You’ve said that your work is inherently political. But is it also intended to be fun?
Yes, that is very important. My visual language is meant to create pleasure. And it’s always a response to what’s happening in the world. If there’s a war, I must do something, if possible, to make people laugh or smile. The only other option is too depressing. In that way, the work has an important function. When you add not just good use of material to an object but a point of view, whether it’s political or social or religious, then it becomes art.
When you look at your body of work, do you see a history of political action?
In certain things, yes. In others, I’m expressing only my curiosity about a new technology.
What else inspires you?
I find inspiration through observing diversity.
Is the curse of the designer that you’re always thinking about how you could have made someone else’s object better?
Yes, that happens without me wanting it to.
Who do you think is making interesting buildings?
Maybe Jean Nouvel, I don’t know. The tower that he made in Barcelona that looks like a suppository is very funny. He copied the English guy, what’s his name?
I gave a lecture at the Royal Academy of Art in London, where I said to the audience, “Can you explain to me the relationship between your English identity and that suppository?” The room went silent. But it’s true! Why did they build a suppository? Renzo Piano also made one in Stuttgart. It’s a thing.
Are you optimistic about the new generation of designers and architects?
Yes, but I’m not optimistic about their teachers. They teach what they were taught when they were young, so their wisdom is already old. That’s a problem.
How long will your piece cover the museum’s facade?
I have no idea. It would be fantastic if they decided to keep it there forever.
This interview has been edited and condensed.