Where Nature Meets the Human-Made

Estudio Material
San Francisco, USA

The Art of Redefining Refuse

The Bio

Founded in San Francisco by Mexico City–born artist and designer Damaso Mayer, Estudio Material is a creative practice that bridges the organic and the industrial. Drawing on a background in industrial design, architecture, and landscape architecture, Mayer reimagines conventional design through material exploration and sustainable practices.

Shaped by a childhood split between his mother’s organic farm and his father’s fabrication workshop, his work celebrates contrasts — raw and refined, found and manufactured — to create timeless, context-driven designs that honor both nature and the built environment.

Get in touch with us if any inquiries into Estudio Material’s work

Get In Touch

The Products

- FRAGMENTS Basalt Bench
- Price on request
- Estudio Material
- Hybrid Object Small
- 2.190 EUR
- Estudio Material
- ex. VAT
- Hybrid Objects Large
- 2.480 EUR
- Estudio Material
- ex. VAT
- FRAGMENTS Center Table
- Price on request
- Estudio Material

The Conversation

You grew up between a farm and a factory — earth and metal. How did that contrast shape who you are, not just what you make?

Perhaps it helped me see things from the outside, meaning I was never embedded into one environment enough to assume it as ‘normal’. This put me in the position of an observer more than a participant and gave me the freedom to find interest in different elements of each place. To this day I can’t say I am an expert at something and I don't think I want to be. I’m very comfortable with change and I believe that translates in my work, for better or for worse I don't get fixated on a specific result, I try to adapt and be open to the unexpected along the process.

When you’re working with a material, do you ever feel like it’s resisting you — teaching you something about yourself?

Materials want to resist, I don't mean it in a melodramatic way but it's not their nature to be what we use them for and most undergo extensive manipulation before we encounter them. I try to work with that resistance, to preserve some of the material’s original essence. It’s not an act of criticism but of curiosity. I’m interested in the material’s “in-between” state — when traces of what it was and hints of what it could become coexist. I find the expression of this timeline — past, present, and possible future — both visually and conceptually fascinating, and it’s something that often disappears once a material is fully processed.

There’s always tension in your work — between softness and steel, chaos and control. What are you trying to reconcile?

Sometimes to appreciate a form, material, or texture we need to see it out of context or in contrast with something significantly different. In a factory, it’s easy to overlook the precision of a metal plate because it belongs there. The same happens with stone in a rocky landscape. Each feels ordinary in its own environment. By bringing these materials together, stripped of heavy formal gestures, they highlight and complement each other in an almost soothing way. In my mind they shift from ordinary to quietly precious.

You’ve said you like when something feels “wrong.” What does imperfection mean to you on a personal level?

Imperfection is not something I intentionally try to create but something I fully embrace. Natural materials are in essence imperfect, whether its the veining on marble or the uneven form of a branch, these differences are what make them unique. I find imperfection far more engaging than something completely resolved, it allows me to think about what I am looking at and have a deeper interaction with the object, whether positive or negative. Within my work I tend to play with both ends of the spectrum — manufactured materials maintaining their precision and natural materials expressing their raw irregular character.

Do you think materials hold memory — and if so, how do you listen to what they’re trying to tell you?

I do believe materials hold memory, whether manufactured or natural, but materials such as stone or wood have the ability to prompt deeper thoughts about their origin, native landscape, climate, exposure, geologic time. Beyond that, each carries its own history of processing, transport, and fabrication — traces of which often remain visible in the final piece. I look for materials that express that sense of time, process, and place.

What’s the next risk you want to take — in your work, or in your life?

For some time now, I’ve been drawn to large scale work and public art. Having worked on public projects as a design consultant, I was fascinated by the process — the dialogue with communities, the challenge of scale, and the responsibility of shaping shared space. I hope to bring that experience into my own practice in a more personal way.