What do architecture school, giant bouncy castles, and Post Malone have in common? PlayLab.

For two decades, PlayLab has defied definition, operating at the intersection of architecture, art, and design. From self-initiated projects like Plus Pool to collaborations with Louis Vuitton and Post Malone, the studio’s work reflects a commitment to curiosity and experimentation. Now, as PlayLab celebrates its 20th anniversary, Archie and Jeff are reflecting on their journey while gearing up for a bold new phase.

Elizabeth Goodspeed: Congrats on 20 years! When is your official 20 year anniversary?

Archie Lee Coates IV: We already passed it, technically. The 20-year mark would be 2003, which is when PlayLab really began. That’s when we met, moved in together, got an apartment, learned HTML, and launched playlab.org. We just started doing projects. By 2007, we’d moved to New York, got a studio and an apartment right away, and in 2009, we officially incorporated.

We’ve built this thing over the years, and while the specifics have changed, the essence has stayed the same. One thing Jeff and I aren’t great at – among many – is stopping to celebrate. We just love to work. Now, we’re on a new trajectory, which is exciting. We’re looking back and looking forward, and just feeling a bit emo, you know?

EG: One thing I’ve always found interesting is how PlayLab’s work feels cohesive despite its variety. Your shared background in architecture seems to provide both a love for structure and the freedom to explore beyond it. How do you think about architecture as a discipline, and how does it fit into what PlayLab does?

ALC: When Jeff and I met in architecture school, we had no real idea what architecture actually was. We were thrown into a wealth of knowledge – studios, offices, designers – and quickly saw how flexible the discipline could be. More than anything, we learned a way of thinking: conceptual development, relationships between ideas, and the many forms they could take.

At 18 or 19, we bonded over wanting to try everything. Figures like Louis Kahn taught us mastery takes decades, but instead of waiting, we dove into anything we could – graphic design, small projects, whatever helped us learn. We were excited by the bigger picture – how everything tied into what could eventually become architecture. Over time, we’ve accepted that we’ll be doing this forever, and mastery will always be out of reach. Traditional architecture has always been a goal, but we’ve been chipping away at it in our own way.

Jeff Franklin: Yeah, Archie’s right. Early on, we realied that in architecture school, the focus wasn’t just on buildings or structures – the physical nature of architecture – but on the broader world of art, culture, and engineering. We got really excited not just about the building itself, but about everything surrounding it.

We also quickly noticed that while the scale of a project might change – the time it takes, the number of people involved, or the budget – the process itself remained largely the same. We still like that idea – being generalists and being okay with it. You don’t have to have a specialty. There’s a place for that, and we appreciate it. We love people who study one thing, perfect it, and apply it across disciplines. But it’s not for everyone, and it’s not for us.

ALC: The studio is built on two ideas: providing services and pursuing our own interests, which are endless. On the service side, we often ask, “Do they actually need what they’re asking for?” – not the best way to run a business, since it means we don’t just repeat a discipline or scale. But even when there was no money in the account, our goal was always to dream about what something should be, not just what was expected. Now, we get to do all of it.

EG: That reminds me of Sister Corita Kent’s ten rules for creativity: the only rule is work. It’s something I’ve been reflecting on a lot lately, especially in relation to AI. There seems to be a shift toward this idea that creativity is simply having a perfect vision in your head and translating it into reality. But so much of the work is the making, and so much of the making is the work.

ALC: I think we all agree that AI is an amazing and useful tool, and we’re using it more and more. For Post Malone’s F-1 Trillion, we had the idea to invert a truck and suspend it over water, inspired by Gonzalo Lebrija’s work. To get Post and his team on board, we used AI to communicate the idea – knowing people might assume it was artificial. But when they learned it was a real commission, that Lebrija stripped the truck and sent it back to Nashville after it hit the water, it became something else. Then you see the photo, right before impact, and it gives you chills. No AI could do that.

EG: But in some way, it still never could – because the real, tactile thing would never have existed. It reminds me of Ansel Adams’ obsession with showing the borders of his negatives; the reality of having nowhere to hide.

I’m a huge fan of your work with Virgil Abloh, I think I get the sense that what made that work so good was that you had that kind of trust.

ALC: That’s it. I think Jeff and I convinced ourselves with every project that it would be the last one with him, because it all felt so surreal. The level of conversation, the depth of understanding – it was unparalleled. He was an astounding person, borderline genius. And not just that – empathetic, visionary, always finding solutions instead of problems. Working with Virgil was a huge turning point. The trust and opportunities he gave us allowed us to show what we were capable of. The world needs more people who move through it the way Virgil did. We’re constantly questioning how we move through the world, and that feels more important than any single project. You’re always chasing that feeling and trying to build or embody it somehow, and I think a part of PlayLab reflects that. Jeff’s right – we were over a decade in when we started collaborating with him, and it was like we hadn’t fully believed in ourselves yet. Having someone believe in you is incredibly powerful – it opens doors, creates a reverberating effect, and most importantly, instills a real sense of self-worth.

EG: I’ve been thinking about what it means that some of the great art installations of our time are coming through corporate commercial commissions. As artists working in both public and commercial spaces, how does this influence your practice?

ALC: In a way, we’ve spent years trying to marry these two worlds. Honestly, I’m not sure I have a clear or succinct answer yet; it’s more something we’re still processing. We’ve always admired and referenced certain art installations and works that feel pure in their intent, created without heavy corporate influence or constraints. Some may have been commissioned, sure, but they weren’t necessarily tied to a brand’s specific goals or messaging. Balancing those ideals with the realities of commercial work is something we’re constantly navigating.

JF: While we’d love to create work entirely outside of those constraints – and we will – we’ve spent years working to convince corporate clients that effective marketing doesn’t have to be overt. In the past couple of years, I think we’ve started to see some success in showing that their values, intentions, and care can come through without plastering logos, branding, or taglines everywhere. It’s a more subtle, but equally powerful, way to communicate.

ALC: Post Malone is a great example. Obviously, the value and profit from designing record covers have decreased as the music industry has changed. But for us, they’ll always hold a certain romance. The value doesn’t come from what it costs. With F-1 Trillion, we believe that artwork is really significant for so many reasons. It’s not a corporation, but it’s someone funding an artwork to complement another artwork, and that’s such a beautiful thing.

ALC: Jeff and I are fascinated by people like Jeanne-Claude and Christo, who fought relentlessly to keep corporate dollars out of their work. That was their stance – they’d create and sell drawings to fund their projects, letting the artwork pay for the artwork. When they did Surrounded Islands in the 80s in Miami, it became one of the largest donations to an artwork in contemporary art history, and it was entirely self-funded. In contrast, ExxonMobil ironically gave a massive sum to the arts that same year. When someone asked Christo what the point of their work was, he simply said, “Because it’s beautiful.”

EG: Are there any past experiences that stand out as particularly emblematic of what PlayLab represents?

ALC:Looking back at 20 years, self-initiated projects have always been at the core of what we do. For our 20th anniversary, we’ve just relaunched playlab.org – but we’ve decided not to go the traditional portfolio route with an archive of past projects. That’s what Instagram is for. We’re realising we don’t really need to archive everything. Instead, we want to focus on projects we haven’t done yet but want to pursue – treating them as the first phase of a project, like a concept phase. The new site features sketches, drawings, renderings, references, copy – all of it dedicated to what we’re calling “proposals” or, jokingly, “PlayLab would like to.” The idea is to explore multiple disciplines we’re eager to dive into, like theatre, plays, books or products we dream of creating (even if no one’s asking us to).