Damien Quintard’s journey into sound began far from the glamour of Provence. A mechanical engineer by training, he first entered the music world through classical record production—capturing symphonies with surgical precision. But it wasn’t long before his focus shifted from perfection to emotion, from engineering to experience. “My goal was always to understand how to produce artists,” he says, “to create a cocoon where they can make something beautiful and human.” That vision is now fully realized in Studio Miraval, the legendary 1970s recording space originally founded by Jacques Loussier, reborn in collaboration with Brad Pitt.
Perched on a vineyard estate in the south of France, Studio Miraval today is more than a studio—it’s a sanctuary. Quintard has fused the soul of the original (where Pink Floyd, AC/DC, and George Michael once recorded) with a futuristic design ethos driven by light, nature, and cutting-edge analog and digital gear. Since reopening three years ago, it has hosted everyone from David Fincher to Laurie Anderson to Sade. With a collection of over 170 microphones, sun-soaked reverb rooms, and a deep respect for silence, Miraval is not just a place to record. It’s a place to transform.
Damien Quintard at Studio Miraval, photo by Shaun Severi.
WHITEWALL: Studio Miraval has a storied history. As a French music engineer and artist, what was your knowledge of the studio?
DAMIEN QUINTARD: Growing up in France and working in music, Miraval always had this mythical aura. It was one of those places whispered about—you’d hear “Pink Floyd recorded there,” and it would stop you in your tracks. But it was more than just legend; it was a symbol of what could happen when you combine space, silence, and sound in perfect harmony. A Holy Grail, that’s what, growing up, I considered Miraval to be.
WW: Prior to co-founding Miraval Studios, you had a range of experience, from recording classical records to working in sound related to art exhibitions, pop, rock, and funk. How would you describe your creative practice?
DQ: I’ve always approached sound as a physical, emotional, and spatial experience. Whether it’s a funk track, a minimalist classical piece, or a sound installation in a museum, I treat each sonic moment like sculpture—shaping emotion in three dimensions. My practice isn’t bound by genre; it’s about context and intention. I listen to the space first, then I let it speak.
Pushing the Boundaries of Sound in Art
Studio Miraval, photo by Mathieu Spadaro.
WW: Can you tell us about your relationship to sound in art, within spaces like MoMA, etc.?
DQ: Working with institutions like MoMA allowed me to push the boundaries of how sound interacts with perception. In those spaces, I wasn’t just mixing audio—I was creating atmospheres that changed how people moved, felt, and thought. Sound became architecture. That opened doors for me to redefine how we use audio outside of traditional contexts. My collaboration with Arca and Philippe Parreno there was quite special and taught me a lot about handling the visions of visionaries.
“Working with institutions like MoMA allowed me to push the boundaries of how sound interacts with perception,”
Damien Quintard
WW: Who are the contemporary artists you’ve worked with in the art world?
DQ: I’ve collaborated with Laurie Anderson, Philippe Parreno, Brian Eno, Thomas Houseago, and others—artists who challenge how we experience time, space, and narrative. They’re pioneers, and they allowed me to treat sound as an essential layer in experiential storytelling, not just an accompaniment. I also saw that sound was only a part of what I wanted to do. Design soon became most of my life.
WW: How did your work there connect you with Brad Pitt initially?
DQ: Brad and I met through a shared curiosity. He’d seen some of my work in immersive sound environments, and we were both fascinated by the idea of sound as a living material. We started talking—not about studios or films at first, but about space, silence, and what it means to truly listen. That conversation eventually became Miraval. We both knew we had to create something different—not a rehash of a typical recording studio.
Stepping into Studio Miraval for the First Time
Damien Quintard at Studio Miraval, photo by Shaun Severi.
WW: Tell us about your first visit to Studio Miraval.
DQ: I remember stepping into the old control room and feeling the ghosts of past sessions. The floor creaked, dust danced in the light. But beneath that, you could feel something sacred. It wasn’t nostalgia—it was potential. I knew immediately: This was a sleeping giant. Step one: understand, step two: protect what was left of the past, step three RADICAL DESIGN to open our doors to the future.
WW: What made you excited about this project?
DQ: The chance to bring a legend back to life, but with purpose. Not as a museum or a brand name—but as a tool for the future of sound, design and global movie productions. This wasn’t just a renovation, it was a resurrection. And we had the freedom to completely rethink what a studio could be.
WW: What was your vision for the renovation of the space, to bring it from the 1970s to today, and ready to take on the future?
DQ: My vision was to preserve the soul while upgrading the nervous system. The acoustics, the history—those stayed. But we brought in state-of-the-art analog and digital technology, created light-responsive environments, designed tactile spaces. I wanted the space to feel like a cathedral and a spaceship at once. Hate it or love it, but it won’t leave you indifferent.
“I wanted the space to feel like a cathedral and a spaceship at once,”
Damien Quintard
WW: Miraval Studios seems to be both a creative/project space, as well as a space to retreat, become inspired, form community, connect. How does the design of the studios enable and foster all those functions?
Designed to Inspire and Connect
Miraval Estate, photo by Serge Chapuis.
WW: Miraval Studios seems to be both a creative/project space, as well as a space to retreat, become inspired, form community, connect. How does the design of the studios enable and foster all those functions?
DQ: I drew every line in the architecture with intention. Artists need space to think, but also to not think. So we created salons, meditation zones, light-bathing rooms, gardens. The control room isn’t isolated—it breathes with the rest of the estate. It’s less about locking yourself in, and more about opening up. Renzo Piano once told me, “Damien, whatever you do, whatever you design, put light into it”. Mission understood, chief.
WW: The original engineering board is featured in the control room. Why did you want to keep it? And how did you design the new desk?
DQ: That board is a relic of sonic history. It’s where The Wall was mixed, it carries the fingerprints of legends. I couldn’t erase that. Actually, bar what I just said, “relic” is a terrible word, it’s actually used everyday here! Legendary workhorse would be more appropriate. To tie that desk to the room I designed a new custom desk that respects its presence—floating, ergonomic, timeless, all designed to make the artist feel centered, powerful, at ease. I call it “The Spaceship.”
WW: What kind of materials were important to include, both in relationship to sound and ambience?
DQ: I worked with stone from the region, sustainable oak, linen, light, and sound-reactive surfaces. Everything either absorbs, reflects, or reveals sound. It’s a studio built like a Stradivarius—every surface tuned to vibrate with you.
“It’s a studio built like a Stradivarius—every surface tuned to vibrate with you,”
Damien Quintard
WW: How does the location of Provence, atop a vineyard, an incredibly picturesque setting, influence the kinds of projects and artists invited to Miraval?
DQ: Provence slows you down. It makes you listen differently. You’re not coming here to chase radio deadlines—you’re coming to find clarity. That draws artists who are looking for something deeper: Sade, Fincher, Anderson, Lamar, George Michael—people who want to disappear from the noise and rediscover their voice.
New Magic Unfolds at Studio Miraval
Studio Miraval, photo by Mathieu Spadaro.
WW: In the past three years, artists, musicians, directors, editors have come through. Can you share some of the highlights for you?
DQ: Each session has its magic. I’ve watched Steve Lacy improvise entire takes under the stars, Laurie Anderson record with silence as her main instrument, and Justice put the finishing touches on their record surrounded by 1,000-year-old olive trees. Those moments don’t happen in L.A. They happen here.
WW: What have been some of the projects you’ve worked on there that you couldn’t have worked on anywhere else?
DQ: The one that comes to mind is Miraval itself. The studio, its design, and my relationship with Brad that fed everything with good spirit and an incredible appetite for something groundbreaking. I just remember the days, the nights of work. It was really blood, sweat, and tears to pull this off. I don’t think people realize what it took to build this Studio. It took everything—and some more.
“It was really blood, sweat, and tears to pull this off,”
Damien Quintard
WW: You have a collection of 170 microphones. The studio looks incredibly up to date with gear and technology. Creating this studio, was there a piece of gear you were super excited to work on that you hadn’t been able to before?
DQ: The Fairchild 670. It’s like painting with velvet. But more than that, the dream was to finally integrate all this vintage analog gear seamlessly into a modern and forward-thinking environment. I thought to myself, Where would Billie Eilish and Robert Plant want to record? Went from there.
WW: In an interview, you’ve talked about how now artists can record at home, they don’t need to come into the studio. So how does a place like Miraval get an artist to come into the studio?
DQ: Because home can’t change you. Miraval isn’t a studio—it’s a transformation engine. You come here not just to record a track, but to become something new. It’s about resetting your senses. That’s something a plug-in can’t do. It’s a whole thing, this AI world. I want Miraval to be one of those sanctuaries where we protect humanity and its imperfect, frail, sad, and sometimes brilliant soul.
A Record of Creative Life in Provence
Miraval Estate, photo by Serge Chapuis.
WW: What is a typical day like for you there?
DQ: There’s no typical day. One morning I might be calibrating an EMT plate, the next I’m walking the vineyard with a director, talking about the next script. There’s music, there’s food, there’s philosophy, there’s code. It’s life—recorded.
WW: How can a space like this spark new creative choices?
DQ: By removing the noise—literal and mental—when artists feel safe, inspired, and unjudged, they make different decisions. They take risks. The environment becomes a collaborator. Miraval is more like a creative provocation. I never looked for neutrality.
“Miraval is more like a creative provocation,”
Damien Quintard
WW: Who are the artists you’re working with right now you’re excited about? What are the projects you can’t stop thinking about?
DQ: There’s one rule about Miraval: nobody talks about what’s created in Miraval. That is, until the artists talk about it themselves.
WW: We heard you have a project coming up this fall in New York—can you tell us about that?
DQ: Let’s just say: sound meets architecture meets emotion. It’s a multi-sensory design that I recently finished, pushing what a space can be in a skyscraper in Manhattan.
WW: What do you see for the future of Miraval Studios?
DQ: Miraval Studios is becoming more than a place—it’s becoming a standard. A way of creating. I see us opening that philosophy into new cities, new formats. But always with the same ethos: Slow down, listen deeper, and create something that wasn’t possible yesterday.
“Slow down, listen deeper, and create something that wasn’t possible yesterday,”
Damien Quintard
To order your copy of the fall 2025 Harmony Issue, featuring Damien Quintard visit HERE.
