Sabine Marcelis is a Rotterdam-based artist and designer whose practice spans objects, furniture, lighting, installations and spatial design, united by a sustained investigation into how materials behave under light. Working with resin, glass, stone and polished surfaces, she is known for sculptural forms, nuanced colour and atmospheric effects that make transparency, reflection, opacity and shadow feel active rather than decorative.
In this conversation, the designer reflects on transforming historic jewels through contemporary colour, light and materiality for the design of the CARTIER: Melbourne Winter Masterpieces® 2026 exhibition, and shares insights into her forthcoming exhibition Axis at Gallery Sally Dan-Cuthbert which explores rotation, perception and materiality through sculptural forms organised around a single defining gesture.
Let's begin by talking about the exhibition design for CARTIER: Melbourne Winter Masterpieces® 2026. What was it like to be approached for a project of this scale? You've collaborated with brands before, but not in quite this way.
When they first asked me to work on the exhibition, I thought, I don't have this skill set. But I said I would do it if we worked together with Paul from CLOUD, because it felt much more like an architectural exercise. We had collaborated on scenography before, including a designed space at Alcova during Salone in Milan two years ago.
It was a very organic process because we know what we're good at and what we're not, and our skill sets complement one another. From the beginning, it was clear where CLOUD and Paul would lead, and where my studio and I would lead. The massing of the spatial volumes came from CLOUD, while the materiality and colours were very much defined by me.
How do you bring those things together with the V&A and Cartier and NGV and how does that meld?
There's a lot of chefs in the kitchen, obviously, but I think it's also nice to be creative within a lot of constraints.
Constraint is a good thing, isn't it?
Yes. I feel like if everything's possible, it's actually harder to do a project. I think what you were saying about the mounts, there were only a few items that were able to be presented on a volume rather than pinned on the eco panel. But I do feel that that also creates for some hierarchy in that space. We have that really big solid block of resin underneath the snake necklace (commissioned by the actress Maria Felix), and I do feel like if we put the resin everywhere, it wouldn't have been so impressive. I think that it allowed for some hierarchy also.
That's interesting, that word, hierarchy, because the snake is sort of anomalous I find in the show compared with all the other things. It has this extraordinary artistic sculptural quality that's quite different to anything else, but also the plinth makes it look so contemporary. It becomes like an artwork. Is that something you were thinking about?
For sure. I think it is such a duality, and it makes so much sense for us to do the scenography for Cartier because jewels and gemstones come alive with light, and that is exactly how I work. But if you take that aspect out of it and just look at my work and Cartier, they are from very different eras, especially because many of these are historical pieces. We did not want the show to have a historical atmosphere or feel dark. The mission was to bring it into a contemporary setting and showcase it in a very different way.
Because also we forget that at the time those gems were made, they were contemporary. It's very contemporary. Your design is a reminder that this jewellery was contemporary at the time, and it makes sense for it to be shown in this kind of modern way.
Were you involved in how the tiaras were presented? They appear almost to float, which must have been quite a challenge.
I think it was really nice the tiaras because they already had those vitrines that were also used at the V&A. Again, we were working within a restriction: these are the vitrines. Then the question became how to make it feel like a grand finale, working with the roundness of the space, and how to let people take a minute before they exit the exhibition. We put in this huge sofa and the light is changing colour gradually, so it's quite a dynamic space.
What about the colour palette? I loved the yellow carpet, though I imagine it has a more precise name than that. What was your thinking there?
The colour palette was crucial, and we spent a great deal of time refining it. There were moments when we thought it was finalised, only to discover that certain carpets were no longer available. That meant rethinking multiple rooms, because I always consider colour as a complete composition.
Even a subtle shift in one shade can affect the balance of everything around it. The palette is present throughout the entrance and exit, and there is always one colour that feels slightly unexpected and creates a moment of surprise. That instinct comes from intuition, but it is informed by knowledge and experience.
Moving from CARTIER: Melbourne Winter Masterpieces® 2026 to your upcoming exhibition at Gallery Sally Dan-Cuthbert, what was the thinking behind this new body of work?
These works are quite different from what I've done before, and I like that over the past few years I've been on a constant rollercoaster of projects, moving from one thing to the next, and it can be difficult to find the time to pause and develop something entirely new. Some of the works are made from Japanese lacquerware, and we travelled to Japan to work directly with the craftspeople.
How amazing!
It was amazing. I have so much respect for them because this is also a work of patience. It involves so many layers applied on top of timber, and if there is a slight imperfection, you almost have to start over again. These pieces also really change over time. When I first saw this piece, it was basically completely black. I asked, “Wasn’t it supposed to be this burgundy colour?” and they said, “It needs time to get there.” I love that it is a living, breathing thing that changes. The challenge for me is that I am always working with transparency and how light can infiltrate a material, and there is no transparency with lacquerware. The question became how to make objects that are still activated by light, but in a very different way. It was about creating surfaces that bounce the light in as many ways as possible, not unlike how a gem is cut, but with more focus on rounded curves so the light almost glides over the surface. This is the same typology of shape, but changing the material and surface finish shows how different the whole object becomes.
With the resin pieces, the light as you move around them really bounces off the surface. I wanted to, without having that transparency or even integrated lighting, still have them be super dynamic through the ambient light around. The resin is super matte. If you see this in person, you almost don't even see that line because it absorbs all the light. It's kind of hard to even focus on the depth of it. And then again, when you move around, you notice, oh, there's actually three dimensionality. I really love playing with that perception.
Coming back to the Japanese lacquerware, how did you find those craftspeople to work with?
I was really lucky because I was invited by a Japanese cultural initiative that links international designers with local craftspeople. It is amazing, and I think it is also very necessary because this craft is disappearing. The company I worked with has existed for generations, but even within one generation there has been a dramatic change: the current owner’s father had 80 employees, while he now has nine. It is partly a matter of demand, because there are many cheap plastic alternatives, but there is also less interest among the next generation in becoming craftspeople. His children are not interested in carrying on the business. I think that is so sad, especially in this age of AI. I hope that initiatives like this help people see these pieces and understand how important lacquerware is, and why we should not lose it as a craft.
So how do you actually make lacquerware? I've never really understood the process.
They tap resin from a tree, then mix it with a specific pigment. It is 100% natural and applied in very thin layers; I think there are about 30 layers on those works. Their usual business is rice bowls, and the material is naturally antibacterial, which makes it perfect for food and helps it last so long. They are used to making small pieces, but these works were extremely ambitious because they required long strokes over a ridge, so the process was very demanding.
Did you try doing it yourself?
Yes. It also gives you so much more respect. It's not a matter of putting on nail polish. You need years and years of experience.
Absolutely fascinating. I'm curious to know, you worked in this natural medium, lacquerware, but also in resin. So, tell me about those two different approaches.
I am very specialised in resin, and we have a workshop where we continuously work with the material. But I am not greenwashing resin. It is not the greatest material because it comes from fossil fuel, but because we have worked with it for so long and keep demanding a higher bio percentage from the supplier, we received a sample two months ago of a 99% bio-based resin. As many projects as possible will be made from that resin from now on.
And does it perform in the same way?
The only thing is that the base colour is already a bit red, so you would never be able to do blues. It has restrictions in terms of which colours can be implemented, but other than that it is pretty similar to the 60% bio-based resin we use now. Material choice is very linked to the context of a project. My resin pieces are always limited editions or one-offs; they are not something you buy and throw away. They are either editions of eight or unique pieces. I have often been asked by bigger furniture brands to create works in resin, and I have always said I would never do that in that context. It is not a material for mass production. It has to stay within the realm of an investment piece that lasts forever. When I was working with Ikea, I was also adamant that everything needed to be glass or metal, not plastic. As a designer, you have that responsibility and power, and I do not take that lightly.
Do you think you'll make more lacquerware?
Yes. I can imagine them at a much larger scale. The gesture is simple but powerful, and it interacts beautifully with light. It does what I'm always interested in doing: showcasing the material itself, with the form serving that purpose.
I've been working increasingly on public artworks, and I can see these pieces evolving in that direction as well, perhaps as large-scale wall works.
Your work is so interesting because it sits at this juncture, between design and art and you seem to completely straddle those worlds perfectly, but is it an interesting place to be in? Do you feel like sometimes you're compelled to explain yourself? Do you feel like people are more now, it's an object and now it is design, but also art?
I think it depends on the context. I feel fortunate that I have never really bought into the idea that this is what I do and it has to be neatly packaged. At the beginning of my studio, I was told that what I did was confusing because sometimes it was architecture-related, sometimes it was a small object, and sometimes it was a larger public artwork. But I think there is still a very clear thread. It is a way of thinking, being creative, working with materials and getting the most out of them. I do not know any other way to work. I think the way to stay fresh and inspired is to work across different things and learn from them. I recently did an installation at Coachella, which was very different: it was inflatable, very large and temporary, so I wanted to use as few materials as possible and let air become the volume. It was also important to learn how to communicate with a completely different audience—and with a lot of people at once.
And to make it robust. Was that a challenge as well?
Yes! If people see something inflatable, they immediately think it's a jumping castle. Thankfully, it survived. I love being able to work across different disciplines and collaborate with people who are exceptional at what they do. I'm currently working on a listening space in New York, where I've designed the lighting, DJ table and VIP booths. At the same time, I'm working alongside experts in acoustics, which forces me to think about what my contribution adds to—or takes away from—the listening experience. I love learning from other people.
