Could you each introduce yourselves ?
Sabine: I’m originally from the Paris suburbs, from Val-de-Marne. I moved to Mulhouse to study at HEAR (Haute École des Arts du Rhin), where I specialized in graphic design and typography. That experience gave me a strong Swiss-oriented approach to my discipline. One of my teachers, Thierry Ballmer, is the grandson of Theo Ballmer, a pioneer of the Swiss avant-garde in typography and a former member of the Bauhaus.
After that, I went to New York for my first internship. For six months, I filled in for Philippe Apeloig, a major figure in the French graphic design scene. His work is more institutional than what’s popular today, but he’s a key reference from the 80s and 90s.
I then worked at the International Design Biennale of Saint-Étienne, where I handled all the graphic design for both web and print. At the same time, I was doing a lot of freelance work. The last place I worked was the agency Next Models, starting in 2020. I was artistic director of the department and helped their image evolve. Most agencies in that sector have a very classic, uniform aesthetic, so it’s necessarily something they’re looking for. After that, Khalil and I created Bureau Racket.
Khalil: Personally, I didn’t follow any formal academic path. I randomly started getting into photography and video. When I was younger, I played a lot of streetball. Unlike club basketball, streetball is deeply connected to hip-hop — music, fashion, the way people dress, and the whole universe around it. I used to watch American mixtapes, the Rucker Park tournaments in Harlem, and the And1 mixtapes, which combined everything I’m talking about: tournaments, music, guest appearances. It was a concentrated version of the
entire aesthetic I loved.
Later on, when I was living with friends, we had some basic equipment and I took photos, we filmed things without really knowing what we’d do with them. We were just keeping memories for ourselves. I definitely lost those images.
Though, I always had the idea of creating a brand. That period became a turning point — when I seriously got back into photography, created my brand RUEIST, and started getting interested in design and graphic work.
How did you get into design ? What was your connection to it when you were younger ?
S: I’ve always drawn since I was a kid, but it took me a while to realize that what I really loved was everything related to language and calligraphy. Recently, memories came back of my grandfather introducing me to calligraphy. In elementary and middle school, we had to do presentations, and the only part I truly enjoyed was designing the typography. At the time, it made no sense — doing a presentation about Egypt using Gothic type — but I loved it without really knowing why.
I only connected the dots recently. It was when I started university that I specialized in typography and truly fell in love with it. That doesn’t make me a typographer, though — it’s not my main profession. Typography is a very specific and exclusive field, and typographers usually only do that.
K: For me, it was purely visual. When you’re a kid, you can fall in love with a video game cover, an album sleeve, clothes, or a logo. That’s how it started. And when it comes from that angle early on, it helps you build your own cultural references. It’s easier when someone guides you — like an older brother — but that wasn’t my case, so I learned on my own. I think that process allows you to fully appreciate things because you discover them yourself and assign them value. Feeding that culture is easier when you genuinely love it.
When it came to fashion, I watched the older guys in my neighborhood — the brands they wore, but especially how they wore them. They were dressed head to toe in Prada, America’s Cup, full tracksuits, Daytonas on their wrists. It was shocking. I’m from Hauts-de-Seine, and our department experienced a lot of things earlier than others. The hustlers, the older guys dealing and always having the latest sneakers — their style, their attitude — they were the influencers back then, not like today with TikTok. It’s hard for young people now to filter everything that’s thrown at them. You have to go outside and stay connected to reality. A kid who grows up observing real life understands things faster than someone glued to a screen thinking they belong to something.
When I was in middle school, there was a hall monitor named Saïd from the Pablo Picasso housing projects in Nanterre. Every day he wore a different pair of Air Max Plus shoes — it was insane. One pair already cost around 1150 francs back then, which was a serious budget. Seeing that in real life leaves an impression.
There was also a guy in my class when I was thirteen — Fadel, an Iraqi kid from Marseille — already over six feet tall. He’d show up at school in his brother’s green BMW 335i with tan leather interior. He had stacks of cash in his pockets worth more than all the teachers’ salaries combined. Even the teachers didn’t understand. Everything I saw growing up felt like something out of a movie. Today, people exaggerate that imagery in music videos, and it bothers me. Everything became distorted once kids from the suburbs learned the word “outfit.”
S: On top of being self-taught, Khalil has a very sharp eye. He notices things that I had to be taught. Without that education, I don’t think I would’ve spotted them on my own.
How did the two of you meet ?
K: Through a mutual friend in Montreuil. I was looking for a graphic designer to seriously work on my brand, and he introduced me to Sabine. I have a pretty complicated personality. For me, everyone has to make the effort to step into the other person’s head. We have to give each other the tools to understand one another.
Sabine taught me a lot, and because I was asking the right questions, she didn’t mind explaining certain aspects of design. I eventually entrusted her with the design of my brand, and we created our own structure together: Bureau Racket.
Just before that, we made a film called En Vrai with a friend of mine, Yanis (dadoum). Sabine worked with us on editing and post-production. For a while, we worked together every night, and it went really well, so we decided to set up the creative studio afterward.
S: What really stood out when we met was our reactivity — we know how to work. If one of us calls the other, we make ourselves available to move the project forward. We’re aligned on that, and our shared goal always comes first. That mindset is rare. We’re both intense. A four-day delay, like you get with some people, is inconceivable for both of us.
Khalil, when did you create your brand RUEIST ?
K: Officially in 2015. The first drop was probably in 2016. At first, I didn’t have a website, so I sold pieces hand to hand or through stores like Starcow. With RUEIST, my goal is to combine design with sociocultural codes. In the US, that’s very common — it’s something we lack here. You had brands for skaters, graffiti artists, gangsters — everyone existed in their own ecosystem. In France, we lost that. When we were younger, there were brands like Bullrot, Kaïra Wear, or M. Dia — it was fresh. Dia even secured an exclusive deal with the NBA, which was brilliant at the time, but internationally it was still only a cult success. From around 2005 onward, that entire movement disappeared and people became more “americanized”.
My ambition with RUEIST is to propose designs that carry sociocultural codes that are personal to me. For the first T-shirts, I made bootlegs of the brand ARENA, replacing the name with “ARTENA.” Artena is something lookouts shout in certain Paris suburbs when the police arrive. It comes from the Arabic artek — artena in the plural, artek in the singular — meaning “drop it”, “watch out”, “leave us alone”, “danger.”
In France, we lack this approach in design, language, and even in how we express ourselves. Most of the time, it’s disconnected from how we actually grew up and live. And I say that as a huge fan of the US — there’s just a problem of assimilation. You live in France, not there, but some people don’t get that. The best thing we can do is take inspiration from their culture to build our own.
S: I think this is also linked to France’s identity issues. People don’t accept that their culture can be shaped by things they reject. Language is a good example. Everyone thinks French comes from a noble Latin, when in fact it comes from a much more popular, street-level Latin. It’s the same with slang — many words come from Arabic. Arab cultural influence in France is huge, yet often rejected. Americans don’t have that same complex. African-American culture remains specific but is fully embraced as part of American culture. Here, if you’re Black or Arab with your own cultural codes, you’re categorized outside of what’s considered “legitimate culture”.
How would you describe what you do with Bureau Racket ?
S: Our goal is to imagine a project from A to Z for a client. We create a complete creative vision and bring additional ideas through our own approach. Our role is to design a project as coherently as possible — whether that’s graphic design or video — depending on the request. We fully structure the work while understanding the client’s intentions, then confront those intentions with market realities and trends. Khalil is very strong at finding that balance while staying relevant.
K: Even when a client has a clear vision, they often lack certain elements to position their project against competitors. There’s also a communication and marketing dimension where we can bring expertise. I’d define the studio like the office in True Detective — the one you call when you have no other option, to handle the final investigation.
S: Today, everyone has access to information through the internet and AI. Information has become a commodity. We position ourselves as curators — we filter, select what’s useful, and translate it through our own lens so it can actually be used intelligently.
What makes Bureau Racket unique ?
S: We come from two very different life paths, and combining Khalil’s references with mine creates a wide spectrum. It allows us to approach both personal projects and client work with a lot of freedom and depth. Our partnership gives us the right codes and the ability to convey the right messages.
Is there a project you particularly enjoyed working on ?
S: Yes, especially with Tatiana Quard. She’s a close friend. We studied together for a year, then she went on to the Gerrit Rietveld Academie. She now has her own brand, and we’re often involved upstream in her projects. We advise her and help with everything related to image and graphic coherence. Recently, we designed a pattern for the interior of her garments. Because we know each other so well, we understand her requests very precisely.
Do all your ideas go through Bureau Racket now ?
S: In reality, yes. Everything flows into B.R. The studio has become a funnel where all our ideas converge. Even though Khalil keeps his brand independent, we still work on it together.
What’s the origin of the animated project you created ?
S: It started with Batman: The Animated Series, which aligns closely with Tim Burton’s films. The universe was so singular and resonated so strongly with us that we decided to reinterpret certain scenes using key antagonists. We redrew and created a short animated sequence ourselves, changing sets and inserting Bureau Racket references — the Eiffel Tower behind the Riddler scene, the Rolls-Royce whose tire the Penguin shoots, and so on. We had a lot of fun hijacking those scenes and the Warner Bros universe.
K: That series had a huge impact on me growing up. My first toys were its merchandise. Beyond that, there’s a strong fashion reading in how characters dress and how color is used. The unique color palette also comes from the fact that it was drawn on black paper.
S: It was a beautiful project, but the workload was hell — especially since animation isn’t our main profession.
How long did it take ?
S: Around three months for about ten seconds of animation. I did roughly 200 drawings. I’ve almost blacked out the process.
Like any project, there’s the adrenaline of the idea, then the hard part of execution — where most people quit — and finally the release, when the project no longer belongs to you.
K: We got great feedback, even from people in animation who were impressed we pulled it off.
S: We also used the Nirvana track from The Batman (2022). Robert Pattinson is the real Bruce Wayne (laughs). Kurt Cobain was a Batman too — a tortured soul.
What are your cultural references today ?
S: Automotive culture is a major shared reference. The first typeface I designed was AMG’s. There’s an aggressiveness in that culture that really marks the typography.
K: My strongest references are from childhood — ads, mixtapes, fashion. Everything felt more cohesive back then. Kids today don’t know how to wear sneakers. You’ll see Air Forces laced so tight they’re basically strangled — it’s painful to look at.
S: On my side, I stay very focused on typography, so I keep a close eye on what’s being done today — especially by German and Dutch typographers, and some French ones as well. We also work with very specific film corpuses to feed our thinking, our imagery. Khals is particularly meticulous about directors and cinematographers, since he mainly handles the visual side.
For graphic design, I keep a databook where I archive everything I find visually relevant. I’m really drawn to fake documents, banknotes, and packaging, and I’m constantly on the lookout for that kind of material. Recently, I bought another book from the Paper Bag Archive, which publishes a lot of original packaging designs — the last one I got was Food & Beverages. These are things you barely see anymore today. Everything is standardized, ugly. Back then, people had fun and took risks without worrying about whether it would please or not.
That interest shows in the fake banknote in your first magazine.
K: Exactly. Originally, it’s a 500-franc banknote with the faces of Pierre and Marie Curie — in the housing projects, we call that a scalap. When you had 500 francs in your pocket, you could do whatever you wanted, really treat yourself. Purchasing power was different back then, but it was still a serious amount. The person you see portrayed here is Jacques Séguéla, a pioneer of the advertising industry in France. He’s the one who said: “If you don’t own a Rolex by 50, you’ve failed in life.” Next to him, you can spot the Citroën logo, where he really made his name — he created all their biggest slogans at the time — and there’s also a Rolex in the background, a Daytona model.
S: Séguéla had an incredible career, even though people came down hard on him because of his ties to former French president Nicolas Sarkozy and that quote, which was very divisive. People only saw ego and arrogance in it, when it was really a blunt way of talking about personal achievement. If your goal at 50 is to own a Rolex, good for you — but the real question is: what did you actually accomplish to get there ?
K: And I think if he were American, no one would have gone after him. That example really shows how the French have a very particular mindset. All he was saying was: don’t waste your life. We’re in a time when a lot of people just want to build an image, to be liked. Some people call themselves designers, graphic designers, or creative directors without ever having held a pen in their life. You hear the term “creative director” more today than ever.
S: I don’t think they fully realize what that title actually implies. Being a creative director means having knowledge across everything. If you delegate, you need to be able to tell the graphic designer, the typographer, the motion designer what to do — while understanding each one’s technical constraints, understanding the printer’s terminology, and so on. It’s not just about having an idea and stopping there.
K: It’s like deciding tomorrow that you’re a dealer — you’re handed drugs, but you can’t tell the difference between fishscale, hash, or weed. In the end, you don’t know anything. Rap and music culture in general play a role in that too. And to come back to this creative director thing, even when I talk to a printer, I have to explain things in my own words, and it weighs on me because I don’t have the exact technical terms to express my ideas. If you don’t have the language, the vocabulary of a field, you’re dead in the water. It’s the same with a ChatGPT prompt — if you don’t know how to talk to it, how to express yourself clearly, what are you even going to tell it ? That’s why they added voice input — people who overuse this tool wouldn’t survive in writing.
What does a typical day at Bureau Racket look like ?
K : Talking, exchanging ideas, building projects — for us or for clients.
How do you divide tasks ?
K: The tasks aren’t necessarily divided. I can sketch ideas just like Sabine for some concepts I have. It’s intuitive and we don’t overthink it — except that Sabine is the one who handles the computer in the end.
That’s also the advantage of working as a duo: an idea can pop up in five minutes, or be stuck for months, and the other one will unlock it. We’re sharp enough to be critical about our own ideas and know what to pursue or drop. It’s a habit we’ve built and refined over time.
Can you live off Bureau Racket ?
S: Not yet, but soon. It just takes more time, especially if you stay radical in your choices. But our long-term goal is to make a living from our projects. It’s Bureau Racket or nothing.
K: I’ll echo Sabine: our main goal is to realize Bureau Racket projects above all. If tomorrow we end up working with other entities, we’re not going to shout it from the rooftops. Our identity isn’t defined by others.
S: Sometimes you work for clients whose projects aren’t interesting. Those jobs, we consider them just to pay the bills. If we make money, it’s mainly to fund our own ideas.
What are you working on now ?
S: In the film corpus we’ve recently explored, we really appreciated Wes Anderson’s work, especially The Grand Budapest Hotel, where the quality of the graphic assets is often praised. These assets are the work of the British graphic designer Annie Atkins, who specializes in film. She ensures the graphic credibility of the films according to the period and narrative context — everything from shop signage and wayfinding to packaging. Whenever a graphic element needs to be integrated, she handles it and adapts it to the film’s world.
We thought it could be interesting to do something similar in the universe of Guy Ritchie, since we’re both fans of his work, particularly MobLand, the latest show he worked on.
K: We want to create fake documents that we’ll twist in a Bureau Racket style. A character’s business card, the sign of their shop, the packaging of the drink they have in the film — all those little details that ground a fictional world in its own reality but give it a believable character.
S: We set our project in a fictional monarchy, so you’ll also find coats of arms. We did extensive research on heraldic language, which is highly codified. We picked seven “subjects” to focus on: a garage card, a prison card, a beverage package, like you mentioned, Khals, and so on.
K: Guy Ritchie’s universe is pretty close to reality. It gives us anchor points without taking away the freedom of what we want to do. It lets us have fun with typography and the characters’ features without wandering off too much.
S: What matters most to us at the studio is coherence, and I think this project illustrates that perfectly.
Future ambitions ?
S: To keep bringing unique projects to life. You might come knocking on our door because we have the technical skills to execute your project, but it’s way more interesting when people seek us out for the quality of our personal work. We want to stand out as much as possible from the visual monotony that’s everywhere. Our ambition is for people to come to us because we can bring something they don’t have — something a regular executor just can’t do.
K: To work with people and brands we genuinely respect.
Do you have any companies or names in mind ?
S: We don’t have a specific target. What matters to us is working with people we share something with. Not every project within a brand will be interesting — it depends on what we can bring and what the brand is willing to receive. In reality, we’re more focused on industries like film or fashion.
During this interview, I consider you as such — but for you, what does it mean to be a “radikal dreamer” ?
K: For me, it sends a strong message: to follow your own path without compromise, no matter the setbacks. Life is complicated for everyone; no one has it easy. It means keeping your vision, not letting yourself get brainwashed — by numbers or by what’s trendy right now. Look at a streetwear drop: all the photos start to look the same from brand to brand, people are scared of standing out. You have to stay unique, keep your human codes as intact as possible, and be loyal to those who are loyal to you. The one who tries to please everyone is a sellout — never forget that.
S: I totally agree. I’d rather be 100% divisive. We have dreams with Bureau Racket that we want to realize, and we have to be radical to make them happen. Let’s be bold and divisive.
K: I’d also give a piece of advice: look outside, at real life. Watch how people behave. Even with your friends, notice the way they speak, their gestures. You have to pay attention to reality, to the facts, and stay informed. If you do, you’ll notice that the world has never been this weird. It’s always good to know the game you’re in, the world you’re moving through.
Suggestions:
-The Game (movie by David Fincher, 1997)
-Seven (movie by David Fincher, 1995)
-Un Prophète (movie by Jacques Audiard, 2009)
-Mars Attacks! (movie by Tim Burton, 1996)
-Hans Ruedi Giger (visual artist, 1940-2014)
Credits:
Dreamers Intl (@radikaldreamers)
Clarisse Prévost (@redkoffee_)
Photos: Léo Breuillac (@le0.0o0)