SMYTHSON MEETS: CHARLES YOUNG

The paper artist on architectural precision, patience, and the joy of hand-making.

Paper sits at the very heart of who we are; it underpins our craft. That shared connection to the material made working with Edinburgh-based paper artist Charles Young a natural fit.

Having trained in architecture at Edinburgh College of Art, Charles began making miniatures as part of his master’s degree – a practice that evolved into Paperholm, a 1,000-day project building a diminutive paper metropolis. Hand-cut from watercolour paper and assembled using a needle and PVA glue, his tiny structures are brought to life through delicate stop-motion animations.

IN CONVERSATION WITH CHARLES YOUNG

What is it about paper as a material that keeps you coming back to it?

There is something so simple, but so versatile about paper. It’s a humble material that’s around you all the time, but can be manipulated into a great variety of forms. 

Your craft takes real time and care. What does that slower pace bring to your day-to-day work?

You need to be aware of the time things take and allow for it. When you’re layering paper and card, you’re stuck with the drying time of the glue—if you rush, you risk warping the flat pieces. Really, you just need to embrace that pace, work on something else in parallel, or use the time to think. That’s the part that’s most often overlooked: if you’re constantly working flat out, you won’t have the space to think about what comes next.

You studied architecture; how does that background shape your work beyond structural design?

As well as encouraging you to look at buildings with a different focus, you start to understand the connection between the three dimensions and the two dimensions in a natural way. Being able to picture how an object looks as a plan means you can easily visualise how to recreate it from flat pieces.

Where do you get your inspiration from?

Whenever I’m out, I’m looking around for details in the built environment. Much of my work in paper is inspired by architecture and, in the city, that's something that you’re constantly surrounded by if you take the time to stop and look.

Where did the idea for Paperholm come from, and why did you decide to work on such a small scale?

I started Paperholm to keep making something every day after I finished my studies. Using skills I had developed for scale models of university projects, I began crafting small paper structures. Working in plain white paper, I could sit down and finish a piece within a couple of hours. Over the course of three years, I ended up making 1,000 daily additions. It’s a great way to develop your skills – taking a bit of time every day, whether it’s convenient or not.

What is the most challenging aspect of maintaining such a disciplined practice?

When you commit to a daily project, it becomes a responsibility. At its heart, you have to want to do it. Some days you might not have a great idea or much time, but you still have to make something. It’s also important to balance fine-scale work by stepping back; I often complement my small paper models with larger-scale woodwork, which requires far more planning ahead of time. With small-scale paper, I can often just improvise from a sketchy idea.

Out of all the models you've built for Paperholm, is there one in particular that stands out as a favourite or a real challenge?

There are so many that it’s difficult to pick out individual pieces! Initially I had them all laid out together, but soon there were too many, and I had to store them in custom boxes. When I do get them out again, most recently for an exhibition in the Netherlands, I’m always surprised by the size and details. You see how your techniques have evolved over time and that you’re always learning and finding better ways of making.

Walk us through the journey from concept to finished piece. Do you sketch and plan on paper first, or do you prefer to go directly into three dimensions?

For my colour-combination works, I start with a small pen sketch of an idea – it might not be how it looks in the end, but it captures the core idea. Next, I print the colours onto one side of the paper and draw straight onto the unprinted side with pencil to mark out the structural elements. I cut these out by hand with a surgical scalpel, and attach each piece along the edges using glue applied with the tip of a needle. This process is repeated until the structure comes together. At some point you will have to decide that it’s finished.

What does your desk look like in the middle of a project, and what are the essential tools you couldn't work without?

I have to have a clear-out every so often to manage the piles of leftover paper that build up during a project; if I’m not careful, my work area starts to get smaller and smaller. Over the years, I’ve accumulated a set of tools that I like to use: watchmaking tweezers, a stainless steel surgical scalpel, small steel rulers, an adapted bookbinding needle for applying glue, and an array of pieces of wood for curving or straightening the paper.

Stop-motion gives your paper structures such a distinct sense of life. Did you plan to incorporate animation from the start?

The movement came early on when I made a Paperholm structure on top of a pebble that could spin on its base. I decided to try making a short GIF animation of the piece spinning, and this led to the realisation that I could add life to my work. It became something that I would try and build in, seeing what the limits were to the mechanisms I could build out of paper to allow me to animate movement.

You usually work with watercolour paper; how was it working with our writing paper instead?

It was great to work with Smythson writing paper for this project, making it so that everything you see – from the background colour to the envelope – is Smythson. The paper is super smooth, giving you a really solid colour. While it’s lighter than the watercolour paper I typically use, it cuts so cleanly that I was still able to create really fine details.