Karel Burssens’ practice unfolds between scenography, architecture, performance, and installation, resisting clear categorisation. Rather than fixed forms, he creates environments—layered, atmospheric, and in constant transformation. While his practice has developed internationally, Brussels remains a central anchor, both as a base and as a context that encourages cross-disciplinary exchange. It is shaped as much by process and time as by form.
I’d like to talk about your work, as well as Brussels as a base for it. Perhaps we can begin with your recent projects—you were in Paris last week, and in the US shortly before that?
It’s been quite a dense period. At the beginning of the year I was in the US working on a project with Villa Eugénie, and while I was there we also produced the benefit dinner for WIELS in Brussels. For WIELS, we designed a scenography using aluminium leftovers—materials from casting processes that we reassembled into sculptural elements. It’s something I had wanted to explore for a long time.
What was the approach for that scenography?
It was about transforming the space without overbuilding it. We wrapped parts of the existing architecture—like the bookshop—in white fabric to soften it, then hung artworks directly onto that surface. So instead of rigid walls, you get something softer, more temporary. In the dining area, we worked with curtains and light to create intimacy. And then on the tables, we placed aluminium structures that held candles and single flowers—very minimal. The flowers weren’t arranged, just leaning against the pieces. It was more about gesture than decoration.
You’re now working with your own office structure as well. How is that set-up?
I recently reorganized things. The office is now called 22222. Before that, I worked under a different name together with a photographer, but now it’s a small team—three of us. That shift was important. I wanted to move slightly away from everything being tied to my personal name and build something that can grow. It still revolves a lot around me, but there’s a structure now, and the idea is that over time it becomes more collective. It also reflects how projects actually develop. They’re rarely the result of one person or one moment—they grow through collaboration, through time, through different inputs. The office allows that to exist more clearly.
And the work itself still moves across very different contexts—fashion, exhibitions, music, performance. How would you define it today?
I usually say it’s about space, but more precisely performative space. Not something static, but something that evolves—through light, sound, movement, and how people interact with it. It’s less about presenting objects and more about creating an environment. Something layered, where different elements come together into a temporary situation. At the same time, I don’t feel the need anymore to define it too precisely. For a long time, I thought I had to choose—am I working in fashion, in performance, in art? But the work has always moved between those fields. Now I see that as part of the practice. Projects can exist across disciplines, and that’s where interesting things happen—when references and methods from one field enter another.
That layered approach was very visible in your Milan project last year.
Yes, during Salone we did an exhibition with around thirty Belgian designers for ’Belgium is Design’. We placed all the objects around the edges and installed a large mirrored curtain in the centre that slowly rotated. It constantly changed what you saw. Objects would appear and disappear depending on your position. We also removed all names – only showed numbers – so people would look without preconceptions. There was also a soundscape, something between street noise and music, that never fully resolved. It created a certain tension, like something about to happen.
There’s a strong emphasis on atmosphere rather than explanation.
I prefer that things aren’t fully fixed. Not everything needs to be completely visible or defined. Light is important in that. I often avoid perfect visibility—sometimes something is in shadow, or only partially revealed. It leaves room for interpretation. And that also relates to how projects develop. Some ideas are there for years before they find the right form or context. They evolve slowly, and then suddenly there’s a moment where everything aligns.
You’ve also worked in performance in a more direct way.
Indeed, in 2019 I created a dance piece that started entirely from space. It’s called ‘Currents’. I designed a light structure—a six-meter rod—and developed the performance around the interaction between that and a dancer. It became a kind of dialogue between human and machine. The structure sets a rhythm, very precise, and the dancer responds to it. Over time, that relationship shifts. Even there, it was about building a system and then allowing something more open to emerge within it.
More recently, you’ve also been working very locally, for example with Zwangere Guy.
It's something I really value. We worked on several performances, including Forest National and the MIA’s. Those projects are different from fashion shows, but the principles are similar—working with light, rhythm, spatial composition. It’s just translated into a live music context. What I like about it is that it’s very connected to Brussels. There’s a direct relationship with the audience, with the city, with a certain energy that’s specific to here.
Would you say Brussels has shaped your way of working?
Definitely. Especially through the dance scene. Brussels has a strong culture of performance and experimentation, and that influenced how I think about space—as something active, not fixed.It’s also a city where you can move between disciplines quite naturally. That mix—dance, visual arts, music, fashion—exists very closely together here. For me, that made it possible to develop a practice that isn’t clearly defined. In another context, that might be more difficult. Here, it’s almost part of the culture.
And after working internationally for so long, how does Brussels function for you now?
For a long time, I was traveling constantly—working in New York, Shanghai, Paris. Brussels was more of a base I returned to. Now I’m more present again. With the office, we’re developing more local projects—WIELS, the new café at Ancienne Belgique in Brussels, collaborations around Belgium. It feels like a different balance. There’s also something about coming back and reconnecting. When you’re away a lot, you lose a sense of the city. Now it’s becoming more grounded again.
Does that sense of coming back and becoming more grounded feed into your working process as well?
In a way, yes. There’s more awareness of time—of how things develop, how ideas mature. At the same time, the work itself is still very intense. The rhythm is fast, very last-minute, especially in scenography. Projects can come together in a few days, while others take years before they materialize. That contrast is part of it.
There’s also a clear material direction emerging in your work.
More than focusing on a specific material, I’m interested in the impact of using materials—or even not using them. In our projects, we aim to minimise the use of new or single-use materials. Many materials are found or rented, often reused as leftovers or existing elements. Again, this approach is partly ecological—reducing waste—but also conceptual. I’m interested in the relationship between humans and nature, and between industrial materials and organic elements. For example, combining aluminium with a single flower creates a tension between something constructed and something living. This reflects how we relate to our environment—there is almost no pure nature anymore; everything is shaped by humans.
If you look at your practice today, what are you most interested in developing further?
I’d like to expand the more autonomous work—projects where I can combine architecture, sculpture, and scenography more freely. But still in relation to context. Not isolated objects, but things that exist within a space, within a situation. And continuing to connect that with both international work and projects here in Brussels.
So Brussels remains a key point of reference.
Yes. It’s where all these layers can coexist.
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Karel is one of the 73 locals who has generously contributed to our city guide 'Brussels by locals' by sharing his favourite spots in town.
Interview: Sisse Bro
Photography: Stephanie De Smet