The story behind studio classico 

SA: The profession of the architect has been passing through radical changes in the past few years. Compared to previous generations, young architects today are less impressed by big firms. People are more concerned with well-being in the workplace, as well as the economic and ecological crises we are facing. That’s maybe encouraging more people to build their own practices and define their own way of working. 

SA: I was in applied arts, and then went to the Paris-La Villette school of architecture. After that I worked in several small firms and eventually at a decorator’s studio. That was probably the most interesting experience because they were constantly drawing. It was fascinating to see that, as decorators, they were doing the most creative parts of a project, with no real responsibilities or constraints. There was an architect in the decorator’s studio, and he fully embraced the title, as he was drawing constantly—sometims even more than some architects—showing that creativity and commitment are not defined by professional labels. When I created studio classico, I wanted to bring that mindset into architectural practice, rather than just handling the technical and bureaucratic aspects. 

Studio classico’s first project was in September 2018. For a while, I was still working part-time in the decorator’s studio. At the beginning, I only took on a few projects per year, mostly flat refurbishments. Over time, opportunities expanded—cafés, then house renovations and extensions and my friend from architecture school Antoine Lallement, who was living in Marseille, joined the studio at that time.

SA: We’ve been pretty lucky—one project often leads to another. We never had to actively seek work, maybe because we took communication seriously from the start. We spent a long time searching for a name. At first, we considered including our names— Ben Achour Lallement could have been an option—but we didn’t want to name the studio after ourselves. That was a good thing because now we are not collaborating together for the long term, but only on certain projects, and other people are involved sometimes. The name studio classico began as a reference to the match between Paris–Marseille called the “classico”—two cities, two perspectives. But beyond that, it reflects what drives the practice: a meeting of opposites, or rather, the dialogue between them. Form and function. Objectivity and subjectivity. Architecture and the applied arts. Not in rivalry, but in exchange—a back-and-forth where something singular can emerge.

Studio classico’s values  

SA: Functionality and usability are key for us. So is ecology, but not just in terms of using recycled or repurposed materials. It’s about doing what makes sense for a specific place. Studio classico is also deeply connected to craftsmanship, and we value work that is made in meaningful proportions for each project by people with specialised skills—carpenters, textile designers, artists, and so on. 

That approach helps avoid standardisation. On construction sites, there’s often a hierarchy—workers, then masons, then carpenters. When the carpenter arrives, people act like, Oh, here’s the expert! But a mason can also create something unique. When builders feel involved in a project, they’re more engaged and have a sense of pride in the outcome. 

We mainly collaborate with small companies, which allows us to build relationships based on trust. With a massive construction firm, it would be harder to create this dynamic.

We’re not dogmatic—we’re open to experiment with different formats. What matters most is making the process enjoyable. It’s about finding new ways to make things work so they don’t cost as much as they traditionally did. For example, building with stone is expensive today, but leaving the stone in a more raw, unfinished state can significantly reduce costs. The resources exist—it's just about rethinking how we use them.  

We recently finished an interior project in Marseille that captures the essence of this concept. The client wanted opus incertum (irregular stone paving), which is usually quite expensive. 

We found a marble quarry that allowed us to take the leftover stone pieces they couldn’t use. These were high-quality materials, and instead of spending money on buying something new, the budget went into labour. It was a great example of using upcycled materials, but in a way that still felt noble and long-lasting.

We could have put down a really luxurious floor, but there was no real need. This project also had beautiful naive artwork elements, like hand-painted flowers on the masonry. We kept that spirit by adding small artistic touches, like bathroom tiles with a sun motif made by a mason. These little details highlight the value of the house's vernacular beauty. 

About sustainability 

SA: Even when a building isn’t conventionally beautiful, that doesn’t mean it has no value.

Sometimes, demolition is necessary, but it shouldn’t be the default approach. By preserving and adapting existing structures, projects naturally develop a soul—you don’t have to force an aesthetic or follow a sustainability checklist. The project unfolds in a way that feels natural and contextually relevant. We want to take a different approach—one that integrates sustainability without turning it into a stylistic signature. 

A project should consider what's local, appropriate for the building, and what evokes emotion—not just apply theory to architecture. Sometimes, I feel like many projects look similar simply because they follow what's currently seen as ‘the right way’.

Expanding horizons 

SA: Between 2023 and 2024 we attended SANA (incubateur de jeunes entreprises de l’architecture) an incubator program as part of the architecture school of Clermont-Ferrand. It came at a time when we were questioning so much, but also too busy to step back from our work. Architecture school is great for meeting people you might start a studio with, but there's often a lack of stepback beyond that. SANA provided that opportunity. Studio classico is now more confident in being a studio in the field of architecture rather than an architecture studio; there are so many other things to explore. Another great aspect is that we formed an association with former incubator participants, aiming to promote emerging practices in innovative architecture—focusing on sustainability, social impact, and tools for new practices. The association is called sana+.

We’re architects, not interior designers, yet we do consider the space holistically. And I want to keep our curiosity alive—whether through competitions, furniture design, or different types of programs beyond residential projects. Our motivation is always about discovering new challenges, exploring spatial potential, material expression, and function. There are so many possibilities ahead. 

The studio classico approach 

SA: Three projects, Brise Échalas, Dauphin, and Flandre (forthcoming), reflect studio classico's approach to the existing.

Brise Échalas, in Saint-Denis, is the home of a journalist full of books. The space had a circular opening that we chose to preserve. Behind it, a sliding bookshelf marks the boundary between the more public daytime area and the private nighttime space. You have to slide it open to reach the bedroom; this gesture reveals a passage that feels almost secret. The bookshelf stages this separation while offering generous space to hold an extensive collection.

Dauphin, in the Alpes de Haute-Provence, is the rehabilitation of a twin house designed by Marseille-based architect Alain Amadeo. The house was already in remarkable condition, but the client wished for changes—some more out of desire than need. The project was carried out with restraint: How to intervene without altering the spirit of a place that was already complete? We revisited intentions left unfinished, like a circular concrete opening originally planned for a staircase that was never built. We designed a staircase specifically for this volume, as a quiet continuation of what was there. Other small adjustments extended existing lines, creating a discreet dialogue with the original architecture.

Finally, there’s a forthcoming project, Flandre, in a Parisian tower. For this project, we removed all partitions to create an open plan. A single wall now separates the daytime area—living room and kitchen—from the nighttime area, where every service space is optimised, even the hallway. The kitchen leads partly into a bookshelf and partly into a metal wall; the cooking space is treated like a fireplace, clad with hand-painted tiles in bright, almost graffiti-like colours. Doors open on both sides, creating a circular flow that reveals the flat’s depth and its double aspect.

These projects share the same approach: working with what already exists, revealing hidden potential, and introducing simple gestures that transform the way we inhabit space.