Hussein Chalayan

Hello! I’m good, and you?

Thanks to you.

I’m in Berlin. As you know, I'm part of the Forecast mentorship program, so I’m here for the whole week. We have our presentation on Sunday.

Freo Majer, the head of the programme, contacted me a few years ago, but I couldn’t do it back then. This time around, a friend of mine (an artist named Ana Prvački, based in Berlin) had recently done a mentorship with them. So I knew about the programme through her, even though I had already been contacted before. Freo reached out to me again recently, and this time I was able to make it work. So I accepted, and it’s been quite an enriching experience.

This theme is something I’ve been interested in for many years in my own work. I’m drawn to the idea of the loss of self — how many things we do in life tend to create a sort of disembodied state, often in pursuit of happiness. In a way, this ranges from living other people’s lives to club experiences to technology. Even now, this conversation is digital; we’re not physically present. So, the whole project is about trying to reclaim the self. That’s the idea.
Essentially, I provided the brief and people applied. We had around two hundred applicants. I had to select nine, then narrow it down to three, and finally, at the end of this week, I’ll have to choose just one. So that’s how it began.
I didn’t specifically seek fashion applicants; I actually preferred working with people outside of fashion because it’s more interesting for me. I’ve always worked as an artist from the beginning of my path, exhibiting in galleries and museums. I don’t really see myself strictly as a designer or an artist — they go hand in hand. Some problems I create as an artist, I solve as a designer, and vice versa.

Exactly. I have a gallery I work with, and I do exhibitions in gallery spaces. But with a project like this, where you work very intensely with just one person, I found it more interesting to collaborate with someone outside the fashion world. In fact, the people I’m working with come from performance backgrounds. They’re not practising visual artists in the traditional sense, their work is much more cross-disciplinary.

Yes. Among the three finalists, the common thread is the objectification of the body. They all explore this theme. They also share a kind of disembodied presence; it’s abstract, but it’s definitely there.

I’ve been doing this for over thirty years, right? During Covid-19, I stopped producing collections because it became impossible. We had a store and all, and I was happy with many aspects of the brand, but production wasn’t feasible. So I decided to stop doing collections altogether. I wanted a different kind of life. Since then, I’ve held a professorship in Berlin at HfG Offenbach.
I’m also working as an artist with galleries and museums, and we’ve had several shows in the past few years. I also do collaborations, where a fashion brand may approach me, and if I feel aligned with them, I take it on as a collaborative project. That way, I still get to design, but they handle production and distribution. So, I’m doing three different things: teaching, working as an artist, and collaborating with brands. And then, projects like this one with Forecast, which is quite unique.

That’s a good question. Yes, I definitely feel freer. But at the same time, I had built a team where some people had worked with me for over twenty years, which is rare in fashion. I had team members who had been with me for twenty-two years. I do miss that teamwork. I’d still love to work as a creative director for a brand I admire — not my own. I feel I have a lot to offer. It’s something I’d genuinely like to be considered for. Lately, I’ve been doing more small-scale projects, and maybe some people don’t know that I’m open to something bigger. But I am. If it’s the right fit, amazing things can happen.

I can’t tell you.

I just hope to be considered. I have so much experience, energy, and enthusiasm to offer — and an incredible archive to reference.

I have ideas constantly; people like me, we’re full of ideas. The challenge is deciding what’s actually possible to realise. Often, there’s something I’m excited about, and if I’m approached at the right time, I’ll align my idea with what the project requires. Sometimes it’s a very specific commission, and I’ll come up with something entirely new for it. Usually, I start by writing quite a lot. Then I begin to symbolise ideas and experiment. It depends on the nature of the project, because I’ve done many different types.

My partner and I split our time between Athens and London, and I come to Berlin to teach. I grew up in London, but I’m from Cyprus. Since last September, we’ve been spending more time in Athens. We still have our place in London, and we go back and forth, but we prefer Athens, especially in winter.

Nothing compares to London for me. I grew up there and went to Central Saint Martins, which is an art school that happens to have a fashion department, not a fashion school per se. That makes a huge difference. You’re constantly interacting with students from other departments. When I was there, I made friends across disciplines. I come from the generation of the YBAs, the Young British Artists. Around the same time, you had musicians like Björk coming from the The Sugarcubes launching her solo career, and designers like Alexander McQueen. That’s my generation. It was such an exciting time. I wouldn’t say we were all close friends, but I spent a lot of time with Björk because we worked together, and I met many of the YBA artists. What was special was how they challenged the mainstream, socially and sexually. That kind of fearless energy was, I think, unique to the UK.
It’s hard to replicate that anywhere else. Berlin comes close. It is like London with a bit of Frankfurt in it, but London had that edge, that rawness. I think it came from poverty, tough conditions, post-war mentality, and a rich music culture. That created a platform for something truly anarchic and energetic. That said, I don’t think London is like that anymore. I think those days are over. People are too afraid now, and the cost of living is so high. I see a lot of creatives finding success outside of London. The city breeds talent but doesn’t support it enough. So, I have mixed feelings. Historically, London was incredible for me. But today, that energy has shifted.

I think it was all about a lack of worry. We were all quite poor, but we were happy. And I think that freedom from worry, living in the moment, that’s what comes to mind first. Just truly being present. Things changed for me later and I started to worry much more. But back then, there was also a lot of risk-taking. That’s probably the biggest thing: risk. I’ve said this for the past twenty or thirty years: my work has always been about taking risks. So if you ask me what stands out most in my memory from that time, it’s definitely risk-taking. And I still take risks today. It’s not something I left behind; it’s something that’s always been part of me. But I started with that mindset, yes.

Yes, I do with some of them. But I’ve noticed that when certain people achieve success, they change their behaviour. I’ve never understood that. I can’t grasp why someone would behave differently just because they’ve become successful. It sounds like a cliché, but it really happens. Not everyone changes, of course, but many do. And it’s strange to witness.

Yes, I had three mentees. One is a performance dancer named Yotam Peled, the second is Mirte Bogaert, and the third is Kihako Narisawa. I think I made a strong selection. They’re very engaged, and they get along really well with each other. Even though their mediums are very different, there's a shared thread in their work — like I mentioned earlier, the objectification of the body.
There’s definitely warmth between us, and I have to say I’m really enjoying the dialogue, lots of ideas, lots of exchange. Maybe because I already teach, I’m used to working closely with people. But these three aren’t students; they’re mature professionals. Still, teaching has trained me to try to help others through my experience. Normally, I work with younger people, but I think the instinct to support others is something I really enjoy. There’s mutual respect, and I hope mutual enjoyment too.

Yes, definitely. One thing I’ve learned is how different cultures approach creativity or how they relate to the body. I always knew this in theory, but this project made me experience it firsthand.
I also learned a lot about audience engagement. That’s something I encouraged them to pursue, and each of them did it in their own way. Seeing how they approached it has really inspired me. And the synergy between them, how one piece leads into another, has shown me how teams can collaborate effectively. So yes, I’ve learned a lot, David.

That’s a very good question. There are definitely different groups. Some students are incredibly hardworking and far more united with their peers than we were at their age. They care about sustainability, social issues, and what’s happening in the world. But then there are also students who want to be elite without doing the work. They want the status, not the process. I think social media plays a role here: it creates this illusion of overnight success. People see someone who ‘made it’ quickly and think, ‘If they did it, I can too.’ But they don’t see the depth of the work, or they simply don’t know how to get there. So yes, you get students who want to skip the effort and just land at the top. That’s worrying.
You also get opportunistic students: some are better at self-promotion than at creating meaningful content. But even opportunism can be a skill if it’s used well. Some are great communicators, and that gives them traction, visibility, followers, and then that following is mistaken for success, which can snowball. So, there are many different types.

One thing I feel strongly about is this: when students start behaving like clients, everything falls apart. Students should understand that they are learners, that they’re there to absorb, to grow. University is a precious time. You’ll never have that space again. Teachers are there to serve your development, but it’s not a hotel. It’s not about being catered to, it’s about engagement, humility, and respect.

If you find me a strategic partner –not just a financial investor, but someone who offers real strategic support– then yes, I’d love to. By that, I mean a company that understands infrastructure, maybe one of the big conglomerates. If they read this and see what I have –see the authenticity, the archive– and want to build something structured and meaningful, then absolutely. But if someone just comes to me with a few million pounds and says, ‘create a brand,’ the answer is absolutely not. It’s not just about money; it’s about knowledge, support, and shared vision.

Yes, we’re living through really difficult, worrying times. For me, the root of it all is greed. Greed creates excuses for punishing certain cultures because someone wants what they have. And I think in the Western world, especially, greed is out of control. Right behind greed is abuse of power. We wish it didn’t happen, but it does. And I don’t think we can reform that through systems alone.
What’s really missing is empathy. If we truly empathised, if we tried to walk in other people’s shoes, we’d behave differently. That’s what I believe we’re lacking: empathy. There’s too much greed, too much abuse of power, too much speed — of consumption, of life. And on top of that, discrimination and entitlement. Entitlement is a major issue. People feel they have the right to act however they want simply because they exist.
That’s the picture I see. And it’s not just me, many feel this way. The nuances vary, but the core issues are the same. Can it be reformed? I’m not sure. I think change can only come through education, not time. It’s like a wave; it’s already here and it’s growing. Maybe a natural disaster will come again and force people to rethink their behaviour. That might be what it takes.