Hudson, New York, jessegroom.com
Sometimes, the fastest way to a design editors’ heart is to invent your own process — or, in the case of RISD grad Jesse Groom, to make decorative a process that for years has remained hidden. For his Cicatrix series, Groom takes the molten bead vernacular of welding and makes it his whole thing — entire chairs, lamps, and credenzas, whose weak aluminum frames are made structural and strong by covering them with hundreds of aluminum filler rods, hot-gunned into a crinkly, foundational skin. “I aim to design for the user, but also for the things themselves, trying to interpret their wishes and potential,” Groom has said, and we ask: If you were an object, wouldn’t you like to look as good as the ones on this page?

What is American design to you, and what excites you about it?

American design at its best, in my opinion, is all about a common phrase: “fuck around and find out.” Is there anything more American than this? I don’t think so, and I think it’s at the core of all worthwhile American Design and in fact all American arts/creativity. Perhaps even to our own detriment sometimes (or because of it), Americans seem to pursue their work with a bravery and audacity that can only be harnessed in a place as wealthy yet uneducated and informal as our country. We have what often seems like a distaste for learning a way — or the way — to do things, and just want to do it anyway, with no solid foundation in history or instruction. I can go on and on about this, and I really believe it is both a good thing and a bad thing, but as of now, I’m using it as a good thing and pursuing my own work with this ethos, being aware of my predecessors but not defined by them. American design and the arts will continue to be exciting because its main purpose is to question the present moment and take another step forward.

What are your plans and highlights for the upcoming year?

This next year my plan is to immerse myself in the community of upstate New York, which is new for me. It’s really bucolic. There is so much space and time here, in a way I never experienced in the city growing up. I feel at ease in following rabbit holes and not impatient like I used to be with getting sidetracked. There are trees and hikes, but also galleries and sexy little restaurants, the combination of which all gives me the mental ecosystem I need to feel the best and work the best. I’m about to get my studio hooked up to a heater which means I will now be able to create new things throughout the whole year! And I’ve just nearly finished the renovation on the small property where I’m currently located (although in reality, it will likely never end). I want to open new doors, so to speak, as well, dabble in scales other than furniture. I can sense that projects in clothing, jewelry, and world-making/full spaces both interior and exterior are on the horizon. Just feeling very open and hope to stay that way. Hit me up!

What inspires or informs your work in general? 

Aw, there’s too much! Right now, imperfections — or rather any thing, or act, that subverts a sort of expectation, especially on a societal level — is especially inspiring to me. For instance, although I’m well aware of the issues posed by them, I can’t help but be moved when I’m in the city and there’s like 50 people riding bikes or motorcycles together, and they’re just taking over the streets for a second, wreaking havoc on everyone’s senses. And then they’re gone. The things that these kids do are extremely impressive, and they don’t do it for anything — there’s no particular outcome or money or sponsorship or anything like that — just because its awesome and fun to do with their friends.

I know I’m supposed to answer this question with a visual queue, or design movement or artist that I feel drawn to emulate in my own work, but the truth is I think the objects I make are more about the act of creation and therefore the processing of growing and being, more than a specific thing. I guess I’m more into the process than the result… at least for now.