Fena Kosfeld is a young German-born artist and material explorer working between Germany and Barcelona, aiming to develop a practice that moves fluidly across sculpture, objects, light and experimental material research. Trained in Fine Art at the University of the Arts London and later in New Materials at the Elisava School of Design and Engineering in Barcelona, Kosfeld’s work is at the crossroads of artistic intuition and research-driven experimentation, creating objects capable of inhabiting our homes as real creatures or, as she prefers to call them, companions.
Through the exploration of materials, creating sculptural works that oscillate between object and organism, they often appear as fictitious presences that inhabit interiors, exhibition spaces and landscapes, where light plays a central role. More than a functional element, it becomes a medium and metaphor, shaping atmosphere and perception while reinforcing the ephemeral nature of her work. Rooted in ecological consciousness and a persistent sense of curiosity, Kosfeld’s practice unfolds as an evolving dialogue between material, environment and experience.
Portrait of Fenna Kosfeld © Fenna Kosfeld
Mother Dweller x Massif © Fenna Kosfeld
Resident Mother © Fenna Kosfeld
Resident Mother © Fenna Kosfeld
Detail of light sculpture © Fenna Kosfeld
Mother Dweller detail © Fenna Kosfeld
In her studio, creation becomes a process of research: Kosfeld works with materials such as charred bone, oxidized steel, biopolymers, cotton and fire, addressing transformation itself – burning, charring, binding and reconstruction – not simply as techniques but as ways of understanding matter and its life cycles, its decay and reactivation, exploring how materialspace and atmosphere are interconnected within wider ecological systems.
In this conversation, an impulse emerges to reflect on the origins of language sculpture, the role of intuition and science in its process, and how light and materials become tools to explore the interconnectedness, perception, and subtle presence of objects in space.
Your works are more like light sculptures than conventional lamps. How did your practice begin?
Fenna Kosfeld:
I started sculpting when I was about fourteen or fifteen. I later went to university in London and my work gradually evolved into an exploration of the ephemeral and the intangible – things like energy and invisible forces. My research has always moved between a scientific approach and a very sensory, intuitive approach.
Your work seems to move between scientific thinking and a very sensory perception of the world. How do these two approaches coexist in your practice?
Fenna Kosfeld:
I am fascinated by scientific language, measurements and quantitative systems, because they are in stark contrast to how I experience the world. There is an intellectual curiosity there, but also a very primal and highly sensory way of perceiving life. This contrast reflects something fundamental about the world we live in: on the one hand we try to define and understand everything, and on the other, there is the pleasure of simply wondering. My mother is an interior designer, so I grew up visiting her studio, playing with samples of materials and observing how spaces are arranged. Early on I became sensitive not only to materials and composition, but also to the atmosphere or energy of a room.
When did light become the central medium of your work?
Fenna Kosfeld:
I have been experimenting with objects found in the forest and light since the beginning but at some point I realized that light is an extremely powerful medium. And the use of light is not only functional, it also has a metaphorical and poetic dimension that people understand instinctively because it is so fundamental to our experience of the world.
During my studies, I was very interested in ecology and the idea that everything is interconnected. I have often wondered how the sense of light – or the absence of it – changes our awareness of a space and our existence. Light can increase perception and appreciation. It highlights and intensifies the experience of a natural as well as an indoor space. From there, I started thinking about how light could act as a mediator, something that can communicate ideas about interconnectedness without being didactic.
Materials also seem to play a fundamental role in your work. How did this interest develop?
Fenna Kosfeld:
Eventually this research turned into a more intuitive manufacturing process. I began to wonder how to combine science, feeling and ecology. The key element became material. Looking closely, all matter is made up of atoms and molecules. At a fundamental level everything is made of matter and light is the giver of presence. Humans are made entirely of non-human matter. This realization led to a deeper fascination with materials. The tactile interest I always had became a research direction: exploring materials and light together. Play has always been an important part of this process.
At the end of my studies, during the pandemic, I had a large but isolated studio at Chelsea College. With the campus nearly empty, I spent a lot of time thinking about how art and objects could co-exist with everyday life while creating a subtle sense of appreciation for our interconnectedness. This led to the establishment of a garden project with my friend Marnie, called GREENHaus, in which we introduced sculpture into living ecosystems and let coexistence happen.
That’s where my first outdoor sculpture really came together. It was made from birch bark and placed in an outdoor garden area, lit by solar panels. For the first time the narrative, the choice of material, the environment and light as a medium converged.
Light is a difficult concept for designers. As you said before, it is technical, but also poetic. Did you choose it precisely because of this challenge?
Fenna Kosfeld:
Yes. In my art practice, I don’t approach it from a solution-oriented perspective. I have a material research practice that is more “mad-scientific” and technical, but the work I focus on now comes from a creative exploration. Using material poetry and visual storytelling to evoke appreciation and emotion. The objects are functional, but they are not just light bulbs. I realize a lot of people see them that way when they come across them online. But when people experience them in person, their reaction is very different. There is a kind of presence around them. Something mystical.
Part of that comes from traffic. The pieces move and this changes the relationship with the object. For me, this movement allows me to connect with him on a very personal level. It combines artistic and design practice. They can exist in a domestic space and be used, but they also evoke something more experiential.
The fact that they move is very interesting. I would personally place something like this in my home and use it both functionally and emotionally.
Fenna Kosfeld:
This is because, I think, I see them as creatures, or, better, as companions. The heartwarming series is called the Dweller family. It started with a simple sketch. I then spent almost a year in my studio focusing solely on my practice, giving myself the time to explore it properly.
I work a lot with metal, which is my main sculptural medium, along with some unusual materials like bones. Forms developed through physical shaping and movement. Dance also plays a role in my process – moving my body, letting gestures and breath guide the shaping of the piece.
The sculpting was very intuitive. At one point the piece was standing in the studio and I started to gently move it around. It might sound weird, but I started dancing to it. This is how balance and structure came about. Only later did I begin to understand the mechanisms that make the object stable while still appearing fragile. The original idea was just to have a studio partner – something my height, present with me while I worked. Ideally, this sense of connection can be felt by others as well.
Is there anything else about the work that you think is important to better and more deeply understand the meaning and process behind it?
Fenna Kosfeld:
The bodies of the Dwellers, both the animatronics and the smaller sculptures, are made of bone – currently cow bone. This choice comes from earlier research I did on carbon materials and their potential in sustainable material design.
The carbonization of organic matter creates a very porous structure. Each material forms its own kind of carbon architecture, capable of holding nutrients, water, liquids and even absorbing odors. It behaves almost like a battery, storing and interacting with its environment.
During my graduate research I studied the process of carbonization not only from a scientific point of view but also from a ritual point of view: turning something that was once alive through fire into a pure, dark material. People often associate it with death or waste, but what remains is actually pure carbon, one of the fundamental building blocks of life.
When I observed these materials under the microscope, the internal structure looked like a biomorphic architecture. It was incredibly beautiful. At the time I imagined creating large sculptures from these materials that could be placed in landscapes, ultimately dissolving and returning nutrients to the soil.
Even though this particular line of research is currently on hiatus, the material still informs my work and the charred bone carries the memory of its former life and function. In the sculptures it becomes a kind of body, while the light acts as the counterpart that brings it to life.
