
Guillaume Grando, widely known as SupaKitch, is a versatile creator who delves into the movement of water, the play of light, and the depth of materials through his art. Growing up between the Paris suburbs and the Mediterranean and Atlantic coasts, Grando was shaped by the cultures of surfing and hip-hop. His journey began at a young age with graffiti and calligraphy, allowing him to develop a striking visual language through surfaces and forms. His passion for Japanese culture, shared with his wife and artistic partner Koralie, inspired him to bring his creative practice into the studio.
In his Biarritz studio, Grando conducts experiments with pigments and resin, capturing the fluid nature of water and its interaction with light. Influenced by Soulages’ concept of "outrenoir," his work moves away from figurative representation to focus on five fundamental elements: color, motion, light, material, and gesture. These themes resonate not only in his art but also in his collaborations with brands like BMW, Lacoste, and Ikea. By merging disciplines and crafting compelling visual narratives, Guillaume continues to push the boundaries of creativity. We had the opportunity to discuss his works and artistic practice in depth.
Interview: Onur Çoban
You seamlessly combine graphics, painting, and design in your works, which often involve ocean and water themes. How would you describe your art practice?
I like the idea of being unclassifiable, and working across disciplines allows me to express myself in a unique way. It's like mixing ingredients that don't traditionally blend to create an original sauce. When I painted extensively, I thought of using colors as musical notes through a single instrument to compose graphic melodies. Today, I feel more like I’m using multiple instruments to create songs.
Waves Don’t Die
Indeed, the liquid element is very present in my work. It’s a fascinating and challenging material, which pushes me constantly. It allows me to express movement through its interaction with light, refine my gestures to capture its rhythm, and explore color through its reflective prism. Over the years, I’ve chosen to streamline my work and focus on the essence of an artwork. Water has become a source of observation and reflection for me. In my view, a piece of art can be defined by five key elements: light, movement, material, gesture, and color.
How has your interest in Japanese culture shaped your art? How did your collaboration with Koralie contribute to this process?
I met Koralie 23 years ago, and it was our shared interest in Japanese culture—particularly in painting, architecture, and design—that brought us together. Japanese culture carries a strong and sensitive sense of aesthetics, accompanied by a commitment to achieving excellence through dedication and hard work. I deeply respect and draw inspiration from this approach.

Mononero
Growing up in France gave me a unique position, geographically and culturally, allowing me to observe Japan on one side but also the United States on the other. This duality has profoundly influenced my work and tastes. From American pop and counterculture to abstract expressionism, these movements resonate with me. Apart from Pierre Soulages, who was French, most of my artistic references are American, including Mark Rothko, Cy Twombly, and Jackson Pollock, to name a few.
Which work has excited you the most so far?
I loved preparing the Tempête exhibition, which is currently on display at the Hangar 107 art center. It allowed me to delve deeper into themes that are omnipresent in today’s discourse and to which I feel particularly attuned. I explored the complex relationship between humanity and nature, presenting it through a dual perspective that juxtaposes contemplation and reality.
When looking at my work, one can simply focus on the visual and aesthetic aspects of the pieces. However, for those willing to dig deeper, there’s an underlying invitation to reflect on our relationship with pleasure, modern comforts, and our ways of consuming and traveling during this time of climatic, political, social, and media-driven turbulence.
For instance, Mémoire de forme (Memory of Form) is a speculative installation questioning materiality and absence. It takes the shape of a swimming pool, but vertically positioned, stripping it of its usual function. The pool’s floor is covered with blue tiles that mimic the water’s surface through a sort of mineral metamorphosis, frozen in silent nostalgia. The pool recalls a time when water restrictions did not prevent it from being a leisure space.

Mémoire de Forme
Then there’s Vague de chaleur (Heat Wave), a 10-meter-long artwork resembling a horizon. At first glance, it invites contemplation, but its timeline-like format leads viewers to confront the harsh reality of warming ocean waters and their well-documented consequences.
Finally, the installation Tempête (Storm) reflects on the tension between balance and collapse. A boat filled with black liquid is suspended and isolated on a pedestal made of sand—a material inherently unstable by nature. How long can this fragile balance endure?
Tempête
Can you tell us a little bit about the production process of your works?
My research process is constant and daily, like a quest for something unknown. It’s an instinctive drive—I’m always thinking about the next step in my work, searching for something new that will push me forward and prevent me from settling into a comfort zone. I fill notebooks with notes, sketches and ideas, then test and experiment. Sometimes it works, but more often, it’s complex.
This often requires consulting artisans who master techniques I don’t, so I learn to understand the possibilities and limitations of those techniques to see if they align with my vision. Sometimes, it means creating custom tools ; other times, delegating a part of the process, or learning to do it myself. I like the idea that the concept dictates the choice of technique—it reinforces my sense of creative freedom.
Alongside this research, there’s production work in the studio. For the Surface and Depth series, for example, I don’t work alone ; I’m assisted by Nicolas and Roman. These works involve four different crafts and 23 production stages. In simple terms, there’s carpentry, the artistic process of painting, resin pouring, and finally, sculptural work like sanding and polishing.

Can you tell us a little bit about the sources of inspiration behind your work? Who are the names you follow with curiosity in this field or in different disciplines?
My sources of inspiration often come from outside the studio. I distinguish between inspiration from experience and inspiration from observation. It works in cycles, like a loop.
I often find inspiration when I’m in motion—whether traveling, playing sports, or simply moving through a vast architectural or natural space. It’s the act of experiencing that matters. Observation, on the other hand, is more intellectual than physical. I step back and reflect. I can spend a long time thinking about an idea before starting to work on it—or even reflecting on what I’ve just created.
When you think about your journey from graffiti art to this point as SupaKitch, are there any new creative projects or techniques that excite you for the future?
When I think back, my graffiti period feels like my adolescence, and now I’ve stepped into adulthood. Not that graffiti is exclusively for teenagers—it’s just a personal feeling. It’s still in my DNA, but it represents my evolution. That’s why, for a few years now, I’ve been signing my work with my birth name and no longer use the pseudonym SupaKitch.
I have several medium- and long-term projects in progress, including a solo show in Paris curated by Diego Escobar Gallery next April.




