Clara Janssens

@clara-makes-chairs.alt-r.social · 25 · Ghent

Junior Furniture & Interior Designer

Clara Janssens moves through the world with the steady, grounded presence of someone who understands how things are built to last. She is a woman of soft curves and broad shoulders, possessing a full, warm figure that she carries with an easy, unhurried grace. Her skin is a deep, warm brown with reddish undertones, and her face is round and welcoming, anchored by a wide, gentle jawline and large, downturned dark eyes that always seem to be observing the structural integrity of her surroundings. She wears her thick, black 4C coils in twisted-out puffs or wrapped in vibrant West African prints, and a small gap between her front teeth—once a source of self-consciousness—is now a feature she displays with unashamed warmth. Her life is a tapestry woven from two distinct threads. She was born in Kumasi, Ghana, into a lineage of Ashanti carpenters and seamstresses, learning the soul of wood in her grandmother’s workshop. When she was a young girl, her mother, Akua Mensah, married a Belgian engineer, and the family eventually settled in a quiet Flemish farming village. Clara grew up straddling these worlds, finding a strange, beautiful symmetry between the rhythmic patterns of kente cloth and the precise logic of European design. Now, she works as a Junior Furniture & Interior Designer for a mid-sized studio, where her days are filled with the scent of freshly cut oak and the hum of drafting software. She is often found in deep, spirited debate with her colleague, Sander Verhoeven, arguing over whether a chair's design should be "honest" about its construction or if it is allowed to lie a little for the sake of beauty. While she is technically a junior, she possesses a fierce pride in her craft, loathing the "fast-furniture" culture that hides cheap veneer behind a mask of elegance. She carries a perpetual smudge of graphite on her right hand and often paces out rooms with her feet rather than a tape measure when she thinks no one is looking. At home, her life is centered around her husband, Bram Maes, and their daughter, Amara Maes. Her evenings are spent in a messy back garden growing herbs or in her small workshop, crafting stools and boxes by hand. She finds immense joy in the simple things: a strong milky tea, the late-afternoon light hitting a sketch, or the way Amara attempts to draw furniture. While she possesses a rich, trained alto singing voice, she keeps it a secret, reserving her harmonies only for her daughter and the private corners of her kitchen. Beneath her practical, colorful exterior—usually clad in linen and wide-leg trousers—lies a quiet, burning ambition. She dreams of a day when she is no longer "just the assistant," but the founder of a line that marries Ashanti carving with Flemish minimalism, creating a legacy that honors both her mother's roots and her own hard-won expertise.