My name is Bas Van De Poel. Together with Astin le Clercq, I co-founded Modem, an office for design and innovation.

Modem is a hybrid between a think tank and a design studio. Within our think tank, we anticipate the effects of new and emerging technologies and then formulate a response within our design studio. Given the exponential rate at which technology evolves, we saw the need for a model that isn’t just about output but also continuous input. Unlike most studios, Modem has a set expiration date—on January 1, 2030, it will cease to exist. In that sense, it functions as a project in itself.

Modem officially launched in 2021, but the vision and approach were developed in 2020, as we first needed to establish the framework.

We’re experiencing a moment of global turbulence, where political, environmental, and technological forces are rapidly redefining culture and society. After the initial shock of recent events, I now feel a sense of determination to actively shape alternative futures.

My entry into design was driven by visual culture. Watching early Aphex Twin videos directed by Chris Cunningham opened up an entirely new world of artistic expression and aesthetics. It rewired my perception of what was possible—and acceptable—in visual culture. In many ways, Cunningham’s work planted the first seeds.

It came much later, actually. Before founding Modem, I was Creative Director at SPACE10, a research and design lab that became my spiritual university. It profoundly shaped me—not just as a person, but in how I perceive and engage with the world through my practice.

I’m not entirely sure I agree with that statement—it really depends on the context. France, for example, has been a major force in fashion innovation, while Denmark has led the conversation in food, with places like Noma redefining the industry. Many European countries share a strong culture of innovation and aesthetic sensibility, which might explain why European studios are in demand by American companies.

The pandemic played a key role in shaping the vision behind Modem. We observed how the pandemic accelerated the increasing digitalization of our lives. It highlighted our growing dependence—not just on digital infrastructure for services, but also for communication and entertainment. We saw how digital systems were playing an ever-larger role in shaping our everyday reality. The thesis we developed during that time was that, eventually, the physical and digital will merge into a singular reality. The name Modem is a direct homage to the device that translates analog signals into digital ones and vice versa. At its core, Modem exists to negotiate the tension between physical and digital reality.

Typography is something we care about deeply. One of our briefs focused on creating a typographic style that adapts to custom situations, especially when there’s room for creative expression. That led us to Neue Montreal from Pangram Pangram, which Antoine proposed. At the same time, we needed a practical solution for client presentations, which we typically create in Google Slides. For that, we chose Helvetica—universally supported and reliable, even if it feels a bit expected at times.

I was born in 1986—the same year the first computer virus was released into the wild. From an early age, I was immersed in digital technology and fortunate to have a computer at home. I got my first one at four, starting with an Atari before moving on to MS-DOS, Windows 3.1, 3.11, and eventually Windows 95. By the time I was nine or ten, I was already exploring Linux, and programming in BASIC. At ten or eleven, I began developing websites just as the internet was taking off. Thanks to my father, an early adopter, we were among the first in the Netherlands to have internet access. Being so close to the digital evolution profoundly shaped me and my practice. I was influenced by everything from custom Winamp skins to the aesthetics of illegal warez sites and 3D game engines. That exposure shaped my perspective. My early focus was on technology, but over time, my interests expanded into graphic design, and later into fashion, architecture, industrial design, and other creative fields.

I’m an avid book collector and draw inspiration from a wide range of subjects. In design and innovation, we’re not creating entirely new things—we’re building on what already exists, whether in technology, fashion, architecture, or the intersection of physical and digital realities, combining ideas and references in new ways. As technology becomes more wearable and seamlessly integrated into everyday life, fashion plays a key role in shaping how we interact with it. Technology should feel like an accessory, not just a device. Likewise, as spatial computing evolves and technology takes on a more physical presence, architecture becomes increasingly relevant—it has always been about designing how we engage with space in three dimensions. Architects have been thinking about this for centuries. That’s why I believe it’s more important than ever to draw from a diverse range of influences and disciplines.

If you are operating in the field we are in - dealing with technology evolving so rapidly - you need to create a space for thinking about the implications of these developments, reflecting on them, and forming an opinion or posture around them. So yes, it was a very conscious decision to structure Modem as a hybrid design studio from day one.

Research is fundamental to our studio. I find it strange when design studios focus solely on output without meaningful input. As design becomes increasingly automated, developing a distinct studio posture is more crucial than ever—one shaped by intent rather than dictated by external forces.

It is part of the model, but it is also deeply ingrained in the way we work. We don’t treat research projects we initiate within the studio any differently from client projects—both deserve the same level of attention and time. We also owe it to our clients, as they come to us specifically for this approach. This mindset directly informs our client work—because we are continuously investigating relevant themes, we can offer more considered solutions.

From a financial perspective on running a studio, you should be compensated fairly—not just for your time, but for your mind. If you’re paid by the hour, it fails to account for the research and experience you’ve compounded over the years. You’re compensated for the time you spend in the present moment, but not for the investments you’ve made earlier.

Or take Jeff Mills, for example—he’s been spinning records since his early teens. It’s reasonable for him to command a high fee for a two-hour set, not just for the time he’s on stage, but for the decades he’s spent researching, honing his craft, and shaping techno culture. It’s only fair that he’s compensated for that depth of work and expertise.

I’m always interested in how other creative entities run their businesses. Pentagram is an interesting example, especially with its partnership model. OMA is another great reference, particularly with its research arm, AMO, which operates as a distinct entity from the main studio. Amsterdam has seen a series of nightclubs with predetermined end dates, such as the legendary Trouw, Club 11, and more recently, De School. I’ve been to those closing nights, and the energy unleashed in those final months is incredible. That intense push at the end has definitely inspired us to consider incorporating an end date into Modem.

Chasing clients, being persistent, developing a thick skin, and dealing with rejection—basically, that’s part of the process. Large entities can seem impersonal and difficult to reach, but at the end of the day, they’re made up of people like you and me, working in design, innovation or R&D departments. They’re also interested in culture and new ideas. If you put interesting work out there, clients will come—at least to some extent. You still need to chase them, don’t get me wrong, but having a distinct vision and set of beliefs that define your studio is just as important. In the end, I believe clients choose to work with you at least 50% for your past work and 50% for the experience and personality you bring.

It depends on the business cycle. Last year, we were doing more of the chasing, but now we’re in the fortunate position of being chased.

We for sure have a framework in place for it, but the content is always tailored to each brief and client.

Having a vision is the most important part, along with having a framework in place that supports that vision. Then, I would say strategy is basically the steps you take to realize that vision. For me, it is not that complicated because it is about following your intuition. If you like something or dislike something, it is a very clear signal, and that should be the strategy in a way. Through experience, you develop a stronger intuition. And it is important to know—for yourself, your clients, the company, and the people working with you—that the vision is clear because that gives a sense of trust and direction. Then, it doesn’t really matter if you take this step or that step, as long as you reach that vision.

The vision is to outline the blueprint for what a contemporary design studio should be amidst times of exponential change. How do you develop a resilient studio model in the chaos of the present? Ultimately, we would love to open source and share our approach, learnings, and thinking for that blueprint by 2030, hopefully in the form of a publication, a book, so our learnings can be shared freely with the community. But it is difficult to say at this point what I or others will be doing by 2030, because comparing the world today to five years ago, it is a completely different place. And it will only accelerate, things are moving faster, from the global climate crisis to technological advancements, geopolitical tensions and the sheer volume of information being distributed and consumed.

With AI researchers predicting that in the next three to five years we may reach artificial general intelligence (AGI), where AI matches human cognitive abilities, we are approaching a future where AI agents could take on a significant share of digital tasks. That would represent an economic singularity: imagine 50% of the global workforce, working digitally, suddenly augmented by these agents. This would have profound implications on social structures, the economy, and the social political system. Predicting the future has always been tricky, but it is even harder now because it is difficult to look even two years beyond.

More than ever, the value lies in being human. The human experience has been hard-coded into our DNA for the last 50,000 years. While culture and technology move at an exponential pace, our biological beings progress much more slowly. Experiences that are deeply human, like community, gatherings, travel, or food culture, will remain valuable, they are irreplaceable by digital technology. There will likely be a huge rise in craftsmanship or artisanal practices because people will pay a premium for goods made by human hands. Even though machines can create more advanced designs, the spirit of an object created by a human will be priceless in comparison.

We like being independent. Setting an end date goes against capitalist logic—it rejects the pursuit of long-term value accumulation through reputation, a portfolio, or client networks, knowing that by 2030, all of it will dissolve. This mindset reinforces Modem’s autonomy. It exists as a project in its own right, deliberately faceless. The focus is on the work, not the people behind it.

There’s an interesting dynamic in competition—studios can genuinely appreciate and champion one another, yet an underlying tension always exists. It’s about working together, and we believe we’re all part of the same community. In fact, we actively seek collaboration with people we admire, respect, and look up to. Collaboration is fundamental to Modem. We often work with what might traditionally be considered ‘competition’ because that’s how you grow, learn, and improve. This applies to both client projects and self-initiated research.

When it comes to pitches, I think we can all agree that, ethically, they’re far from ideal. In a perfect world, we wouldn’t take part in them, but economic realities don’t always allow for such a critical stance. Asking people to invest time, thought, and effort without financial compensation is an inherently unfair concept. We could easily have an entire discussion on why pitching is flawed. At the same time, it’s important to recognize that refusing to participate is a privilege—not everyone has the luxury to take that position.

All of us at Modem.

Six.

The initial direction came from Astin and me, but everyone at Modem has a strong sense of both aesthetics and storytelling. Some team members take the lead on certain aspects more than others, but overall, it remains a collective effort. I believe communication should ultimately be an expression of your vision, so that’s what shapes it.

It’s a matter of ego. If you look at our Instagram account, we don’t follow anyone—not even the two founders. The initial seed for Modem came from Astin and me, but it’s truly a shared project. The people at Modem contribute to it. Our collaborators contribute to it. Our clients contribute to it. So if we were to feature anyone, it would be all of us.

That’s not the point—the story is still unfolding. It all depends on the perspective you take. From a business development standpoint, you might be right, but it’s a more radical statement to publish it once we shut down, or in the final year. Some assume we’d continue if a major project came along in 2029, but that’s not the case. If financial gain were the priority, our decisions would look very different. Financial stability matters in bringing the vision to life, but it’s not the driving force.

The irony is that your work in developments media is actively training future models using the content and knowledge generated through this interview series. In the process, you’re not only inspiring future generations working with these models but also shaping the algorithms and systems that will help shape the future.

Hiring is one of the biggest challenges. We look for polymaths—people with diverse interests who can connect ideas across disciplines. Innovation at Modem comes from combining references from multiple fields, so that mindset is essential. At the same time, with a small team, personality and cultural fit are just as important. Finding the right people isn’t easy, but when someone aligns with both our approach and philosophy, we bring them on without hesitation.

AI will reshape the creative field, much like the graphical user interface once transformed design. But design has only grown in relevance, and AI will likely follow the same path—becoming another tool rather than replacing the discipline. In fact, it will lead to the democratization and escalation of creativity, expanding access and augmenting human capabilities in art and design. Take filmmaking, for example. Producing a film has traditionally been expensive, limiting access to only a select few. With AI, anyone can create a film. Of course, this will lead to more low-quality work, but it will also increase the overall level of talent by removing hierarchical barriers. A similar shift happened with digital music production—what once required expensive equipment is now widely accessible, and as a result, more great music is being made. Teenagers are producing incredible beats that would have been unthinkable in previous generations.

However, accessibility alone isn’t enough. It’s still crucial to research the original sources, study the craft, and put in the hours to understand what makes something truly innovative or meaningful. As tools become more powerful and accessible, the strength of an idea and the clarity of a vision become even more critical. Developing a unique artistic or strategic perspective will matter more than ever.

That will definitely happen. But computers are already better than humans at chess, yet we don’t watch computers play—we watch humans. Similarly, robots can outperform athletes in certain Olympic events, but we’re not drawn to that either. What makes human performance compelling, whether in sports or design, is its randomness and unpredictability. So yes, there will be studios entirely run by machines, but the vision, the spirit, and the driving force behind the practice will remain critical.

It’s fascinating to think that my five-year-old daughter already has GPT-4o as her baseline. She interacts with it naturally through voice interfaces, and by the time she’s a teenager, engaging with machine intelligence will be second nature to her. For us, we had the advantage of developing intuition and building experience without AI as an immediate tool. For today’s students, the challenge is to integrate these technologies while still developing real-world experience, conducting field research, and shaping a distinct vision and approach to their work. Interestingly, rare books and traditional publications are becoming even more valuable. Unlike digital content, these sources haven’t been extensively trained into AI models, making them repositories of deeper, more exclusive knowledge.

Unless the vision or concept behind the logo is an ever-evolving design that adapts to its environment, its flexibility isn’t inherently important. In that case, however, it becomes significant. The MIT Media Lab logo, for instance, continuously evolves and adapts. Many of these ideas were conceptualized years ago—it’s just that now, executing them has become much easier.

I think being in the ’80s or early ’90s, when electronic music was emerging, would have been an amazing time to participate in and contribute to that culture.

I think Caps Lock: How Capitalism Took Hold of Graphic Design, and How to Escape from It by Ruben Pater is a great read. The idea that design is inherently tied to capitalism is both refreshing and important to understand, especially when considering the role of the design studio.

I’m also fond of Zumthor’s Atmospheres, which explores the sensory and emotional qualities of space. Another favorite is Inoue Tsuguya: Graphic Works 1981–2007, a monolithic collection of the art director’s work, including his campaigns for Comme des Garçons.

I might be a bit biased, having worked with Dekmantel for the past decade, overseeing art direction for both their festival and label. That has played a significant role in shaping my influences. I’d also say that almost anything coming from Warp Records has been a major inspiration.