Founded in Riga in 2023 by graphic designer Eva Abduļina and architect Reinis Leo Miķelsons, Gateris Works emerged from a shared interest in bridging disciplines. Their collaboration has led to work centred on furniture and objects often shaped by a typographic sensibility and a spatial awareness. Since founding the studio, they’ve exhibited in Latvia and internationally, including at Tactile Baltics during Milan Design Week and, more recently, at Expo 2025 in Osaka as part of the Design Beyond Things exhibition. Here, they reflect on materials, methods, and a distinctly Latvian attitude toward making.
I read you started your studio about two years ago, how did it all begin?
EA: About two years ago, Reinis was working at an interior design studio and I was at a graphic design studio, both in Riga. That year, our studios collaborated on the Zuzeum Art Center. It was interesting to experience architects and graphic designers sitting at the table together.
That project made Reinis and me realise that once we moved on from being employees, we could start something together and bring those two disciplines into one practice. That was the first moment we thought, okay, let’s do something.
RM: I studied at architecture school and then spent five years in an architecture studio. I love architecture, but I didn’t enjoy working in the field, you end up spending all day at the computer. So I left the architecture studio and moved into an interior design studio, where I stayed for another five years. That completely changed my understanding of how things can be done.
When you study or work with architecture, at least here, you think more about the bigger scale and not so much about a person’s experience in space. But with interiors, and later with graphic design, objects, and furniture, I saw how all these elements could come together. That experience in the interior studio showed me qualities that should be connected. We haven’t moved away from architecture completely, but now it’s a different scale and a different approach.
As a creative duo, who brings what into your projects? How do you work together?
EA: It’s been very versatile. Sometimes people come to us for an identity or packaging design, and in the conversation we mention that we also work with space. If the stars align, clients might have a space as well, like a factory or a café, and it just happens naturally. I think it’s easier to move from identity into space than the other way around. It’s still very new, but when architecture or special projects come in, we try to bring smaller details into them too.
RM: When I was deciding what to study, I was torn between graphics and architecture. In a way, we only found this middle field later in our lives, maybe that’s why our work always has a graphic quality. I try not to go too much into detail, but I want things to have a sense of graphic character when you look at them.
EA: I think the different scales we work with really support each other. I have a master’s in typography, which is like the smallest unit of design. So when we talk about space, I see it from a very different perspective. And when Reinis looks at graphic design, he sees it differently too. There is a kind of reciprocity between the two.
And then how did you move forward? How did you get to designing furniture?
EA: In my bachelor’s and master’s I was very interested in Latvian tradition, especially typography, since there is not much of it. This national theme has always been present, Latvia struggles with finding its own graphic identity, and many designers here are trying to define what our thing is. I kind of passed that to Reinis as well. For him it was an even smaller scale, but for me it was finally something tactile. After my master’s I was exhausted from spending 16 hours a day at the computer. I wanted to make something you can actually touch.
It was interesting to combine larger forms with a typographer’s perspective, to see how certain shapes could translate into objects and work together as a family. The first object we made was a bench, using wood from my grandparents’ house. They were replacing the floors and we had these beautiful boards, so we had to do something with that material. From there it just continued.
RM: My father is a carpenter, so I spent my childhood in his workshop. Architecture was my way out of it in a sense, but later I found myself returning to it. That background helps a lot when we make prototypes. I understand the basics of furniture making, joinery, all of that, but he has 45 years of experience, which is invaluable.
And what about the carpenters you work with? Do you get along? How do they respond to your approach?
RM: I’d say the beginning usually is a bit rough, sometimes you have to explain more than once because it doesn’t make sense to them. There were moments where we just didn’t align. For that reason, for our pieces we work almost exclusively with my dad. But also with him at the beginning he had good questions, like, why does this edge need to be so sharp? For him, the logical thing would be to round it off or soften it.
But now, two years later, it’s him who’s bringing in ideas that are basically the same as ours. Some time back he had some leftover material from one of our pieces. He looked at the kind of forms we’ve been using, nailed a few parts together, and came up with something. Then he said, I made this shape, but I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s a table, maybe it’s a chair. I brought it to the studio, and it didn’t feel like an outsider. It made sense.
EA: At first, of course, he was rolling his eyes, not really appreciating what we were doing. But when he brought in that piece, I thought, okay, he’s part of the team for good.
You’ve been researching Latvian identity in furniture for a while. How would you describe the characteristics of this furniture? What would you say is a Latvian attitude?
RM: It’s quite sharp, in a way. That probably comes from our national symbols and folklore, which are based on patterns. That gives it a certain structure. So it’s organized, but at the same time it’s not. It feels quite brutal and vernacular, with a strong DIY approach.
EA: It’s driven by need, not by aesthetics. The background was very poor, so when you needed something at home, you didn’t think too much. You imagine it, then you make it. That leads to some very organic shapes, and now that enough time has passed, we can appreciate them. From a carpentry point of view, they might not seem logical, but that’s part of the character.
RM: The first bench we made was inspired by that. If you travel through the countryside and look at local houses, you often see something simple. If someone needs a bench, they take a plank and nail it together. They might not even cut the edges. They just leave it as it is. You need a place to sit, so you make something to sit on. If Scandinavian design feels very logical and rational, we have something more irrational and spontaneous.
EA: I think Latvian design is not much about the sunrise and nature like many people say, I think it is more like a random window in a wall. It’s a very practical side of Latvian people, if you want a window in a wall, you do not ask for a permit, you just make it. You see it in Riga a lot, in those tall buildings with plain sides, the firewalls. Suddenly there is just one window there and that feels very rough and direct. It is a kind of punk approach: you want it, you do it, and that’s it.
Besides Latvian furniture of the past, would you say you look at other artists or designers for inspiration?
RM: Yes, there’s Frederik Paulsen, for example. Some time back I saw some of his pieces and realised I had already liked some of his work before, but I hadn’t known who the designer was. Then when I finally connected the name to the work, and I thought, okay, this is a cool guy.
I wouldn’t say I’m inspired by the work itself, necessarily. I don’t think you should be inspired by other people’s work too directly, because then you risk copying something. But the attitude he brings, the playfulness, I really appreciate that. That kind of relaxed approach is something I think we could use more of here as well.
E: Yes, design in general can be a bit snobbish, and Frederik definitely walks away from that. I feel like the Latvian design scene could use some of that attitude too. Like, hey guys, this is just a piece of furniture. It’s fine. You don’t have to be so serious about it. And that’s something I try to remind myself of as well.
What about the exhibition Tactile Baltics? That’s where I first saw your MĀRA shelf. How was the experience for you?
EA: It was really interesting to meet other designers from nearby and to share our views, how we work with objects and what we’re trying to communicate. A lot of us were thinking about the same things.
It was also a bit surprising to see people from places like Dubai coming over and being so engaged. People from all over the world were having these same conversations. It felt very fresh. I don’t know, maybe we didn’t expect that kind of response.
RM: I noticed that most of the people who were really interested in our piece were from countries where wood is less common. In places where there isn’t a lot of local wood, it becomes more special to have something made from these big, solid planks. It’s kind of like how we would see stone here. We don’t really have stone quarries in Latvia, so if someone uses stone in a project, it feels expensive or special. But wood is everywhere for us, it’s just the default material. In the Middle East, for example, they have other natural resources, but not necessarily wood. So when they see something made entirely from it, it’s something they want to have at home, because it feels rare or valuable.
What’s coming up for you in the next few months? Any project you’re currently working on?
EA: Furniture-wise, we’re working on a chair that’s going to Expo in Osaka. Together with other designers, we’re representing Latvia and we’ve been working on a joint concept and preparing custom pieces for the show. There’s been many challenges, but we really want to be there. Expo happens only once every five years and Japan is somewhere we’ve always wanted to show our work, because there’s a kind of connection. The culture, the philosophy, it relates to what we’re doing.
RM: One thing we’re also focused on now is working with materials in a more intentional way. In the beginning, the furniture pieces were more about form and concept. We weren’t asking as many questions about where the material came from.
Now we’re developing a project based on this small beetle called the bark beetle. It spreads under the tree’s bark, and once the tree is infested, it dies, you have to cut it down. The problem is the wood develops blue stains and other marks that make it look inconsistent. Usually, the best-case scenario is that it’s burned as firewood. But the percentage of trees affected is huge, so we’re trying to work with that material instead of letting it go to waste.
EA: Also, we’ve been thinking about how the furniture industry could learn something from what’s been happening in the beauty industry. There’s been a big shift toward more inclusive representations, like people with freckles, people with visible conditions. Just showing how people actually look. In furniture though, you still mostly see these clean, perfect wood surfaces. No knots, no dark spots. It’s all very polished.
RM: A lot of perfectly usable material gets left behind because it doesn’t look flawless. Especially the bark beetle wood. So we want to work with that, and bring it into our pieces. Not just through the form, but also through texture and color. To let the material speak more.
