“The mushrooms remind us of our dependence on more-than-human natural processes: we can’t fix anything, even what we have broken, by ourselves” - Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing 

Often invisible to the naked eye, yet omnipresent and essential for life on earth, fungi were, for a long time, under-attended in science. Historically treated as part of botany, only a few decades ago they were officially recognized as making up a kingdom of their own, and are, it turns out, strangely closer to animals than plants. Mycology is now an acknowledged branch of biology, studying fungi, including yeasts, molds and mushrooms. More than 90% of the estimated 3.8 million fungi remain currently undocumented. (Sheldrake 2020) We still know very little about this - until recently - overlooked and understudied set of organisms. 

Records indicate that fungi likely first appeared on earth about a billion years ago. Our own species origins being much younger, with the first human imprints from Homo erectus dating back to just about 2 million years.

Microfungi make up part of our own body mass. We can host not only fungi that potentially make us sick, microfungi are along with bacteria and viruses an important part of the microbiome. This fact challenges the notion of human individualism questioning where one individual ends and another begins.

We can’t say precisely when we started to develop an intentional relationship with fungi. Evidence shows that already our ancestors foraged and used mushrooms for medicinal and culinary purposes. Magic mushrooms containing psilocybin are believed to have been used in rituals thousands of years ago and to have contributed to the development of the human brain. Furthermore, archeological records from the stone age suggest the cultivation of yeasts to ferment beer, wine and cereals to bake bread even before the beginnings of agriculture. 

We started domesticating animals and plants around 12’000 years ago, but the most ancient known evidence of humans intentionally cultivating mushrooms only dates from less than 2’000 years ago in China. Later, in the nineteenth century, Parisian mushroom farmers were producing ‘champignons de Paris’ in massive quantities underground the city.

Mushrooms can generate intense and contrasting feelings in us, ranging from extreme aversion to appreciation. The origins for mycophobia or mycophilia are often social and cultural. Mycophobia is usually irrational and based on the idea that all mushrooms are toxic or gross and more generally founded in a fear of the unknown. Some fungi are indeed toxic, and can pose a threat to our health and biodiversity. While over an estimated 8,000 - mostly microfungi - are known to cause plant diseases, only 300 fungi are known to be pathogenic to humans (Nature Microbiology Journal 2017). 

For my research I focus on macrofungi, the ones that produce mushrooms. 

I have enjoyed eating mushrooms since I can remember, wild-foraged or commercially- grown ones. Yet I have long been oblivious to the fact that they are just the fruiting body of the fungus and to the whole invisible world that generates them.

Mushrooms are the only visible part of the fungus. They produce spores and release them into the environment for propagation. Below the ground we find mycelium, a mass of branched interwoven filaments, known as hyphae, forming the vegetative body of the fungus. It has no determative form and grows exponentially in three dimensions in search of food interacting with bacterias, roots, rocks and soil. Mycelium has an indispensable role in the natural ecosystem. By decomposing organic matter it prevents it from accumulating, and regenerates soils making space for new life. Mycelium connects trees and plants, facilitating the transfer of nutrients and information between them through mycorrhizal networks (Simard 1997) and has the remarkable capacity to thrive even in human disturbed environments. (Tsing 2015)

My first conscious encounter with mycelium was in 2019. I had just started to teach a course at Parsons School of Design in Paris called Sustainable Systems, which is required for undergraduate first-year students across all disciplines. Following the recommendation of our colleagues from Parsons New York, we implemented a science lab as part of the course’s curriculum to grow new materials from mycelium and waste. The hands-on experience of discovering and experimenting with this organism turned out to be every bit as valuable and insightful for the students as for myself. 

Quickly fungi took over my own creative practice and everyday life. Aside from growing materials and objects, I started cultivating oyster mushrooms at home, became obsessed with composting and making sourdough bread, and walks in the forest became a whole new multisensory, immersive experience. 

The encounter with mycelium gave birth to my fascination for growth and decay and changed my approach to materiality and design for good.

Citizen scientists and radical mycologists are inspiring a new generation of processes and applications. Often based on ancient techniques and knowledge, new areas of research of applied mycology have emerged that go beyond fermentation, brewing and cultivation of mushrooms. Mycoforestry, for example, a branch of permaculture, looks at introducing local fungi species to enhance forest’s ecosystems. Mycoremediation is another fascinating and promising example as it looks at using mycelium to decontaminate degraded environments. Depending on the strain, heavy metals, dyes, chemicals, petroleum, pesticides, herbicides or pharmaceuticals can be removed from water and soil. Popularized by Paul Stamets, mycoremediation and mycoforestry, along with mycofiltration and mycopesticides are all approaches of mycorestoration.

The work I have been doing with my students can be referred to as myco-fabrication and explores developing methods for growing new bio-circular materials with the goal to replace harmful existing ones. Cultivating mycelium on organic waste, the mycelium’s hyphae act like a natural binder as it feeds on waste substrates, such as wood chips, coffee grounds, paper or cardboard. Depending on the used substrate and growth conditions, the materials can acquire several useful properties, while remaining compostable once no longer in use. Experimenting with different substrates and mold making, such as using the substrate itself as the mold or structure, help to uncover new features and potential uses. 

The accessible and low-tech process allows anyone who is motivated and equipped with some patience to myco-fabricate at a small scale. This is inspiring designers, architects and researchers to explore the numerous opportunities that arise from working with mycelium. Using waste as a resource and growth as a process, allows for self-assembled, regenerative, local manufacturing.

First industrial applications have already emerged of these new composite materials, that unlike conventional ones, don’t require toxic resins or glues and have the potential to replace materials such as styrofoam, plastic, plywood, leather, cement and steel. American companies are dominating the commercialization of mycelium materials. Ecovative produces and sells mycelium packaging and DIY growing kits. Meanwhile in Italy, Mogu produces mycelium acoustic panels and will soon launch floor tiles made with a mycelium based technology.

Biotech companies Mycoworks and Bolt Threads have developed processes, manipulating the mycelium’s DNA to grow leather materials. The engineering of living organisms to optimize its abilities, is also called Synthetic biology and is seeing a recent boom. On one hand its emergence has delivered numerous technological innovations and more sustainable alternatives to conventional materials and processes. On the other hand the idea of redesigning DNA has also given rise to ethical debates, about the risk of being used for the wrong reasons and how far we can go in interfering with nature.

Humans are not the only, and definitely not the first animal species that has been domesticating fungi. In fact our history with them is very recent when compared to other organisms who have formed symbiotic relationships with fungi over hundreds of millions of years. African Macrotermes termites, for example, have developed sophisticated ways to cultivate white rot fungus Termitomyces inside their colonies, to digest their foraged wood. Their very survival depends on their collaboration with the fungus. (Sheldrake 2020)

What might this teach us about our own fungal interactions? Learning about interspecies relationships does emphasize our dependence on other living organisms, and may serve as an inspiration to rethink the ways we collaborate with them to ensure our own survival.