NinaJohnson

We sat down with acclaimed architect and designer Germane Barnes to hear about his creative process, the role of storytelling in his work, and his deep connection to his Chicago roots as he prepares to inaugurate his first museum exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago. As Barnes reflects on his career, he reveals how his practice has evolved over the years and hints at exciting new directions. This conversation offers a glimpse into the mind of a designer who seamlessly blends narrative and materiality, always pushing the boundaries of his craft.

Maybe precisely because you work retroactively, your approach balances out the visual and the writing in a very poetic way.

I think that comes from when I was in graduate school working on my thesis project. My advisor said to me—work backwards. And I was like, “What do you mean?” And she’s like, “Well, what do you want to have at your final review? What do you want to have produced?” And I was like, “Oh man, I want to have models that look like this, and I want to have drawings that look like this, and I want some renderings.” She’s like, “All right, now you’ve got to figure out how to get there.” So that’s how I work now. People are like, “I want you to do this vessel.” I’m like, “Okay, the vessel should be this, but now how do I get to this point?”

I recall us talking about this when you had your first exhibition with the gallery (Unsettled, 2022). You mentioned it in the context of paper, which has been such an important medium in your practice. I am thinking about the 2D visual statements that you started researching at the American Academy in Rome.

I try to stay ahead of the curve even the ones I create for myself. So for me, it’s been, “All right, what if I break down my practice into eras?” First era is architecture and design in LA. Second era is Opa Locka CDC. Third era is the porch. Fourth era is classical antiquity architecture.

That’s why the paper is so important—when I’ll stop using the paper, that means that portion of that era is done. So if people ask me to do porch stuff, I’m like, “No, that era is done. There’s no more porch stuff.  It doesn’t exist anymore.” And it’s ironic because this year’s architecture biennial 2024–2025 is about the porch.

Your exhibition Columnar Disorder at the Art Institute of Chicago ties together all of these histories and eras, in a way. Tell us about it, how has it developed? It feels to me like such an important moment, not only because it’s a culmination of that era, but it’s also the beginning of something else. 

I like the way you framed it because it really is the ending of one thing and the start of something else. It’s one of those nodes in a timeline where things start to shift. The most amazing thing to me is that  my first ever museum show gets to be in my hometown. This means a lot to me. I’m proud to be a Chicagoan and I’m proud to be a designer from Chicago because I’m part of a long history of amazing people who’ve done that kind of stuff. That always brings a certain pride out of me.

For it to be the Art Institute of Chicago, which is one of the country’s flagship institutions  is a big deal. So that’s incredible to me.

For it to be in a location where all of my family and friends can come, who maybe have never seen the work, or never had the chance, or who unfortunately never made it out of our neighborhood. They can go on the bus right downtown and be like, “I know him. That’s my best friend,” or “I know him. That’s my little cousin,” or “I know him. That’s my uncle.” That’s the kind of stuff that makes it super exciting for me, separate from the work.

So in that way, I look at it as an ending point. Now everybody in my family should know what it is I do for a living because a lot of them have no idea. It’s just like, “He’s always on planes. He’s always gone.” But what exactly does he do? I think that’ll help them figure it out.