Miriam van der Lubbe lives a hectic life, but her priorities are crystal clear: making things happen. She wears many hats – creative head and co-founder of Dutch Design Week (DDW), adviser on the Palace Commission, co-founder of design agency Van Eijk & Van der Lubbe, and mother to two teenagers. We met her at DDW’s Eindhoven office.
“DDW started in 2000 with nothing more than half an A4 sheet describing a design event,” van der Lubbe recalls. “Our goal was simple: grow it into something renowned.” Mission accomplished. The Dutch Design Foundation, which runs DDW, keeps reinventing itself to stay at the heart of the design world. Their latest move? Merging the World Design Embassies and What if Lab programmes into a single initiative called Coalitions. “This way, we bring knowledge and networks together more effectively and amplify our impact.”
From material to meaning
Looking at the past 25 years through DDW’s lens reveals how dramatically our times have changed. “When DDW launched in 2000, design was completely different,” van der Lubbe explains. “We’ve shifted from designing material things to designing immaterial experiences, from serving private needs to addressing public challenges.” Today’s designers increasingly tackle social issues rather than simply creating objects.
"We were trapped by the very system we'd built ourselves."
This shift is vividly reflected in the work of Van Eijk & Van der Lubbe, the studio she runs with Niels van Eijk. Their early archive (1995-2001) brims with playful physical concepts. Chocobarbie: a chocolate doll where you could snap off body parts. Candy-chain: a grown-up sweet necklace containing Paracetamol, Rennie and vitamin C. And ‘Living-thing’: an all-in-one furniture piece for creating instant personal spaces. Each project captured something quirky about society. “Pure play!” van der Lubbe says with fond nostalgia.
Their current work tells a different story – one where impact matters more than novelty. They’ve designed exhibitions that barely touch natural resources and developed tourism visions for 2030. A few years back, they completely restructured their studio, shrinking from 12 staff to just one office manager. “The system we’d created was holding us back. The challenges we faced demanded much more flexibility.”
Now they work with ‘uppers’ – specialists brought in for specific projects. “It’s not about what something becomes, but what it means,” van der Lubbe emphasises. She sees herself and DDW increasingly as directors rather than creators, shaping visions for complex challenges. “We don’t just spot opportunities – we create them.”
The power of connection often emerges in the simplest moments. “Sometimes the missing link in a project appears during lunch, somewhere between the sandwiches and cucumber,” she notes. “These moments of connection deserve more space.”
"We need brave clients who aren't afraid to give space and push boundaries."
The gift of creative freedom
Understanding the value of creative space comes from experiencing it firsthand. Van der Lubbe found hers through Marjan Unger, an art historian and senior lecturer at the Sandberg Institute. “She shaped my development in ways I can’t ignore,” van der Lubbe reflects. Unger’s approach was radical: “I don’t care what you do. Here’s money, time, and a network.”
This freedom initially triggered an identity crisis, but ultimately liberated van der Lubbe’s thinking. For her graduation project, she broke art out of its elitist bubble, organising a one-day exhibition that reached 846,000 Dutch households through prominent newspapers. Her message was simple: “If you want to influence the grade, fill in this coupon.”
Unger’s bold approach echoes in van der Lubbe’s philosophy today: “We need brave clients who aren’t afraid to give space and push boundaries.”
Monday morning revelations
After 25-plus years of creating, exhibiting, publishing and storing work, van der Lubbe and van Eijk decided to confront their archive. In their Geldrop office, rows of boxes filled the attic with decades of projects. Two years ago, they began the ongoing task of sorting through it all.
“Working with the National Archive opened my eyes to the importance of looking back,” van der Lubbe says. The National Archive, which houses everything from Dutch war history to infrastructure records, operates like a well-oiled machine. “Whatever you request from history appears within 20 minutes – everything’s findable and usable. The past connects directly with the present.”
But archiving means more than storage – it means understanding significance. Every Monday morning, their office manager Pien sets out three or four boxes for review. “So much work! But also surprisingly delightful to rediscover,” van der Lubbe admits, torn between amusement and mild shock.
Each box reveals the spirit of its time. “You can trace the entire movement through the design field in these boxes. We gradually became more strategic in our thinking about the world… but eventually, pure strategy became so dominant it lost proportion.” The archive process revealed a crucial insight: they needed to translate strategic thinking back into experiential, tangible applications.
The ritual also highlighted something missing. “Everything’s physical, but we’re not archiving the stories behind it. Each box opens a flood of memories and narratives – that’s where the real value lies.”
Tourism as problem-solver
Van der Lubbe envisions a 2030 where every Dutch person benefits from tourism – no small feat given current challenges. Tourist hotspots nationwide face serious problems: motorcycle noise disrupting Limburg’s landscapes, nappies dumped in Giethoorn letterboxes. People’s desire to travel, learn and explore won’t disappear, but how do we balance this with community needs?
“Design thinking can reshape tourism as a tool for solving local challenges,” van der Lubbe argues. “Tourism can contribute solutions to everything from regional decline to natural disasters.”
Take invasive species like crayfish, which dominate Dutch waterways with no natural predators. Similar issues exist with fallow deer, muskrats and geese – currently controlled through hunting or gassing. Why not create restaurants specialising in hyper-local cuisine that happens to solve ecological problems? It’s strategic thinking at its finest.
But implementation remains the biggest hurdle. “The path from idea to reality is long and frustrating,” van der Lubbe notes. Invasive species often fail food safety standards, legal frameworks lag behind innovation, and cultural resistance runs deep – few people fancy eating muskrat, regardless of environmental benefits.
Even with universal support, meaningful change demands persistence and reliable partnerships. “You might be absolutely right about something, but if your collaborators keep getting replaced within the organisations meant to help you, progress becomes a battle.”
The long game
Some challenges require inexhaustible commitment – something not everyone possesses, and van der Lubbe believes that needs addressing. “I’m impatient by nature, which cuts both ways. I’m rarely satisfied with my work and can’t easily celebrate achievements. But I also need that drive to persevere through friction and frustration.”
That very frustration with sluggish systems and unreliable partners drove her to take control. She needed a platform that could facilitate networks and work with motivated companies and designers to explore brave new territory. Something like DDW – a space where creative courage can flourish and meaningful change can take root.
The Generational Thinkers
The interview series is part of Design for Generations: an extensive collection of projects, designs, traditions and ideas that transcend generations.
The interviews themselves are an exploration in the broadest sense — an inquiry into what the concept of generational thinking can mean for us as designers and developers. This series is both an internal and external quest that we, as designers, feel deeply. When can something truly be considered good for the long term? Is our design sector actually contributing to short-term thinking, given that our business model is based on creating new things? What might we do differently if we were more aware of our role as ancestors? How might our decisions change if we considered the wellbeing of our distant descendants in the choices we make today? Is it even necessary to break away from short-term thinking, or are we already far too late? And what will be the legacy of our design world?
Design for Generations is a project by Verveeld & Verward, made possible by Dutch Design Foundation and all the designers and thinkers who have contributed.
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