Team Thursday is a graphic design studio founded by Loes van Esch and Simone Trum, based in Rotterdam, Netherlands. They specialize in designing visual identities, books, and spatial objects. With a particular interest in typography, a curiosity for materials, and the potential performativity of objects, they seek patterns in their surroundings and explore ways to transform them into designs.

When we create patterns, it's usually for a specific purpose. For example, last year we made Jacquard woven curtains. For that project, we were provided clear direction that we could work with patterns. It also aligned well with the weaving technique, allowing us to explore a lot of possibilities. We're particularly drawn to vernacular design and find inspiration just by walking around the streets and observing things. Many of the patterns we create are based on something we've encountered or seen. It's satisfying for us to translate these findings into a flat design. Personally, I find it compelling to use patterns as a sort of structural tool in a book if the content calls for it or if we can extract a pattern from the content itself. So, typically, we start by finding something — an image or an idea — that we can translate into a pattern. We don't usually have specific ideas about how the pattern should look or what colors to use beforehand. Instead, we begin with a conceptual approach, relating to a certain content or idea. That's usually how we start our formal research into what effect the pattern will have.

In the case of Does a Face Have a Chronology?, it happened during the Seoul residency. Our initial plan was to have no plan and just see what happens. This is something we usually can't do in our graphic design practice, where there are always assignments and deadlines. While we try not to be overly results-driven, there inevitably needs to be a final result. We saw the residency as an opportunity to take a break from that. So, we didn't set specific goals; instead, we started walking around a lot. Coming from the Netherlands, a country known for its brick architecture and modernist traditions, we were particularly fascinated by the highly ornamented bricks we found in the streets.

We also love typography, and the idea of creating a variable typeface out of bricks, like a typographic bricklayer, intrigued us. We envisioned the stones having solid states but being counter-variable. This led us to rethink movements in a typeface in a different way. So, we took these bricks as a starting point, and translating them from photos into vector shapes was the easiest way to begin. From there, we continued building. In the book, the black type is essentially a regular typeface, but the colorful pages showcase various exercises where we built walls of typography. These became an ever-evolving set of types to us.

In this case, our goal was never explicitly to “create a pattern.” Instead, it emerged as a result of our research. This approach reflects how we like to consider patterns in relation to the content or project we're working on, exploring what they can be. This method of working resonates with us.

Regarding what you're saying, Loes and I studied in Arnhem, and we are Dutch. So, there are certainly differences, but we were also brought up with a hardcore modernist tradition. The work we are creating now is quite different from what we did at the academy. After graduating, it took us a long time to break free from the constraints of this modernist approach and define our own rules and interests. It was a journey that took us many years to accept that we could explore different things and to discover what those things were.

I hope we're still in the process because I'd like to think that this is an ever-evolving thing. But yeah, I feel like we're somewhat in between certain traditions or ways of working, and I'm comfortable with that. We're not hyper-ornamental in a classical way, but also not hyper-modernist or hyper-conceptual. We're also not extremely autonomous because we still work for commissioners. So, I kind of like this place, and I want to find out what else we can do.

The evolution of our studio space was quite organic. It's an old garage that now looks like this, situated in the city center of Rotterdam. When we stumbled upon this space, we felt fortunate, as it's becoming increasingly difficult to find good studio spaces in Rotterdam. During our residency in Seoul, I collected a lot of posters from friends, graphic designers I had met. I was always conscious of not wanting to be someone who just visits a city for my own benefit without giving something back. So, the first thing we organized was an exhibition of these posters here in the space. We decided to use a curtain to separate the space into two areas, which turned out to be quite convenient. The idea just evolved naturally, without much planning.
It was refreshing to organize an exhibition that didn't feature our own works, which can be more challenging. We simply wanted to showcase the posters, and the opening reception was a great success. After that, it just became a recurring event. Sometimes friends would ask us if they could exhibit here too. However, it's been relatively quiet for about one and a half years now, and we're planning the next one for September. It can be a bit challenging to organize because our studio is quite packed, and we have to rearrange everything. As a graphic designer, it's still a big question for me: How do we want to proceed in the coming years? I want to maintain autonomy but don't necessarily want to become an artist. It's an ongoing question for me. Organizing these exhibitions allows us to operate autonomously; we don't rely on subsidies or external directives. We simply do it when we feel like it. From an organizational perspective, it's liberating, and we also learn a lot from collaborating with other artists and discussing how to set up the space. It's almost like an annual studio party, but instead of fancy cocktails, we invite artists and interested individuals to view the artwork. These organizational aspects and the interactions with visitors are integral
to our studio's identity.

I think the word 'autonomous' is something I use to challenge myself in a way because I'm very aware that our work as graphic designers is not inherently autonomous. This term is more commonly associated with artists. However, I find Na Kim to be a great example, and also, during my time in Seoul, designers like Sulki and Min and Moonsick Gang seem to blur the lines between graphic designers and artists. Their work feels liberated and free, even though they may still work for commissioners.

I'm now thinking about how I, as a graphic designer, can become my own commissioner. There are Dutch designers who start their own publishing houses, venture into education, or launch their own magazines, effectively becoming their own commissioners in a way. I find this aspect really intriguing. Perhaps this could be a path towards greater autonomy for me.

However, I also find that we, as graphic designers, thrive within certain parameters and deadlines. We enjoy having specific settings to work within. This contradicts the idea of autonomy to some extent. So, I'm not entirely sure how to reconcile these conflicting desires.

I hope that in the future, we can move away from the traditional design studio model, where we work primarily for external commissioners. I'm searching for something different, but I'm not sure exactly what it is yet.