ESP / EN
Marcelo Lucini y Ariel Estanga:
Material Geographies
M.L. It was really a personal search. I came from a completely different métier - finance, nothing to do with this - and wanted to move into something more design-oriented, and more distinctly Argentine. It all began in 2001, in the midst of the financial crisis we were going through. Thinking about it as a business, there was an opportunity to export things, which had never really been possible in the 1990s because everything here was imported. I started travelling around the country, looking for materials, artisans and inspiration. I got to know people and began experimenting. There was a lot of trial and error. At the time, the artisans were making very small things. They produced pieces for markets and fairs, or replacement parts; they weren’t prepared for what Aires del Sur would eventually become. It was a process we developed together, whilst experimenting. We would often reach a piece that simply couldn’t be replicated. We had to work out what could actually be produced - and not necessarily in a series, because at a certain point every AIREDELSUR piece is one of a kind. There’s always a different mark, a different stone, a horn with a different shape.
When I started selling at fairs and brought a pieces that people wanted to buy severall of, the challenge was to find ways to reproduce it. Maybe I would find one enormous, extraordinary horn, but it was unique. We had to adapt in order to fulfil orders; that was the whole idea behind exporting.
In the early years, we didn’t sell in Argentina at all. We only sold at international fairs. We went to the United States, Paris, Tokyo and São Paulo. Eventually we opened in Buenos Aires and started selling here as well. It was difficult to enter the local market because, at that time, Argentines were so accustomed to buying imported goods, and our products seemed rather basic to them - something handmade in Argentina wasn’t regarded as very valuable. People who would be travelling abroad did value them, they would take them as gifts, but argentinians didn’t necessarily want them for their own homes or country houses. Thankfully, that has changed.
Going back to the beginning, for the suppliers. I travelled through countless provinces, visiting workshops, groups of artisans and associations. Many of them gradually fell away as the project grew. We increasingly needed to produce larger quantities, with better quality. Many artisans felt that when they made five pieces, those pieces would all be very different. We always accepted a certain degree of variation, but it had to be coherent.
It was a beautiful process because they began to learn and gain confidence in their craft. They never imagined they would be making what they make today. We learned together, by experimenting and investing. At the time, some of the artisans, didn’t have a house or a car, and now they have their own truck and their own home. So, in that sense, it’s wonderful. It’s an enormous source of satisfaction to be able to help people do something they themselves never thought possible, and to make a living from it. It’s also beautiful because when they receive large orders or have a lot of work, they bring in members of their families to help,they come together and grow.
Then Ariel and I began travelling together. We went to different places and provinces, lakes and mountains. Each place gave us a particular memory, a touch of something we liked. For example, we have a collection called Chaltén. It’s a very rustic line in wood and alpaca, and it was automatically called Chaltén because it took us back to that place. The work with the artisans is mutual because we respect the way they work and what they have learned. As we get to know their knowledge and skills, we adapt to them while also giving them a little more input, so that they can continue improving.
AIREDELSUR began as a rustic company -“rustic chic”, as it was called initially. When we were represented in the United States, we were told that if we wanted to become an international brand, the products needed to be positioned for specific environments rather than just any kind of shop or megastore. Over time, we refined the work so that we could sell in Europe, where the taste is different. Then we moved into the Middle East, which has another kind of aesthetic. Today we have products that can be sold globally.
How do you translate a landscape or region into a piece? How does all the information gathered through those travels make its way into the object?
A.E. We have a collection that reflects this particularly well. It’s called Lacar. We travel quite a lot to the south. Lacar means lake. This piece echoes the silhouette of the lake. Even the handles, which are enormous, and the martelé finish evoke its light, reflections and movement.
Sometimes the reference is literal, as in this case, and other times it comes through something much smaller -a texture or a volume that we see in a particular mountain, for example.
What enables you to recognise that a particular stone, wood, metal or fibre can become the starting point for a piece, an object or a collection?
M.L. Over these twenty-five years, we’ve experimented with thousands of materials. Not only the ones you mentioned -we’ve also worked with things like coconuts and wool. What limits us is quantity. It’s not easy to source five hundred coconuts and keep them in stock. The same applies to horns, bone or stone. And the same thing happened with wool. We made beautiful rugs, but we were producing one every three months. It became a problem. There are stones with incredible colours, but you only come across them occasionally. So you have to work with what you know you’ll be able to find again tomorrow. At one point we had this beautiful jade-like stone. It was a very beautiful green onyx which, by the way, was featured in Oprah magazine -Oprah bought the entire collection for herself. Then, suddenly, there was a landslide and we could never use that particular green again. So one of our most sought-after products simply stopped being made.
We depend on nature, on what nature gives us. As we know, everything is handmade, as well as entirely natural, coming from all over Argentina. We’re not interested in going through other industries. To give an example. At one point I loved agate and, perhaps rather naively, I referred to it as Brazilian. We went to Iguazú and were told that there was a place an hour away where there was an agate quarry. Later on that year we developed the agate collection. That’s how it works: you travel, you discover things, you get to know them.
How do the artisan communities grow alongside you? How is the exchange with artisans built, and what transformations does it produce on both sides? For them, perhaps a professionalisation of their craft or economic growth within the community. And for you, perhaps something more intimate?
M.L. We develop very personal relationships. You have to imagine that, when I first started visiting them, I didn’t go to a workshop or factory. I went to their homes where their children, their families and their uncles lived. I would use the bathroom and it was the family bathroom. It was very intimate. People would tell me about their problems, and I would try to help them. It’s a much closer relationship than the one I might establish with a supplier in Buenos Aires, whom I visit at a warehouse somewhere in the province. In that sense, the relationship is much warmer. It makes me happy to see them grow, develop and learn. I remember that when we started, I had a wool supplier who used to send me letters. Handwritten letters through the post. That was how we communicated. He didn’t have a telephone, fax, mobile phone. As we started to grow, things gradually improved, and they learned how to use computers that we sent over. They didn’t know how to issue invoices or handle their accounts and the legal side of things. We would have to meet with our accountant to teach them and prepare them. If the plan was to export, we needed them to deliver the goods in the most organised way possible. They learned how to do it. I think it’s something mutual that develops through the relationship. You become more than just a client. We depend on thousands of factors that a factory today simply wouldn’t have to depend on.
How does design coexist with the natural variations of materials and the specific knowledge of each craft? Do the different communities work within their own crafts, while your pieces then bring together different crafts and materials?
A.E. We have a great deal of respect for each artisans way of working, because that’s where everything begins. The artisan who works with alpaca knows how to work with it. What we do is take it one step further and ask for a little more: can this be done? Could we try that? We adapt it together, and that’s a good thing because it allows us to achieve something new.
It’s great for both sides. We push them a little further. The first response is always, “no, I don’t do that. I don’t make that size.” Then they soften and say, “maybe I could make this for you.” Eventually we reach an agreement that we’re both happy with. We design it, they make it, and there’s a long process of work in between.
What role does local identity play in your work?
M.L. It’s important to respect where the material comes from. Where goat horns are found, we make a product from goat horns. In La Pampa, where we have caldén wood, we make products from caldén. It’s a very interesting wood because it only exists in La Pampa and Japan. Somehow, a little seed arrived in La Pampa and took root. Each product is developed in its place of origin. Caldén in La Pampa. Deer in Patagonia. Onyx between San Juan, Salta and Mendoza. We always respect that. Locals know how to work with their materials better than anyone. Their families, even their ancestors, understand how they need to be worked, in what particular way. We try not to confuse them with materials they don’t know, but rather to keep each material connected to its native community. That’s how the roots are preserved.
As you explore new territories, are there any regions, materials or communities you’re interested in incorporating into future collections, if you have anything in mind?
A.E. Not particularly. We continue travelling to the provinces, getting to know each place and its materials. But at the moment we’re not working specifically in any one region. Right now, we’re working on your project, here in Buenos Aires.
Speaking of Proyecto Kavanagh, what did you find in the building that gave rise to the proposal developed for this project?
A.E. First, I wanted to tell you all that we live in Plaza San Martín, so the building is part of our everyday lives. Our studios are a few blocks away; walking past it is part of our daily routine. We’re very familiar with the building.
M.L. We go to the square every day, so we see it every day.
A.E. And that’s something we really value. When the proposal came to us, we began thinking about how to approach it. We focused more specifically on Cora: how Cora lived, her fourteenth-floor flat, her three terraces. We took the geometry of those three terraces and translated it into a different proportion, creating this tea set. We imagined it in Cora’s flat, with Cora. We even wrote a little story imagining that encounter with Cora, using the tea set. It’s quite funny. You’ll be able to read it later. So we transformed the silhouettes of those three terraces into the tea set. One becomes the tray, another the milk jug, and another the sugar bowl. It has that Rationalist, Art Deco quality, just like the building. But we used the materials we work with most often: hammered alpaca and cream onyx, with all its veining and character.
It’s a very small, very beautiful set. We’re very happy to have been part of the project. Architecture translated into an object.
12/08/2026
12:30 HRS
Photo credits:
Emma Livingston
Marcelo Lucini is an Argentine designer and the founder of AIREDELSUR. For nearly three decades, he has developed objects that combine noble materials, artisanal techniques and traditional crafts from different regions of Argentina, establishing a distinctive language within contemporary design. Together with Ariel Estanga, he founded Lucini Estanga Studio, a practice dedicated to interior architecture, interior design, furniture and object design. His work is distinguished by a sensitive approach to space, the integration of pieces from different periods and origins, and particular attention to materiality, scale and detail.
ARIEL ESTANGA
Ariel Estanga is an Argentine designer trained in Europe. He developed much of his career in footwear design for international brands such as Zara and Mango, a period that culminated in his role as Head Designer alongside Karl Lagerfeld. Upon returning to Buenos Aires, he joined AIREDELSUR, bringing his experience in design and artisanal processes to the development of objects made from metals, natural stones and noble materials. He later co-founded Lucini Estanga Studio with Marcelo Lucini, a practice dedicated to interior architecture, interior design, furniture and object design.