Words
Fleur van den Brandt
Photography
Tikse
On April 16, 2026, we received a message from Corep Ibérica confirming that the linen used for our lampshades came from Linder. At that point, we had already started sending traceability questionnaires throughout different parts of our production chain while developing our Object Passports. Originally, this started quite practically: gathering information about materials, origins, certifications and production methods. But somewhere during that process, curiosity slowly took over. We have always believed that materials carry much larger stories than we often realize. A linen lampshade may seem like a relatively quiet object, but behind it sits an entire chain of growers, mills, factories, transport routes, decisions and makers spread across Europe. The more we looked into our own objects, the harder it became to stay satisfied with broad descriptions like “European linen” or “made in France.” We wanted to understand what actually sat behind those words.
Following the material backwards
What followed became a gradual process of tracing the material backwards through the chain. The lampshade led us to the fabric. The fabric led us to spinning mills. The yarn led us further toward flax cooperatives and growing regions. Along the way, conversations unfolded with suppliers, manufacturers and textile specialists who were all surprisingly open to helping us piece the story together. One thing we quickly noticed is that most companies are simply not used to being asked questions at this level of detail. Information often remains broad: a country, a region, sometimes a supplier category. But because every small detail interested us, we kept reading, researching, cross-checking and slowly connecting pieces together ourselves. Websites, certifications, technical documents and supplier references became unexpectedly valuable sources of information throughout the process. Eventually, the chain brought us toward Safilin, one of Europe’s historic flax spinning companies, and from there further back toward the European flax belt: the historic growing region stretching across northern France and parts of Belgium and the Netherlands. Through cooperatives and verified sourcing examples such as Terre de Lin, Agy Lin, Van Robaeys and Castellins, we were able to trace the material all the way back to real flax-growing regions and agricultural networks connected to the yarn production itself.
A European material chain
What fascinated us most was not necessarily a single technical detail, but the realization of how geographically connected the entire chain still is. The flax is grown in Hauts-de-France, Normandy, Somme and West Flanders. The yarn is spun by Safilin in Milakowo, Poland. The fabric is woven and finished by Linder in Violay, France. The lampshades are assembled by Corep Ibérica in Coz, Portugal before eventually arriving in our studio in Venlo, the Netherlands. Even today, the material still moves through a relatively concentrated European network built around generations of textile knowledge and craftsmanship.
What transparency actually looks like
At the same time, the process also taught us something important about transparency itself. Traceability is rarely one perfectly clean line from object to field. It is usually a process of gradually uncovering layers, understanding systems, speaking with people and accepting that some parts of production naturally remain fluid over time. Harvests change, sourcing shifts slightly between batches, and production chains evolve. Rather than seeing that as frustrating, we actually came to appreciate the honesty of it. What mattered most to us was the willingness throughout the chain to openly share information and help us understand how the material ecosystem operates. That openness became one of the most positive surprises of the entire process. Every company we contacted was remarkably cooperative, and all carried strong certifications and longstanding expertise within their field. We also received photographs, documentation and background information that made the material feel increasingly tangible — not just for us, but eventually for everybody who encounters the object itself.
Looking at linen differently
Before this research, we mainly loved our Linen / 024 for the atmosphere it creates around light. Tracing the material backwards only deepened that appreciation. The linen stopped feeling like a neutral fabric choice and started feeling connected to real places, real harvests and real people across the chain. The lampshade itself did not physically change, but our relationship to it certainly did. And maybe that is ultimately why we wanted to share this process publicly. Not because transparency makes an object perfect, and not because we see traceability as a marketing exercise. But because understanding where materials come from changes the way you look at them. A lampshade becomes more than a finished object. It becomes connected to flax fields, spinning mills, weaving ateliers, assembly tables, conversations, research and human knowledge accumulated over generations. Much of that remains invisible when the light is switched on. But we think there is something valuable in knowing it is there.
