What if a building could move in the wind or a bridge could be played like a musical instrument? | Mark Nixon - NEON
- Doğukan Güngör
- Sep 14
- 6 min read
UK-based design studio NEON bridges the gap between architecture and art, creating works that fuse imagination with everyday experience. Known for their Fantastical Architecture approach, the studio designs public interventions that bring sound, movement, and surprise into shared spaces.
In this interview, we spoke with co-founder Mark Nixon about NEON’s creative practice, their dialogue with materials, and the challenges of designing for the public realm. An inspiring conversation for young designers. Enjoy the read!
Interview: Doğu Güngör
Photos - © Adrian Lambert
To begin, could you briefly introduce the creative minds behind NEON? Who are you as a team?
The NEON team is composed of myself, Mark Nixon and Viliina Koivisto. I am a ARB-chartered architect, and Viliina is a visual artist with a background in fine art and arts management. When we met, we realised we shared a frustration with our respective disciplines: Myself with the hands-off nature of the architecture industry, and Viliina with the sense of disconnection often found in the white space of a gallery. Working together on projects that aim to “elevate the everyday” felt like a natural evolution. Although NEON has been running for longer, we have been collaborating for around 10 years.
You use the term Fantastical Architecture to describe your work. What does that really mean to you? What makes NEON different in how it approaches design?
For us, Fantastical Architecture is about expanding the possibilities of what architecture and design can be. Traditional architecture is often defined by function and permanence, whereas we are more interested in creating experiences that are playful, surprising and emotionally resonant.
What makes NEON different is that we treat every project as an adventure. We’re constantly asking: what if? What if a building could move in the wind or a bridge could be played like a musical instrument?
By working between art and architecture, and by embracing materials and techniques in unconventional ways, we try to create works that reconnect people to their surroundings and bring a sense of wonder into daily life.
This interview also hopes to inspire young designers and creatives. What was the initial motivation or turning point that led to the formation of NEON? What triggered it all?
The real trigger was Chimecco, my first public artwork, which I created for Sculpture by the Sea right after graduating. Until then, I had been searching for a way to combine my architectural training with a more immediate, hands-on approach. Designing Chimecco a bridge transformed into a giant wind instrument with hundreds of suspended chimes showed me that it was possible to make work that was both architectural and deeply experiential.
That project was incredibly well received, and watching the public interact with it was eye-opening. It confirmed that this was the direction I wanted to pursue.
Your material choices often feel familiar, yet appear in surprising, even magical forms. How does this “reimagining” process work for you? Does the material come first—or the idea?
For us it’s rarely one or the other — material or idea — it’s usually a conversation between the two. Sometimes a material suggests a concept we want to explore, other times we have an idea and then go searching for the right material to make it possible.
This idea of “reimaging” familiar materials is important to our practice because it makes our work relatable but also at the same time otherworldly and surreal. In addition, we often worked with fixed budgets so starting with an existing off the shelf material and thinking of exciting ways it can be used can be a way to maximise impact.
How would you define a “successful intervention” in public space? What makes it resonate for you?
For us, a successful intervention is one that changes how people experience their surroundings, even if only for a moment. It doesn’t need to be large or permanent — what matters is that it sparks curiosity, wonder, or reflection in those who encounter it. When people stop, look twice, or interact in an unexpected way, the work has achieved something meaningful.
Of course, what resonates will differ from person to person, but because we share many experiences and reference points, it is possible to make artworks that feel relatable to many. To do this, we try to build in “hooks” that give people a way into the project. In the case of our Shiver House series, simply describing the work as a “house” makes it immediately relatable and familiar, but when people see it moving in the wind it is also something else entirely — alive, animal-like, almost breathing. That shift in perception is what makes the best works resonate.
In your opinion, what is the most delicate balance when designing for the public realm? Who is the project really for the public, the curator, or the design community?
I once read that architecture is the art of compromise, and I think this applies just as well to public art. There are so many factors you need to hold in balance — budget, time scale, material limitations, public safety, logistics, and even the climate. You often have to be flexible and responsive to make a project happen, but at the same time the work still has to deliver a clear creative vision. It can feel like solving a very complex puzzle.
As for who the project is really for, of course different audiences will engage with it in different ways, but ultimately we are designing for the public. These works live in shared space, and the people who encounter them unexpectedly in their everyday lives are always at the heart of our thinking as a practice.
Photo 1 - © NEON, Photo 2 - © Simmon Anning
Many people see the final output, but the process behind public installations is often the most intense. Especially for aspiring creatives: how do things like permissions, collaborations, and logistics typically unfold in your projects?
You are correct, the process is very complex, in some ways coming up with the concept is the easiest part! I would say around 10% of our time is spent on creative tasks with the rest being spent on the many other administrative and technical tasks.
With public projects there are multiple obligations to ensure the work is safe and accessible including structure, fire and planning regulations. That side of things can feel daunting when you are starting out,, but over time we’ve learned that these challenges often push the work in new and interesting directions.
Collaboration is also at the heart of the process in our project and helps us to expand our knowledge and output. We work closely with fabricators, engineers, curators, and local stakeholders, and each brings a different perspective that shapes the final piece. For example, in Chorus Ventus which is designed for a Botanical Garden in Nebraska which can have tornados, we had to collaborate closely with structural engineers to make sure the moving elements could withstand extreme weather, while still maintaining the lightness and responsiveness we were aiming for.
Logistics are another layer altogether — how to transport the work, how to install it safely, how it will be maintained over time. None of these things are glamorous, but they are a crucial part of a project's success.
For aspiring creatives, I’d say: embrace these constraints. They can be frustrating, but they’re also what make public art such a rich and rewarding field to work in..
Let’s imagine all constraints disappear materials, budgets, geography. If you could create anything, anywhere in the world: where would it be, and what would you make?And what is next?
We are often asked the “dream project” question and I don't really like to answer it directly because some of the best projects we have worked on came out of the blue into our inbox and were quite different to anything we had done before. Being open minded has created a practice that is one big adventure that gives new experience and knowledge along the way.
A good example (and also something coming up) is that for the last few years we have been working on a new permanent public fountain in London which will soon be complete. We never once thought “I one day dream of designing a fountain” but the experience has been incredible. So, bold and ambitious clients reading this, get in touch! :)
Finally, from the well urban things platform, if you could choose any 3 projects that resonate with your design philosophy, which would you pick—and why?
I have followed Pamela Tan’s work for a few years now and as a fellow architect I really love the way she is also taking architectural space into a new direction. Her work is very delicate but also incredibly evocative. Her early work Eden is jawdropping.
This was such a clever idea to have some columns that wernt load bearing but could be moved by the public. I can imagine this felt quite exhilarating to push a column around in space while hoping the roof wouldn't collapse! This play on the principles of architecture is something I admire.
I admired the way this project is playful in its use of colour and form but also does something that is technically and structurally very ambitious.
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