Women’s Stories – Tamara Efrat

We’ve known Tamara since childhood — always sensitive, curious, and full of imagination.
Today she’s a researcher, lecturer, and the founder of a studio that blurs the boundaries between design and technology.
In our conversation, she opened a fascinating world where traditional craft meets algorithms, and where the human hand and technology merge into one.
She didn’t mention it herself, so we will: Tamara is nominated this year for the Rothschild Prize — and we’re thrilled to stand there beside her.
We’re also happy to take part in the wonderful initiative she co-leads — Hug Ha’Itzuv (“The Design Circle”). We’ve only just begun, and we’re already looking forward to the next meetings.

Can you introduce yourself?
My name is Tamara Efrat. I’m a multidisciplinary designer, researcher, and senior lecturer at the University of Haifa. I run an independent design studio where I explore the intersection between traditional crafts and advanced technologies. My work lies in design, art, technology, and science, combining craft with innovative tools such as algorithms, robotics, and bio-design. Alongside exhibitions and art projects, my studio also collaborates with companies and startups developing wearable technologies and soft materials.
My background is in fashion and textiles. My Masters degree focused on design and technology, and in recent years I’ve been trying to develop a new language that connects ancient craft traditions with contemporary technologies.
In my studio, I create projects based on age-old handcraft techniques such as pleating and embroidery — techniques rich with historical knowledge — and combine them with digital tools like parametric design, 3D printing, laser cutting, robotics, and AI.
For me, these technologies are not a substitute for handcraft but a way to preserve and enhance it — to plan better, to document, and to add new properties to traditional craft.
Recently, I’ve begun exploring the meeting point between design and science through collaborations with plant scientists and microbiologists — where bacteria and microorganisms become active participants in creation. These collaborations allow me to re-examine what material is, what technique means, and how we might redefine the designer’s role in the 21st century.

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Where do you draw inspiration from?
My inspiration comes mainly from the meeting between worlds that seem far apart — ancient traditions on one side, and cutting-edge science and technology on the other.
I look at how past cultures shaped materials, textiles, and forms — at the sensory and manual knowledge accumulated through generations of human making.
At the same time, I’m fascinated by science — by how laboratories study bacteria, tree roots, or molecular structures, discovering patterns that can be translated into design languages, materials, and morphologies.
Nature itself is an endless source of inspiration — from the structure of a leaf to the complex organization of fungi or coral colonies.
This combination of traditional knowledge, scientific research, and natural patterns allows me to imagine new kinds of materiality and to develop projects where craft comes to life through technology and science.

How do you begin your work and research processes?
Usually, I begin with research: historical, cultural, or material. It might start with a traditional craft technique that has almost disappeared, or with exploring the properties of a new fiber or fabric. Sometimes it begins with a technological curiosity — a new digital tool, an algorithm, or a fabrication method.
From there, I move into testing — a series of small experiments and sketches that I document carefully, almost like scientific research. I believe in mistakes and accidents as an essential part of the process — often the things I didn’t plan lead to the most exciting directions.
Through these experiments, I start to recognize shared patterns or a visual language, and that’s where the real identity of the project emerges.
The entire process is a mix of intuition, play, and research — a constant dialogue between hand and material, between computer and human, between traditional knowledge and new worlds.

What part of the process or of your workday do you love most?My favorite moments are those when two completely different worlds suddenly merge into one — when something new comes into being. That’s where the magic happens. I love the sense of creating from nothing, of inventing.
But I also cherish the simple studio moments — putting on music, working with my hands, losing myself in the rhythm of making. It’s my meditation, my greatest joy.

How do craft and handmade practices tie into all of this?
Craft is the foundation of everything I do.
Even when I use a robot, code, or algorithm, I always return to handwork.
For me, craft is not just a technique — it’s an attitude of listening to the material and connecting to tradition.
My goal is not to replace handcraft with technology but to use technology to enrich craft — to make it smarter, more open, and alive with new qualities.
Technology, in my view, belongs mostly to the planning stage — it allows us to imagine complex systems and create tools that were once impossible, but the core always remains the human hand.
Craft holds immense value — it carries tradition, culture, community, and memory.
So the fusion between craft and technology is not only aesthetic or functional but also a way to create continuity — to connect past, present, and future.

Can you share a story from Israel’s craft scene?
Recently I’ve been collaborating with local glassblowers — and I was amazed by the level of skill and precision they bring, things no technology could replicate.
Along with the excitement, there’s also a sense of loss: Israel’s craft industry is shrinking fast.
One of the glassblowers I work with, who supplies specialized equipment for the scientific industry, is over 80 years old — a rare artist and craftsman. Sadly, when he retires, his workshop will likely close because there’s no next generation.
It just shows how crucial it is to preserve and document this knowledge before it disappears.

What are you working on these days?
A lot of new and exciting things!
This year I’ll be part of three upcoming exhibitions.
I’m also working on two major collaborative projects with designer and close friend Shaul Cohen.
The first is part of a year-long residency at The Weizmann Institute, in collaboration with Prof. Tamir Klein’s Plant Sciences Lab, which studies the symbiosis between trees, bacteria, and fungi. We’re creating an artwork made with bacteria, soon to be shown in an exhibition on sustainability at the Design Museum Holon.
The second is a new duo exhibition developed with Prof. Itzik Mizrahi’s microbiology lab at Ben-Gurion University — a leading lab in its field. We’re working closely with about 15 researchers to create a full body of work born from direct dialogue between science and design. The exhibition will be curated by Maya Dvash and will feature several pieces that emerged from this collaboration.

What are your dreams for the future?
I have so many dreams.
Right now, I’m most passionate about continuing to explore the meeting of science and design — discovering how these two worlds can not only influence but truly create something new together.
I want to develop more joint projects with scientists and labs — to turn scientific research into a tangible, visual, and sensory experience.
And, of course, to exhibit more internationally.

A life / art / music / design recommendation?
Always share. Always collaborate.
The most exciting and innovative things are born from encounters — between different people, disciplines, and perspectives. Opening your studio, your idea, or your material to dialogue — that’s where real surprises grow.

And what do you wish for the coming year?
That the hostages come home, and that we can finally have a bit of peace and quiet.

Something you learned from your grandmother?
My love for textiles and handcraft comes from my grandmother.
She taught me everything I know about making. She was a Holocaust survivor, born into a family of tailors — and during the war, her sewing skills saved her life more than once.
As a child, I would spend hours by her side, watching her hands work. She was the person closest to me. To this day, in everything I create, I feel her roots and legacy moving through me.