Words Billie Brand
Photography Kane Hulse

Andu Masebo zooms up to the gated entrance of his workshop in Hoxton, east London, on his vintage black Vespa. “Am I late?” the product designer asks, taking off his helmet. No, he’s right on time. He welcomes us inside. There are wood shavings on the floor, stacks of steel tubes by one wall, a prototype of his ‘Union’ chair against another and boxes of his ‘No.12’ candleholders next to the door. Andu, who has been “making stuff” since 2011, is at an interesting point in his career. He’s noticed his three-legged metal candleholders, which he’s released in a series of bold colourways, are being resold on eBay. “The seller is saying they’re official because they have my sticker on,” he says, gesturing to a shiny logo on a pink version. “I had a weird moment of realisation: someone is selling an ‘Andu Masebo.’” He’s in disbelief. “A lot of this is new to me.”

Andu grew up in Finsbury Park, north London. His mother is a “bohemian” maths teacher, his father an accountant. As a result, Andu is more interested in how things work than what they look like. “I like the gritty side of design,” he says, surely. “I don’t want to make art. I want to make simple and accessible objects.” Yet Andu can count the fashion circuit among his fans, has produced sets for Marc Jacobs and has been named “a furniture maker to watch” by the Financial Times. Andu, however, is remarkably humble and doesn’t appear fazed by any of this. “I’m too focused on milling tolerances and my workshop,” he says. When we visit, we see what Andu means, when he makes each member of the three-person team on set a miniature version of his ‘Tea’ shelf – a handy mug-sized wall-mounted made from ash – which he surprises us with at the end of the day.

Perhaps there’s nowhere his objects look better than at his own apartment in Camberwell, south-east London, where he lives with his fiancé, creative consultant Nellie Eden, and their Siberian forest/tabby cat, Zelda. The open-plan kitchen and living area feature his ‘Union’ chairs set around a 1970s dining table by Kazuhide Takahama, sourced from their friend Gennaro Leone; a floor-to-ceiling bespoke shelving unit filled with books;  his ‘Aalto’ shelf, attached to the wall and holding a vase with lilies about to bloom. A few iterations of the candleholders are dotted about the place.

Alongside his own work, Andu and Nellie’s home – a series of light-filled, double-height living spaces – has been exquisitely decorated with modernist pieces, including a cowhide ‘Wassily’ chair by Marcel Breuer and a paper chandelier by Ingo Maurer that their friends leave notes and drawings on when they visit. Andu says the scheme is all Nellie’s work and insists he doesn’t have “good taste” because he’s unfussed by trends. But being here with her has greatly influenced his work. “Having conversations with my fiancé about what she wants from a space has added a layer to it that otherwise wouldn’t exist,” he says.

From his workshop in Hoxton to his home in Camberwell, we spend a day with Andu – and find out what makes him tick.

Andu, let’s start with your workshop. What can you tell me about the space?
It’s part of Sara Lane Studios in Hoxton, which was created specifically for makers and designers. I share it with two friends I studied product design with at the Royal College of Art. Inside there are industrial machines but there’s also space to sit down and read, think and discuss. That balance is important – especially when it comes to design. If the space hadn’t been available, I wouldn’t have chosen to work in east London. I’d be happy out in the countryside if it’s within an hour’s drive of where I live.

What time do you arrive here in the morning?
I aim to get here between 9 and 10.30am. I don’t have a strict routine. Sometimes I have big projects, meaning I have long working days, while other periods are more relaxed. I find it easy to get stuck straight into making because it’s practical work. When I do, I quickly forget if there’s music on or not. I could easily go a whole day without listening to anything.

How has the start of 2023 been for you? The past 12 months looked particularly busy…
Over the last year, I’ve been making a lot more of my own products – and it’s got a lot of attention. I believe that’s because I’ve spent a long period learning how to do things properly. I spent a lot of time in my 20s not being creative, doing installation jobs and working with fabricators, carpenters and metalworkers, who gave me a lot of guidance. I was taught to do things in environments that weren’t very glamorous. I was figuring things out as I went along.

How would you describe what you do now?
I don’t see myself as a maker – but it’s the knowledge of making that drives the ideas I come up with. A lot of the stuff I’ve done is inspired by the car industry, for instance. There’s still a thriving community of local garages and spraying studios in London that allow you to use them for their production, which is actually quite rare. A lot of the other industries don’t exist in the city any more.

Your ‘Tubular’ chair is made from the same metal as car exhausts; the ‘No.12’ candleholder is finished with car-body spray paint – that’s become a bit of a cult product…
I designed the candleholder in about 20 minutes. It wasn’t challenging to make – and it works because it’s colourful, fun and affordable. It’s become a bit of a postcard for me – and making them keeps me busy. I make about 100 at a time. I weld and clean them all myself. It’s a messy job.

It wasn’t my intention to sell them. It was my friend, Jenna Fletcher, who runs the design shop Oswalde, that said: ‘Let’s do this’. That was the first time anyone looked at my work and wanted to be a part of it. I don’t have a huge awareness of colour, which is why Jenna was useful. She understands how people live with objects, which requires a different frame of mind. I’m focused on its bending radius, weight and fabrication.

If you weren’t, how would you like to spend the afternoon?
I rarely get a day off… But if I ever get the chance to go to a factory, brewery or industrial bakery, I’ll take it. I’d love to go more. I’m fascinated with anyone that’s an expert in what they do and I’m always interested in seeing heavy machinery up close. That’s where the ideas for my projects come from. I would love to work with manufacturers on a scale that meant I could use new technology.

Are there any designers that you admire?
My only design hero is Enzo Mari. He’s on the top of a plinth for me. There are lots of incredible designers but his is the only career I would embrace in its entirety. I like the way he brought politics into his work and made things for people that meant something. He also had a unique relationship with manufacturers.

Describe your home in Camberwell.
Our flat is in a Victorian hospital building that was converted into domestic housing in the 1980s. Nellie bought the flat two years ago and opened it up a lot with help from Martin Antal, who worked on the construction. It’s amazing how much light we let in by removing a few doors.

You have lots of your own pieces at home. How does it feel to live with them?
That was never intentional. Nellie was eager to have them here but I just thought of our home as a place to store things. I’m not interested in the pieces themselves. For me, it’s about the story around them.

The shelf in the living room, for example, is part of a project called ‘Simple Pleasures’. Nellie loves lilies, but cats are allergic to them. That’s how I came up with the ‘Aalto’ shelf. It holds the 251mm version of Alvar Aalto’s vase and means Nellie can enjoy the flowers at a height without worrying about Zelda. I designed the ‘Tea’ shelf so she had somewhere to put her mug.

All the chairs around the dining table are also mine. Making them was a huge technical challenge because I wanted to create something comfortable using only a single plank of wood – that’s what motivated me to make it.

Tell us about some of your favourite objects in the space.
We have a floor lamp by Achille Castiglioni that’s really special. It was revolutionary at the time it was designed in 1971 and is very different to a lot of the other things he made. I also love our Enzo Mari saucepan.

Tell me about your local area. Where do you like to go out in Camberwell?
The Camberwell Arms is really solid. It does great food and there’s a great atmosphere. My usual order is a Campari spritz or a Kernel pale ale. When it comes to food, I’ll order a spread of what’s on offer – the menu usually rotates and it’s always delicious. The pasta ragù is a particular favourite of mine. Another restaurant I love isn’t in Camberwell. It’s Rita’s in Soho. I’m good friends with its founders, Missy and Gabe. I really like it when high and low culture meet in the middle and that’s something that they do really well.

What does a day well spent look like to you, Andu?
If I was left to my own devices, I’d probably be in the workshop for 13 hours a day. Being in a relationship with Nellie means I have someone to pull me out of that headspace and do nice things with, such as going for a walk in the park. That helps my work because I’m not so zoned-in on making. Things can be uninteresting if you’re not engaged with the outside world.

Lastly, is there a home for sale on The Modern House that’s caught your eye recently?
I think Nellie and I would do something fun with the Void Space in the Barbican estate.