and the bogs of Iceland; the history of the Great Dismal Swamp; and the history of the LA basin to inform how we understand the swamp as a teacher.

‍AR: We could talk forever about this. In fact, we’re working on a piece of writing that weaves all these histories together. Stay tuned!

Are there any upcoming collections or projects on the horizon that you're particularly enthusiastic about?

SN: We’re currently learning a building technique for construction that would enable us to expand our work to include outdoor furniture and play structures. It's a method called earthbag construction, primarily composed of local sediment organized in long sandbags that are stacked vertically onto themselves. The process is somewhat like creating a really large pinch coil pot, resulting in organic shapes. It’s also climate resilient. This building method is really affordable and technically accessible but can be quite labor-intensive. Construction efforts often involve the help of the community. We’re excited about that process and plan on building public structures through community workshops.

Lastly, could you share insights about your previous residency in Altadena and your new home/studio space in Temple City?

SN: We ended up in a live-work space by chance. Partially because we were having a hard time finding studio space in LA, and partially because the opportunity to rent out a geodesic dome showed up on Craigslist. So we moved in together to this wild house at the edge of the Angeles National Forest within the first year of starting groupsports and six months before we started dating, lol. The dome was really foundational and inspirational to thinking about non-traditional approaches to space. Previously we had external studios and we were craving for more balance in our workday. Particularly, we love having a kitchen to cook our meals. We find that cooking lunch in the middle of the day is really a part of our creative process.

AR: We lived at the dome, and at our new spot with housemates, and we love having the built-in community. This is our third year with our current housemates, also a couple who work collaboratively together, and it's a gift to share space with them. We moved this year all together to our current spot in Temple City. It's a very different space. It has an interior courtyard, tons of built-ins, lots of wood paneling. Its cumulative effect is a more introspective space. The garage studio is larger and functions more like a traditional space with an actual door and actual window. And there’s a pool!

When are you hosting a pool party?

SN: Annie’s a brave soul, she’s been enjoying the winter plunge which I know is very invigorating, as you have also mentioned! But I’m a product of the Mediterranean sea, so I need warm water and sun. How about summer 2024?!