Designer Spotlight: Simon Lewis-Wards

From glassblowing to ceramics, steel, and concrete, Simon Lewis-Wards is a sculptor and maker whose practice is anchored in material exploration.

Based in Auckland, his work blends industrial textures with playful forms, often sparked by road trips, street details, and digital rabbit holes. Simon’s approach is hands-on and intuitive—driven by curiosity, experimentation, and a deep respect for process.

In this edition of Designer Spotlight, we dive into his evolving relationship with glass, the influence of nostalgia on his candy-inspired series, and how improvisation fuels his sculptural innovations.

Can you share a brief introduction about yourself?

My name is Simon Lewis-Wards. I’m a sculptor and maker based in Auckland. I started out working with glass—it’s still probably my favourite medium—but I’ve branched into using all sorts of materials: steel, concrete, and quite a lot of ceramics. Usually, I have an idea first, then I find the material that works best for it.

How did you get into this line of creative work?

A good friend of mine—his dad, John, was part of the group that started the glass studio movement in Auckland in the 1970s. When my friends and I left school, most of us ended up spending at least six months in John’s studio. He and a couple of others were blowing glass and teaching themselves how to make it, since it was hard to get in New Zealand. That creative spirit, combined with the number-eight-wire mentality—figuring things out because we’re a little island in the middle of nowhere—really stuck with me.

What are your main sources of inspiration, both personally and professionally?

There are two sides to how my brain works. The inspiration for what to make can come from anywhere—I don’t always know where it comes from, but I know when it hits. A lot of it happens on road trips. The first piece of art I made was a glass telephone pole. I started out writing graffiti with my friends, and thought doing glass graffiti would be too on the nose. So I looked at what was out on the street—manhole covers, telegraph poles—and the industrial, everyday nature of those things really resonated with me.

That got me looking at them differently and thinking about why they stood out. Road trips definitely play a part. And then there’s the internet—Instagram, TikTok—I’m always on there. The beautiful thing is you feel close to creatives all around the world. You can go down real rabbit holes seeing what people are doing. I’m drawn to people who push materials and go outside the norm. My job is to marry those two things—an idea I have with something I might’ve seen yesterday—and that’s when I get excited.

How do you experiment with different mediums?

A big part of experimentation is investing in tools and machinery. When I get paid for a big job or have some money coming in, I’ll buy a piece of equipment I’ve seen someone use—even if I don’t need it right away. Then I ask myself, “Okay, what am I going to do with this?” That forces me to play.

I didn’t go to art school or train formally, so I feel lucky that I don’t think there are too many rules. There’s a lot of R&D, a lot of breakages and failures—but every once in a while, some magic happens.

How significant is experimentation in shaping your design projects?

It’s hugely significant. I’ve mentioned before that I feel like I’ve got a bit of ADHD—sticking to something starts to feel ordinary. Jumping around and trying new things drives me to find new solutions and push my boundaries.

Tell us about your candy collection — where did that idea come from?

John, who I mentioned earlier, started making glass with Gaffer Glass. We didn’t realise how lucky we were. He passed away a few years ago and the company has since left New Zealand, but up until recently, you could go down to their space in Morningside—it was like a glass candy shop.

They had 13 or 14 furnaces, 20 people working there, pulling glass out and going through the process. The colours were incredible—the word that comes to mind is “yummy.” It looked like lollies. You wanted to eat it.

I took a rubber mould off a jet plane lolly and pretty quickly people started sharing stories. I didn’t even have to ask—the form and colour transported people like a time machine back to being kids. They’d say things like, “It reminds me of when me and my brother went to the dairy,” and they’d close their eyes, even shrink a little, like they were kids again. That emotional response told me I was onto something.

I expanded the concept by scaling up the candy forms to match how big they felt when people were kids—shrinking the viewer by enlarging the object. We’ve started adding scent to the packaging and designing wrappers to look like lolly wrappers. It’s all about tapping into those nostalgic senses.

Are there any upcoming projects you’re excited about?

I’ve got a few things on the go, but one that’s really fun right now feels like it’s in the zeitgeist. I started seeing people welding metal and inflating it—blowing air into it to create organic shapes. I loved the look of that and started going down some glass rabbit holes.

I’ve got friends who blow glass, but it takes about ten years to get good at it—and I don’t have ten years. So I looked around my studio, saw some kilns and an air compressor, and started figuring out how to get glass to around 700 degrees, where it’s soft enough to laminate sheets together and then inflate them.

It’s really fun. When you blow glass, you’re working with a bubble and there are limitations—soft edges, size constraints. But I’ve got some really big kilns and I use float glass, which can be cut into any shape. I like hard corners and the brutalist, industrial look. So I’ve been experimenting with inflating glass using my own quick techniques. Some of the forms are starting to look like lighting—lamps, pendants, and maybe even glass bricks. Casting solid blocks is too heavy, but I see potential in stacking these inflated forms for architectural use, possibly in homes.