Danielle Pender: You’ve talked in the past about how, at a young age, you wanted to work with your hands. What was it about the sensation and process that stuck with you?
Sophie Dries: Funny story – I never actually planned to be an architect! As a kid, I was fascinated by chemistry and archaeology. It wasn’t obvious that I’d end up in design, but looking back, I see how those early interests still influence my work. When I’m in the workshop, working with glass or ceramics, it feels a lot like chemistry – mixing materials, applying heat and seeing how they transform. And my love for archaeology connects to my obsession with pure organic shapes. Now, when I go to Murano and see molten glass change state through fire and different processes, it still feels like magic. That’s what drives my work – experimentation, pushing materials in unexpected ways, and finding new textures and combinations. I love working with materials that weren’t necessarily meant to go together.
I love how you talk about experimentation and how this guides your process rather than starting with a final product in mind.
It always starts with visiting the workshop. I observe the craft and let curiosity guide me. I ask, “What happens if we try this?” We start with samples, sketch ideas and only then do we shape the final function or form. It’s a very organic process.
Who have you been working with recently?
I’ve been working with glassmakers in Murano, experimenting with incorporating minerals into glass. I’m obsessed with minerals – it connects back to archaeology and geology. They’re natural wonders, endlessly fascinating. Right now, I’m also experimenting with metals. Recently, I launched a series of mirrors in New York made of polished inox combined with bronze welding for the frame. I’m a bit obsessed with showing the scars, or what is supposed to be hidden or erased, and making that beautiful.
It’s really refreshing that you embrace imperfection and the unexpected.
Yes, I think perfect objects aren’t always the most beautiful. Especially in design, where so much is mass-manufactured, people crave uniqueness – pieces that carry a sense of mystery and the imprint of the person who made them. When I create residential projects, I love educating clients on why imperfection is valuable. A handmade piece has soul; it doesn’t look like it was churned out by a computer.