Cultural Capital: How U.S. and Mexican Designers Are Building Bridges and Redefining Luxury

American designers travel south to collaborate with Mexico’s top artisans and creatives—discovering the true meaning of craftsmanship and why it matters now more than ever.

MEXICO CITY — The chair sat in the center of the room, unassuming at first glance. Made of dark, polished wood with a woven leather seat, it wasn’t ostentatious. It wasn’t trying to impress. But the longer I stared, the more it demanded my attention.

“These designs were almost lost, their stories fading with time, on the verge of disappearing. But design is memory, and by reviving them, we aren’t just preserving the past—we are shaping its future,” shares Juliette Frey, Director of Clásicos Mexicanos.

We were sitting inside Lago Algo, an avant-garde cultural space overlooking Chapultepec Park Lake, surrounded by some of Mexico’s most important designers and artisans. The lunch that afternoon—a spread of mole-laced dishes and freshly pressed tortillas—was punctuated by an impassioned panel discussion led by Clásicos Mexicanos, a design collective dedicated to reviving and preserving iconic Mexican furniture.

It was a chair, yes. But it was also a quiet warning—a testament to how easily history can disappear if we don’t fight to preserve it. Craft isn’t just about objects; it’s about memory, about the stories woven into wood, fabric, and stone.

That idea rippled through the rest of the trip. Over five days, 18 American designers moved through Mexico City—not as tourists, but as witnesses. They stepped into private ateliers, furniture workshops, art galleries, and design studios, where craftsmanship wasn’t some fading tradition but the heartbeat of modern innovation.

Design wasn’t the sole focus of this journey. Something bigger was at play. Economics shaped it. Politics influenced it. The experience challenged how we value labor, tradition, and collaboration in an industry fixated on speed.

Because at a time when trade wars and cultural divides fill the headlines, this trip revealed a different truth: when people create together, they build more than just objects. They build bridges. They build understanding. And that is something that lasts far beyond trends and transactions.

A City That Knows Itself

For Jim Warnock, founder of Dunes Design, Mexico City is the ultimate creative incubator—a metropolis that refuses to choose between the past and the future. It is a city where colonial facades stand beside cutting-edge architecture, where pre-Hispanic traditions inform contemporary design, where artisans and architects alike pull from centuries of history while forging something distinctly modern.

“It has a beautiful blend of sophistication and edge, formality and relaxation,” Warnock said over breakfast at Hotel Volga, a boutique hotel known for its commitment to contemporary Mexican design. The conversation drifted between topics—architecture, craft, sustainability—but his admiration for the city was clear. “It’s cosmopolitan, but it makes amazing use of its green spaces. The level of craftsmanship and respect for tradition give a story and meaning behind something simply being appropriate for a design project.”

That fusion of history and modernity became evident from the very first studio visit. Inside Daniel Orozco’s workshop, his newest furniture collection felt almost geological—pieces shaped by time, by hand, by forces both natural and human. There was nothing rushed or forced about his designs; they felt as though they had always existed, waiting to be uncovered.

“Mexican design is not just about aesthetics,” Orozco told us, watching as the designers ran their hands over the surfaces of his work. “It’s about memory.”

The group studied the carved wood, the woven textures, the unexpected interplay of rough and refined. Each detail bore the mark of the artisan, the subtle irregularities that proved a human hand had been there. Pamela Pennington of Pennington Studios took a step back, eyes tracing the organic lines of a chair. “You can see the human touch in every detail,” she said. “This is the kind of work that has soul.”

And in that moment, the trip’s purpose became unmistakable: this was not about design trends. It was about the people, the stories, the process.

The Art of Curation: How Design Tells a Story

Marcos Jassan, whose expertise in both architecture and cultural history shaped the experience, emphasized that the selection of studios, galleries, and workshops wasn’t just about showcasing great design—it was about telling a story.

“Design isn’t just about objects; it’s about context,” Jassan explained. “We wanted to show how Mexican designers are taking tradition and pushing it forward, making it relevant in a global conversation. You can’t appreciate the future of design without understanding where it comes from.” This philosophy guided every stop on the itinerary.

A Tour Through Mexico City’s Creative Vanguard

Mexico City’s design landscape is as layered as its history, and as the group moved from studio to studio, a clearer picture emerged: this was a place where craftsmanship was not just preserved, but actively redefined for the modern world.

“What struck me the most,” Chris Goddard of Goddard Design Group reflected, “was how design here isn’t just about aesthetics or function—it’s about storytelling. Every piece we saw carried a narrative, whether it was in the materials, the process, or the hands that shaped it. There’s an understanding here that craft isn’t just about making things—it’s about making meaning.”

At Estudio Roca, known for its commitment to sustainable materials and cutting-edge fabrication techniques, the designers saw how modern technology can be seamlessly integrated with traditional craftsmanship. A visit to Alfonso Marina, revealed that craftsmanship isn’t just a practice—it’s a family legacy. Founded over four decades ago by Alfonso Marina himself, the brand has remained a labor of love, now led by his daughters, Isabel and Lucia Marina. Walking through their showroom, the designers saw firsthand what that kind of dedication looks like: pieces that aren’t just designed to be beautiful, but to endure, to be passed down like treasured artifacts. “Our father always believed furniture should outlive trends,” Isabel shared. “It should have soul.”

And that soul is in the details—every carefully selected wood grain, every hand-carved embellishment, every finish perfected by artisans who have been honing their craft for decades. “Many people underestimate Mexico when it comes to fine craftsmanship,” Lucia added. “But the skills here? They rival the best in the world. We have artisans who have been doing this their entire lives, carrying forward techniques that have been passed down for generations. That kind of knowledge—it’s priceless.”

In a world obsessed with speed and mass production, Alfonso Marina is a reminder that true luxury isn’t about having more—it’s about creating things that truly last.

At Territorio Gallery, the group walked into a space that felt less like a showroom and more like a living conversation—one where Mexican design wasn’t just being preserved but reimagined. Here, emerging designers were pushing boundaries, blending experimental forms with unconventional materials to challenge the very idea of what functional design could be. Sculptural lighting, hand-carved furniture that doubled as art, textiles woven with unexpected textures—each piece carried a distinct energy, a bold declaration that craftsmanship in Mexico was anything but static.

Amaya Ducru, one of the gallery’s curators, put it best. “There’s a soul to the work created here,” she said. “It’s not just about making something beautiful—it’s about honoring the process, the materials, the hands that bring it to life. Whether it’s wood, metal, or woven fibers, you can feel the patience, the respect, the understanding of craft that’s been passed down through generations.”

That reverence was evident in every piece. At Territorio, designers weren’t just preserving heritage techniques; they were expanding them, bending tradition into new and unexpected forms. The gallery wasn’t just a place to admire—it was a space to rethink what Mexican craftsmanship could be, to witness a movement where history and innovation walked hand in hand.

The experience continued at OMR Art, one of Mexico’s most influential contemporary galleries, with a private viewing of Yann Gerstberger’s work—where the boundaries between art and design dissolved. His vibrant tapestries, crafted from reused mop heads, transformed everyday materials into richly textured, almost painterly compositions, creating a dialogue that felt both contemporary and timeless.

At EWE Studio, the group had a private viewing with Héctor Esrawe, where he shared his philosophy on honoring craft while pushing it forward. In the studio—a collective known for its sculptural approach to furniture and lighting—the conversation turned to how ancestral techniques can thrive in contemporary design.

Founded in 2017 by gallerist Age Salajõe and designers Manuel Bañó and Esrawe, EWE merges traditional craftsmanship with bold, modern forms, proving that Mexican heritage isn’t frozen in time—it’s alive, evolving, and shaping global design. The group also stepped inside Studio And Jacob, where tactile materials and minimalist aesthetics revealed a deep reverence for both process and materiality.

Finally, at Lørdåg Søndag, they met with Salvador Compañ, whose work embodies the philosophy that design should evoke emotion and connection, rather than simply serve a function.

Each visit reinforced the same truth: Mexican design is not only diverse and deeply rooted in history—it is boldly shaping the future of global aesthetics.

Why Economic Bridges Matter More Than Ever

But this trip wasn’t just about marveling at great design—it was about something deeper. It was about action.

As we wandered through the sun-drenched corridors of Casa Pedregal, Warnock paused, taking in the vibrant hues and striking geometry. Then, with the kind of conviction that comes from lived experience, he said, “When you start a business with someone in a foreign country, you’re not just making a deal—you’re forging a relationship. It forces you to adapt, to problem-solve together, to find common ground. And as we build economic bridges, we end up building something even more meaningful: cultural, personal, and even political connections.”

It was a reminder that design, like business, is never just about aesthetics—it’s about people and the bridges we build. Unexpected connections emerge along the way, shaping the creative process. Beyond blueprints and balance sheets, collaboration in a globalized world demands adaptability. It pushes us to problem-solve and find common ground. In the end, it’s not just about what we create, but how those creations bring us closer together.

Redefining Collaboration in Design

The United States and Mexico are deeply intertwined economic partners, yet in the world of art, craft, and design, their industries often operate in silos. American designers source “Mexican-inspired” pieces without ever meeting the artisans behind them. Mexican makers produce work that ends up in luxury homes, disconnected from the people who commissioned it. The result is a transactional relationship, not a true collaboration. This trip aimed to change that.

Here, designers weren’t just admiring beautiful objects. They were meeting the hands that shaped them and hearing their stories.This wasn’t about mindless inspiration or cultural cherry-picking. It was about appreciation with intention and building real relationships.These connections empowered both designers and artisans. The shift moved away from fleeting trends toward meaningful, long-term collaborations.

These collaborations not only supported artisans economically but also pushed the design industry toward a more ethical, sustainable future.And the impact? It’s already taking shape.

“We’ve had plenty of designers purchase pieces during their trips,” Warnock noted. “But the real success isn’t just what they take home—it’s what they continue to specify in their projects long after they leave. The goal is to build ongoing partnerships, where these artisans become not just a source of inspiration, but a lasting part of their design practice.”

At that moment, Marcos Jassan punctuated the conversation with an important observation: the role of the middleman. He explained that designers like Héctor Esrawe, Daniel Orozco, and others act as vital conduits between traditional artisans and the global market. By elevating craft into contemporary design, they create a bridge that allows these centuries-old techniques to thrive beyond local markets.

“Craft alone isn’t enough,” Jassan said. “You need designers who understand both worlds—the artisans’ traditions and the demands of the global market. Without them, these incredible skills remain hidden. It’s not just about preserving craft; it’s about giving it a future.”

This, perhaps, is the true future of luxury—not mass production, but meaningful collaboration.

In Mexico, craft is more than just skill; it’s heritage. It’s a lineage passed down through generations, with each piece carrying the soul of its maker. The rich hues of Oaxacan textiles, the delicate precision of Talavera pottery, and the sculptural beauty of black clay ceramics from San Bartolo Coyotepec are more than mere objects. They are living histories.

In this vision of luxury, design isn’t about chasing trends. It’s about honoring culture, preserving tradition, and forging human connections that transcend borders.

A Masterclass in Listening

The moment that cemented this idea came inside Héctor Esrawe’s private viewing studio, where the glow of carefully placed fixtures cast shadows over prototypes, raw materials, and works-in-progress. The atmosphere felt even more intentional, almost meditative—a space where every piece existed in a state of becoming. The room was quiet yet charged, a reminder that design here wasn’t rushed—but was instead carefully cultivated.

“”Mexico has a design language that is deeply rooted in history, yet is constantly being reinvented,” Esrawe said, as a table was gestured toward where a piece was being shaped by hand. Each cut and curve was infused with generations of knowledge, their movements deliberate. Someone in the group asked how he balances creative control with traditional craftsmanship.

“You don’t dictate to an artisan,” he said. “You listen and let their knowledge guide the piece.” It was a simple statement, but one that carried the weight of centuries-old craftsmanship—a quiet reminder that true design isn’t about imposing ideas, but about understanding them.

For many of the designers, it was a moment of reckoning. American design thrives on efficiency, speed, and control—blueprints are followed, timelines are tight, and the end product is king. But here was Esrawe, one of Latin America’s most celebrated designers, flipping that mindset on its head. He was telling them to let go, to surrender to the process, to trust the hands that shape the work. It wasn’t about perfection on a deadline; it was about honoring the rhythm of the craft itself.

Later, as the group reflected on the experience, Janine Arietta of JAS Interior Design admitted the lesson had shifted something in her. “It made me rethink everything,” she said. “Why do we assume faster is better? Why don’t we let the craft dictate the pace?” In that moment, the trip had become more than just an exploration of design—it was a recalibration of how they saw time, artistry, and the soul behind every object.

Final evening at Fuego Vivo 

The final evening, we drifted through Xochimilco’s ancient canals, where floating gardens have sustained life for centuries. The water was still, reflecting the golden glow of lanterns, as our trajinera glided toward Chinampa Fuego Vivo, a farm dedicated to preserving pre-Hispanic agricultural techniques.

Under candlelight, we sat at a long wooden table, eating a meal sourced entirely from the chinampas—tamales de quelite, roasted squash, maize tortillas—each bite a reminder that sustainability isn’t a new trend. It’s a way of life that predates industrialization itself. The air smelled of burning mesquite, and for the first time in days, the conversation slowed. The energy of the trip—studio visits, gallery tours, discussions of craft and commerce—settled into something more reflective.

Fernando Arozarena, lead architect and co-founder of Fuego Vivo, stood at the head of the table. His voice was steady as he spoke about the history beneath our feet.

He painted a vivid picture of the chinampa system, a Mesoamerican agricultural innovation that had fed civilizations for centuries. These floating gardens transformed water into fertile farmland, a method so efficient it still offers solutions for modern sustainability challenges.

Looking to the Past for the Future

“People think sustainability is about new technology,” Arozarena said, gesturing to the canals around us. “But the real answers are often in the past. These chinampas have survived for centuries because they work. The land gives us what we need, and in return, we respect it.” It was a philosophy that resonated far beyond farming. The delicate balance between tradition and modernity, preservation and innovation, was the very theme of this journey.

For designer Susie Novak, the experience at Fuego Vivo brought everything into focus. “This entire journey has been about connection,” she said, looking around the table. “Connection to history, to craftsmanship, to the people who make these things. Sitting here, eating food that has been grown the same way for generations, makes everything, even design, be thought about differently.This trip wasn’t just about seeing beautiful objects. It was about understanding where they come from and why they matter.”

As the night deepened and glasses of mezcal were passed around, Jim Warnock nodded in agreement. “Just as we talk about sustainable design, we have to talk about sustainable food,” he said. “These traditions have lasted for centuries, and rather than replace them, we should be learning from them.” The sentiment rang true across every aspect of the trip—from the way artisans hand-carve furniture to the way architects shape space with light and shadow. The past isn’t something to discard; it’s something to build upon. And as the designers sat there, surrounded by a tradition that had outlived empires, it became clear: true sustainability—whether in food, design, or culture—isn’t about constant reinvention. It’s about respect.

The Future of Luxury Is Not What We Thought

On the flight home, I kept coming back to something Jim Warnock had said earlier: “If something is mass-produced, it doesn’t matter if the label says Gucci—the value is diminished.”

It lingered in my mind because it challenged everything we’ve been taught to believe about luxury. We live in a world where scarcity is mistaken for worth. The right logo on fabric can justify an astronomical price. Exclusivity is often marketed as sophistication.

But Mexico showed us another way. Here, craftsmanship isn’t about status—it’s about legacy and history. True value lies in the hands that shape the work.

Luxury Not Exclusivity

Luxury here wasn’t locked behind glass cases or hidden in gilded showrooms. It lived in the slow, deliberate weave of a textile and the chisel marks left by a sculptor. Thriving in the knowledge passed down through generations.

Artisans, architects, and designers embraced natural materials, working with them rather than against them. The movement of light through Barragán’s spaces reflected this philosophy, as did Esrawe’s approach of allowing makers’ hands to shape his pieces. Farmers of Chinampa Fuego Vivo carried this legacy forward, preserving agricultural techniques that predated modern industry.

The more I thought about it, the clearer it became: true luxury isn’t about exclusivity at all. It’s about intention. It’s about understanding where something comes from, who made it, and why it matters.

This trip made it undeniable: Luxury isn’t about having something no one else has. It’s about knowing the story of what you do. And that is something the design world cannot afford to forget.

This journey made one thing clear: true luxury isn’t about exclusivity—it’s about connection. It’s not just about owning something rare, but about understanding its story, craftsmanship, and values—making it a treasure to you. And in a world obsessed with design, that is something we cannot afford to forget.

Photography: Gabriel Magdaleno