Lionel Jadot, the politician of crafts

Since June 1970, the building of the former Royale Belge insurance company has been as distinctive in the Brussels cityscape as the Atomium itself. A mass of weathered steel and bronze-tinted glass—54,000 square meters in surface area, almost 51 meters high—designed three years earlier by the Belgian René Stapels (in his country, if he is a functionalist or postmodernist, the construction surely bears his stamp) and the Frenchman Pierre Dufau (the architect in charge of the reconstruction of Amiens after the Second World War) as the headquarters of the insurance company. And so it served for almost half a century, with its brutal geometry dominating Souverain Boulevard, until, in 2018, it lost its function. The US diplomatic corps then considered it for an embassy move, but as there was no way to protect such a glass jungle, they ended up giving up. Two years later, the hotel businessman Jean-Michel André had his eye on it and saw it clearly: this had to be the definitive Brussels destination, the jewel in the crown of his hotel chain, The Limited Edition, which inaugurated the Monty Small Design in 2002. It had 18 rooms. The new suckler mother, Mix, is 180.

Opened last July, Mix more than responds to the current experience of overnight stays in a sociocultural key and accommodation as a lifestyle. Calling it a hotel is an understatement: rooms and suites In addition, the mole houses three restaurants (operated by the French group Moma), a spa/health and beauty center, a gym for 4,000 members, a shared work space, meeting and conference rooms and a food market gargantuan on the ground floor with a dozen food, coffee and bar stalls spread over 1,800 square meters (Fox, “fox”, they have baptized it, in reference to the reddish brown tone of the façade). And what is that only a four star. In total, nearly 25,000 square meters of the cruciform-shaped building have been used, renovated by a team of architects made up of the London studio Caruso St John and the local Bovenbouw Architectuur, DDS+ and MA2. However, no one talks about the outside anymore. Now, everyone wants to know the inside.

It has been said: Mix is ​​not decorated, it is sculpted. “The idea was to create something totally different, so different that from the moment you set foot on the lobby you perceive that nothing is normal,” explains Lionel Jadot, the ideologist of everything within the hotel/hospitality complex, a genuine resort urban. Calling him an interior architect is also an understatement: craftsman and artist (he has even made his first steps as a filmmaker, with two short films directed), here is a self-made guy who has not lost an iota of his adventurous spirit at 53 years old: “ Undertaking a project of such magnitude is a very crazy adventure, but that's the fun, right?” Like all Brussels residents, Jadot was aware of the great functionalist silhouette that outlines the city's southern horizon line – as a child he passed by it every Friday, in his mother's car on the way to his grandmother's house, he remembers – but he Its real dimension escaped him. “A big part of my job is facing challenges and solving problems,” he concedes. “And I love finding solutions. At the end of the day, that's what life is,” he concludes.

Taking charge of the interior of the Mix has allowed him, in any case, to put into practice his theory that design is also politics. “Everything in it, from the furniture to the purely decorative elements, has been conceived, worked on and produced within a 55 kilometer radius. There is nothing commissioned or ordered outside, that comes from China,” he reveals. Before the beauty, the extravagance, the modernity or even the more or less famous authorship of the pieces, what has generated headlines of admiration has been the participation of fifty local artisan artists. This is, of course, a declaration of intentions by Jadot in the face of the digitally exacerbated hospitality aesthetic accompaniment, interior design. instragameable, the absence of inspiration, decorative cheapness and obsolescence, red lines that he encourages his team not to cross. “We try to make our projects have soul, so that it is perceived that there are real people involved. For me it is very important that there is a story behind the thousands of elements that make up a space, which are thousands of stories that I feel the need to share. Design is a communication tool,” she says. And he continues: “It is easy to lose perspective with such monumental commissions and forget about the small details capable of creating something as intangible as an atmosphere. I try not to let them escape me, because those little things, be it the shape of a lamp or the choice of a material, are what make you smile and say 'ah, it's good to be here'. That is my philosophy in terms of hospitality.”

The small wooden stools that seem to reproduce like mushrooms throughout the hotel are the work of Thomas Serruys, from his cabinet shop in Bruges. In the rooms, the sculptural mirrors by Adeline Halot, who spins metal as if it were woven, and the hanging lamps by Roxane Lahidji, more about working minerals, shine. The side tables are originals by industrial designer Pierre-Emmanuel Vandeputte, while the curtains and hangers were custom made by Erika Schillebeeckx and Justine de Moriamé, creators of the KRJST studio. Maison Jonckers, in which siblings Alexandra and Grégoire continue the legacy of their father, the sculptor Armand Jonckers, contributes the brass-paneled reception desk. In it lobby You can also admire the large-scale sculpture in blackened iroko wood by Arno Declercq and the monolithic fireplace by Jadot himself, who also contributes the whimsical wooden chairs located in the lobby and bar (in collaboration with Chair Doctor) and the bathroom taps and door handles (co-designed and produced by Fonderie Woit, a leading metallurgical company in Liège since 1946). What matters: none of these works are commissioned, but rather creative proposals/solutions from each artisan. “It is a totally horizontal collaboration. So much so that the workshops and artisans invoiced their work directly to the hotel, not to me. There have been no intermediaries or third parties, which is why everything is so pure. Money is used to pay for imagination, and the hotel owners consider it an investment, because they also know that if something needs to be changed or repaired, they have its creators nearby. Although artisan work is made to last,” explains Jadot, who nevertheless admits a certain degree of chaos and improvisation in his artistic-labor process.

What is no coincidence is that 17 of the 52 “design wizards” involved are part of Zaventem Ateliers, the arts and crafts complex—a reformulation of the medieval craft guild society—in which Jadot crystallized his idea of ​​creation. in community for almost seven years. Located in a 19th-century paper factory on the outskirts of Brussels, it houses around thirty workshops, with permanent residence, while another 24 local artisans take advantage of the communal facilities to work. More than a group, a family. “The intention is to share, whether ideas, experiences, contacts or know-how. It is important to preserve and transmit this knowledge because, if it is lost, part of the soul of your country also disappears,” he concedes. Sixth generation of the Vanhamme clan, cabinet-making artisans whose furniture has been the favorite of the Belgian royal house since 1895, he learned his lesson as a child, tinkering in the family workshop, which he took over at the age of 18, after the sudden death of his mother: “Suddenly I found myself in charge of a team of 35 people, and thus I understood why the job must be respected. Also, being able to do something with your hands is a source of pride.” His father works alongside him in Zaventem today: “He is still there, at 79 years old, taking care of the finishing of the pieces.” However, his hopes are in the new generations. “Technology, artificial intelligence, may change the way we use our creativity, but the young people I see around me want to organize their lives in a different way,” he says. “And they know that working with your hands is one of the few things that is still real.”

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