In Dialogue – Adam Weismann

There are materials that define a space through presence, and others that shape it more quietly — through how they hold light, temper sound, and settle the body over time. At Yapa Milan, clay belongs to the latter. It does not announce itself. It works from within.

The atmosphere of the room was not conceived through material alone, but through a broader spatial intent — one defined by calm, balance, and softness. Clay enters as a means to hold that condition. Not as a feature, but as a medium through which the space can breathe.

For Adam Weismann, co-founder of Clayworks, this way of working begins long before application. It is rooted in an understanding of clay not as a finish, but as a living material with its own behaviour, memory, and intelligence.

“For thousands of years, clay has been used to build and plaster structures,” he reflects. “We have a lot to learn from our ancestors — using that knowledge in a way that benefits people and places now.”

“Clay is innately familiar to us,” he says. “It transcends cultures and time.”

This familiarity is not always conscious. In spaces like Yapa, most guests will not register the material directly. And yet, its presence is felt — in the way the room settles, in the absence of harshness, in the ease with which people inhabit it.

“Clay breathes,” Adam explains. “It responds to humidity. It retains heat and gently releases it. It regulates moisture, absorbs odours and pollutants, buffers temperature, and softens acoustics. It’s not static — it’s something that shifts and settles with the environment.”

In this way, clay operates less as surface and more as atmosphere. Its contribution is cumulative, built through small, continuous adjustments that shape the sensory field of the room. Light is absorbed rather than reflected. Sound is softened rather than carried. Edges dissolve. The space becomes quieter, more grounded.

“Clay has an incredible way of shaping how a space feels,” he continues. “It softens everything — the light, the sound, the atmosphere — and creates a sense of calm that you don’t always consciously notice, but you feel.”

This distinction — between what is seen and what is felt — defines its role within the project. Clay is not there to be read as a material statement. It is there to support a condition. To allow the space to hold itself with a certain stillness.

That role requires precision.

Within StudioMacBride’s process, material is never approached in isolation. It is calibrated in relation to the intended atmosphere — how surfaces are perceived at different distances, how they respond to changing light, how they settle over time. Adam’s contribution sits within this framework, translating spatial intent into material behaviour.

Collaboration, in this context, is not about generating ideas, but refining them. Testing, adjusting, and tuning until the material performs exactly as required.

This feedback loop — between environment and perception — becomes the true site of the work. It is where material moves beyond specification and begins to shape experience.

“I gravitate toward materials that tell a story,” Adam reflects. “Oftentimes it’s the imperfections in natural materials that create the aesthetic and emotional magic. ‘It’  shows the hand of the maker, that carry the marks of time.”

Within Yapa the material  allows the space to evolve quietly — to become more itself over time, rather than remaining fixed at a single moment of completion.

This is where clay aligns most closely with the broader intent of the project. It supports an atmosphere that is not imposed, but allowed to emerge.

It is, ultimately, a material that recedes in order to give something else forward.

At Yapa, that something is a sense of ease.. A space that does not need to declare itself, because it has already been resolved through the alignment of vision, material, and hand.

In this alignment, clay finds its place. Not as a story of its own, but as part of a larger composition — one that is felt more than it is seen, and remembered not for what it shows, but for how it makes you feel.