The Balvenie, renowned for its unique range of single-malt Scotch whiskies handcrafted in the heart of Speyside, recently announced the South African launch of its global Makers Project.
The Makers Project explores modern creativity and craftsmanship while celebrating the very human pursuit of mastery and artistry that transforms craft into the extraordinary. In its South African debut, the campaign reveals the first two of a list of visionary creators: Cassandra Davis (culinary innovator and head chef at SINN) and Maia Lehr-Sacks (sculptural paper artist), the subject of this interview.
We spoke to Lehr-Sacks about their process and how that informed the creation of their upcoming paper-art window installations at select Norman Goodfellows outlets. The collaboration centres on a shared philosophy: that true luxury lies not in speed but in a personal commitment to process, detail, and care. Just as The Balvenie upholds rare traditions such as growing its own barley, malting by hand, and trusting a single malt master to guide every cask, Lehr-Sacks brings a tactile, meditative depth to their sculptural paper works.
What first drew you to paper as your primary medium, and what continues to inspire you in working with it?
Paper is humble yet profound. Made from plant fibres, it is sensitive to touch, time, and environment. Its fragility demands respect. It guides the hand and shapes the outcome. In my world, the limitations of the material are not constraints but collaborators, pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. Every fold leaves an imprint. Paper remembers. Once folded, it holds the echo of that gesture forever. This requires that each action be deliberate, every crease informing the next. My work is a chain of conscious decisions, where intention, memory, and form are inseparable.
Walk us through your creative process — what are the key steps, rituals, or decisions that shape your work along the way?
My process is as meaningful as the finished piece. Folding is a slow, meditative act, each layer adding intricacy, depth, and intention. This time-intensive ritual becomes a space of stillness, where the repetitive motion allows the mind to settle. The work gains value not just through its beauty but also through the devotion and patience poured into its making.
Your work transforms something as everyday as paper into intricate, almost sculptural installations. What does this act of transformation mean to you personally and creatively?
What begins as a flat, familiar sheet becomes something entirely new. Through folding, paper transcends its two-dimensional origins to take on a sculptural, often architectural form. A single fold may seem insignificant, but through repetition it gains strength and meaning. I believe that repetition is not redundancy, but rhythm. The layered forms create visual patterns, optical illusions, and unexpected harmony, where multiples converge to form a cohesive whole. It is this act of transformation, of revealing the extraordinary within the ordinary, that lies at the heart of my artistic practice.
What role does imperfection or unpredictability play in your process, especially when working with such a fragile and flexible medium?
Unpredictability is a large part of the initial stage of experimenting to create a new folded form. Often, I have no idea what outcome a series of folds will result in. Small variances in the order or density of the folds, or shape and size of the paper, can cause massive differences in the final outcome. I enjoy this. I will often make a small modification to a known fold pattern to see what the effect will be on the final form. This leads to unexpected and exciting results (and sometimes failures). During the final part of the making process, I have to accept imperfection. Despite each form originating from the same fold pattern, each one is unique.
The Balvenie celebrates dedication, soul, and the human touch in its whisky-making. How do those values echo in your own approach to making art?
I feel that it is the human touch that is imperative in making something that is truly qualitative and valuable. Each work is painstakingly folded by hand. Even when following a fold pattern, the nature of the final step, where I pull each pleated fold out to create the curves that define the final form, involves variance. Because I am working by hand, it is impossible to recreate this step exactly on each new piece, which means that, while each form has the same construction, each one is a little bit unique. Even though I am reproducing the same form, these are objects that are dependent on the dedication of the human hand. They could not be made by a machine and, even if they could, they would lose something. It is the human touch that gives them their magic.
What inspired your approach to the campaign creations? Can you describe the journey from concept to creation for these artistic pieces?
I was initially inspired by the landscapes of Speyside, which reminded me of the forests that I encountered when visiting Scotland for the first time as a teenager.
I began the making process by playfully experimenting with a small square of paper. I adapted folds and techniques that I had discovered in previous works to try and create something that would reference the subject without having to take on any obvious characteristics. After some trial and error a form emerged that was intriguing to me. Once there was a physical module (even though it was very small), it made it possible to start visualising the forms the installation could take. I made a few different versions of the module by scaling up the original, increasing and decreasing the density of the folds, and changing the shape of the initial piece of paper to see what might happen. The result was a pleated form with the impression of wings on either side of three curved spines. I found the centre of balance of each piece and hung them on fish gut with a bead holding them in place to allow for gentle movement within the larger installation.
I considered how they would sit next to each other in space. It was important that each module be impactful, but also that, when placed together with the other elements in the scene, they formed a cohesive whole.
What was the most challenging part of creating The Balvenie installation and how did you navigate it?
The greatest challenge of this installation was the scale. Between the three windows I needed to fold more pieces than I have ever done for an installation. The largest installation I’d made included 80 modules. For The Balvenie installation not only did I need to make many more modules than this but the final form that I wanted to use for the installation was much more intricate than the modules used in any previous installation.
Collaboration is central to The Makers Project. How did working with The Balvenie team influence your process or perspective on this piece?
My practice is mostly a solitary experience, which means that I must make creative decisions on my own. Sometimes, when I am very caught up in the details of the process of making the work, it’s hard to zoom out and see the larger picture. Working with a team was great because it combatted this. I came with my ideas, and we worked together to make decisions that would ultimately define the final look and feel of the scene. This was especially relevant in terms of the colour scheme. In my other paper works I use a monochromatic palette with stark white paper and occasional black ink detailing. However, for this scene we wanted something softer and warmer that would align my works with the colour scheme of The Balvenie, which meant making collaborative decisions that would lead to the best possible outcome.
Light and shadow seem to play an important role in your work; how did you consider this in designing for a space as public and dynamic as a retail window?
Lighting is an important element of the installation because it really can activate the works. The paper used to create the works is translucent; being intentional in the way that they are lit can emphasise depth within the installation. Where there are folds that overlap, the opacity in the layered paper is different to where there is only a single layer of paper. Lighting in specific ways can draw attention to the intricacy of the individual folds and the construction of each piece, and I find [this] can elevate the works beyond the mere shape/form that they take on. The same goes when incorporating the shadows cast by the works. The shadows emphasise the three-dimensionality of the works — they are things that exist in space. Playing with light and shadow for me is a large part of what breathes life into the artworks. Conceptually, I enjoy the impermanent nature of a shadow. It is an impression of the object that is defined by the environment that it is placed in. It is a characteristic of the work that only appears when it is intentionally activated, which for me adds depth and meaning to the works.
The benefit of displaying an installation within a retail window is that it allows for a specific and controlled environment to be curated to best suit the display of the works. The lighting and placement of works can be fine-tuned in ways that are not always possible in less confined exhibition spaces.
What do you hope people feel or take away when they see your work in the window, even if only for a fleeting moment?
What I really loved about the opportunity to work within a retail window is that people are reached who may not encounter the works otherwise. Because the works are made from paper and are quite fragile, it is often difficult to display them in public spaces. Putting them in a window is a wonderful way around this problem because they are confined and protected, but also accessible to people who are just walking past and may not intentionally go to a gallery space.
I would love to be able to communicate a sense of the time and care put into making these works but, ultimately, I just hope to evoke a sense of wonder. I want to create something that gets people to stop (even if only for a moment) and think, “Wow, how did they do that?”
