Mycelium : Grown, not Made

Over the last few years, mycelium has conquered the scene of biobased materials all over the world. It became one of the strongest candidates to replace fossil-based products across various sectors. But, what is exactly mycelium and how did I create a whole design practice around it?

The root-system of mushroom, the underground vegetative part of what we commonly call “fungi” is actually mycelium. A filament-like network growing in the soil and breaking down dead matter of the forest. By consuming and feeding on the wood-like material, it is actually one of the main agents responsible for the circularity of our ecosystems.

It has been discovered that certain species can grow extremely fast and create a dense network of fibers by feeding on organic materials, such as wood. When exposed to the proper conditions and substrate ( the food of mycelium), it’s possible to control its growth and shape it into moulds. By giving it the right temperature and moisture, we can grow within a week a dense mesh of intertwined microscopic filaments which is becoming denser and denser every day.

The result? A sponge-like with foamy material that can take any shape or form with the use of a mould. As mycelium is highly composed of water when growing, it is dried to freeze the desired shape and stop the growth, resulting in the loss of more than 80% of its weight and thus becoming extremely light and similar to styrofoam.

I never really planned to become a material researcher. I was trained as a designer, someone who draws objects, not someone who cultivates them. But the first time I saw mycelium grow into form, I realised design could take many aspects and that using an already perfected organism for circularity, it was making my practice much more sustainable intrinsically. ​​I slowly started to look at my role differently.

Instead of forcing materials to obey a sketch, I began collaborating with them. Mycelium doesn’t like to be rushed, it grows at its own pace. That rhythm forced me to slow down and observe. It changed the way I design.

The first time I encountered and worked with mycelium, I thought it would be a short project. An exploration between curiosity and material research. But it ended up defining my entire practice.

In 2020, I officially opened my design firm, Studio Cartier, and was actively working for the research and development of potential applications for mycelium materials. My first project was the design of a modular acoustic system for a Dutch Horticulture farm. We used the flower-clippings from the production line to grow mycelium blocks that were stacked to create a wall to insulate the noisy machinery from the workers. The permanent installation was 14 meters long and 3 meters high and ended-up reducing by 8 dB the working environment.

This is where I realized the potential of such a bio-technology. It enables us to transform organic waste-streams into valuable and impactful solutions both for humans but also for nature as it creates 100% biodegradable products.

In every piece, there’s a bit of lab work, a bit of craftsmanship, and a bit of intuition. Sometimes I’m wearing gloves and measuring humidity; other times, I’m just standing there, watching nature do the job better than I ever could.

What fascinates me the most about mycelium is how it constantly shifts the boundary between art, design, and science. Each project starts like an experiment and often ends like a sculpture. My studio became a playground for that intersection; part laboratory, part workshop, part gallery.

That’s how the Fungal Art Series was born.

What started as material tests slowly turned into a collection of grown artworks. Each panel is unique, shaped by subtle variations of humidity, light, or time. I never know exactly how it will look and that unpredictability became part of the process. Instead of aiming for perfection, I started to embrace irregularity as beauty. These pieces became a way to reveal the hidden beauty of nature, not by imitating it, but by collaborating with it.

Over the past three years, this series evolved into something more than objects on a wall. They became functional as their acoustic property transformed into functional Art. Each piece carries a story about waste transformed into texture, growth turned into design. It’s my way of showing that nature doesn’t need to be “engineered” to be functional. It already is.

From these artistic beginnings, my work started to shift toward more functional applications. One of the most symbolic has been the mycelium surfboard project. It was born from the idea that we could literally ride on a living material. As a great replacement for styrofoam ( the most used material to make the core of a surfboard) it became obvious that it should be investigated. Building a surfboard from agricultural waste and fungal fibers felt like closing a loop between culture and ecology. The first prototype wasn’t perfect; too fragile and too experimental but it worked. It floated. It told a story. Now there’s a company in French Brittany producing them.

Now, the same philosophy continues through the skateboard project, which is still at an early stage, but already full of potential. It’s about bringing biobased design to street culture, where performance, identity, and craft meet. Every prototype teaches something new. Every failure opens another path. It’s the same curiosity that started my journey.

All these experiences led me to see my work differently. These recent projects come from a personal interest but I have been involved in more impactful research such as replacing plastic-foam insulation for the construction sectors.

Studio Cartier is no longer just a design practice but more of a bridge. A bridge between art and science, between waste and value, between curiosity and impact.

More recently, this bridge expanded geographically with Spora, my new venture based in the UAE. There, I’m focusing on local waste streams, especially palm tree and date-fiber residues , to grow materials adapted to hot climates and regional construction needs. The idea is to use what’s already available in abundance to create circular, locally rooted materials. Every place has its own ecosystem, its own waste, its own potential. Spora is about learning from that and designing with it.

After years of working with mycelium, I’ve realised that innovation doesn’t always mean inventing something new. Sometimes it means paying attention to what nature has already perfected. As mushrooms are coming from mycelium, like an apple is coming from the tree, it’s a material that can both provide building resources but also healthy food, it seems we have much more usage to discover to live in harmony with nature.

Mycelium keeps teaching me that the future of design might not be built — it might be grown.

Keep Growing 🍄