Taking shelter in the Loire Valley stands one of the largest monastic sites remaining from the Middle Ages. Converted to a modern hotel by a team led by Abbey Director David Martin and designer Patrick Jouin, creative director of Jouin Manku, the Fontevraud L’Hôtel has become a historical location with a future, rather than simply a site that reflects on the past. Patrick Jouin and Sanjit Manky is a design tandem whose works meet at the crossroads of industrial production and craftsmanship. In all of their projects they seek to maintain a balance between innovation and grace. Their latest project is a fine example of this rule. “What we wanted for Fontevraud was not the classic hotel and restaurant experience, but something unique; a journey between tradition and modernity that reinterprets the story of Saint-Lazare for the future, marrying emotion, sensual pleasure and poetry,” said the designers.

Built in 1101, the Abbey was open to both men and women from all backgrounds, including aristocrats and penitent prostitutes. In the early 19th century, Napoleon converted the monastery to a prison, saving it from certain destruction. It remained a prison and hospital until 1963, when it underwent a series of restorations which paved the way for its current incarnation. In 1980s it was first transformed into a hotel. Corresponding with the space which avoids unnecessary stylistic effects, the designers introduced their own pared-down and elegant style. This resulted as a sensual and refined interior of a mystical, ancient monastery.

The vision for the Fontevraud L’Hôtel is that of a ‘Cité Idéale’ where cultural, intellectual, residential and commercial interests coexist through a commitment to hospitality, providing unique experiences for guests. The ability to inhabit history within the centuries old walls while enjoying modern comforts and haute cuisine is truly remarkable. Jouin’s contemporary design asserts itself amidst the breathtaking masonry of the Abbey in a contained yet striking manner. Martin describes the Fontevraud and it’s mission quite elegantly: “Between parchment and touch screen, we have written a new page, opened a new historical period, one where we can experience a vibrant living heritage, which, as well as celebrating its past, is forging itself a future!”

According to the enthusiasts, these tools will soon transform us into contemporary demiurges – or simply “makers”, as Chris Anderson suggests – offering us the chance to fully control both design and manufacturing in a process that goes backwards from bits to atoms, that is to say from a 3D file to a three-dimensional object. The sceptics, on the contrary, are reluctant to diminish professional designers’ talent to imagine and create new objects according to their visions and knowledge.

In any case, the opportunities opened by personal fabrication are indeed real, but easy to be misunderstood at these early stages of technology development. Let’s think about the launch of the first 3D printed furniture: when Patrick Jouin presented his Solid collection in 2006, his futuristic interpretation of organic aesthetics impressed the design community, but very few professionals were stunned by the use of 3D-layering for objects on the scale of a chair. The same happened to Endless chair by Dutch designer Dirk Vander Kooij, which was first displayed in 2011 at the Eindhoven Design Academy showcase during the Salone del Mobile days. People got excited by the real-time processing of this seat, which was realized though a print head mounted on a robot arm. Nevertheless, they lost the perception of what its innovation represented: not only a DIY application of a numerical control machine, but a first step into the world of mass customization.

Thus, if we don’t get surprised by the widespread inability to give a proper weight to innovation – design history is full of naïve misunderstandings -, at the same time we should not be astonished that we ignore whether personal fabrication will allow us to fully customize the way our homes look like or, on the contrary, it will be an opportunity to print too many worthless gadgets. What we know for sure, however, is that the biggest revolution is not going to involve the way we imagine, draw or use our furniture, but the way we market them along the whole supply chain. We already got familiar to purchasing our furniture online, and we shall soon get used to buy a 3D file (or download it from an open-content platform) and then print it in a next door Fab Lab. Does it sound apocalyptic? It could, if not only showrooms risk to get obsolete, but also wholesalers risk to become unemployed.