One of the most meaningful aspects of my design career has been collaborating with manufacturing partners abroad. Over the years, I have worked closely with teams in China, Vietnam, and Turkey, places where design transcends drawings and becomes a series of tangible decisions.

Clarity comes from being where the work happens. The Japanese idea of gemba, going to the actual place, feels more like a design responsibility than a manufacturing principle. You have to see problems in context, understand the environment, and appreciate the people doing the work.

Factories in summer are demanding, hot, loud, physical, and unforgiving. Finishes shift, joints behave differently, and small tolerances become big discussions. Here, design is about attention, not just authorship.

What stays with me is the work ethic of those making these products, the discipline, pride, and endurance in building things well. That effort often disappears into the finished object, but it’s always present.

Good design isn’t a single gesture. It’s shaped by conversation, observation, adjustment, and trust. It relies on everyone involved, often drawing the best insights from those closest to the material or the process.

These experiences made me a more practical, appreciative designer. They taught me that simplicity is rarely simple; behind every resolved object lies a long path of decisions and collaboration.

That still shapes how I see design, not just the object, but the process of getting there: showing up, listening, seeing problems directly, and working through details together.

NeoCon - Summer 2026

NeoCon this year offered a clear read on where the contract world is heading. The most compelling takeaway was not a single product, material, or color, but a larger shift in language. Across the Mart and Fulton Market, workplace design continued to move away from the overtly corporate and toward something softer, warmer, and more residential in spirit. Someone I spoke with joked that they hated the term “resimercial,” and I understand why; it can feel like industry shorthand trying a little too hard, but the underlying idea was hard to miss.

I also kept thinking about Patricia Urquiola’s influence on this wider shift. I remember seeing her work with Haworth around 2018 and feeling that she was helping push the contract world into a warmer, more expressive place. The colors looked less institutional, the forms were softer, and there was a clear effort to bring more emotion and domestic character into environments that had often been treated in a more rigid, corporate way. Looking at NeoCon this year, it seemed as if many of those ideas had moved from the edge of the conversation into the mainstream. Whether directly or indirectly, her work seemed to anticipate a lot of what the industry is now embracing: richer color, softer silhouettes, layered materials, and a more human sense of comfort.

There was a noticeable emphasis on comfort and tactility. Upholstery became fuller and more relaxed, with billowing forms, generous cushioning, and rounded silhouettes that came across as more inviting than formal. Color also played an important role. Oxblood, plum, aubergine, olive, forest green, camel, and chocolate brown brought depth and emotional warmth to spaces that might have earlier relied too heavily on gray, black, and white. I was also happy to see touches of mint green appearing across several products. It has always been one of my favorite colors, and in this context, it gave a sense of freshness and lightness without feeling overly lively or trendy.

Materials were equally important to the story. Etched glass, stone, textured textiles, warm metals, and wood were layered in ways that gave products more dimension and character. Bronze, carbon, and other darker metal tones were still the dominant story, helping products feel grounded, architectural, and warm. But I also noticed polished chrome quietly making its way back into the material conversation. Used sparingly, it brought a crispness and reflectivity that cut through the warmer palettes and more tactile surfaces. It did not feel like a return to cold, corporate modernism, but rather a controlled accent, something bright, precise, and almost jewelry-like within an otherwise warmer material landscape.

The best examples did not feel decorative for decoration’s sake. Together, these materials created a more human bond, something visual, tactile, and atmospheric. That said, I did find myself slightly fatigued by the repeated use of fluted textures on bases and surfaces. In many cases, it was still beautiful and well-executed, but it also started to feel a little too predictable, almost as if the default answer had become “when in doubt, add fluting.”

What stood out most was how quietly technical many of the best products had become. Power access, privacy, acoustics, adjustability, and workplace performance remained essential, but were increasingly concealed, integrated, or visually softened. Lift desk mechanisms were concealed and encased in a manner that appeared less utilitarian. The function was there, but it no longer needed to announce itself. In many cases, the engineering seemed most successful when it disappeared into the object's experience.

One of the more memorable highlights was meeting Patrick Norguet at the TK Studio rooftop party. Moments like that are a sign that NeoCon is not only about products and trends. It is also about conversation, connection, and seeing the people behind the work.

That, to me, was the larger message of NeoCon this year. Performance remains critical, but the winning aesthetic is calmer, warmer, and more considered. The contract world is not abandoning utility. It is learning to deliver it with more empathy. Less corporate. More human.

Milano - Spring 2025

Salone del Mobile 2025 was full of energy, showcasing bold color palettes, vibrant textures, and imaginative design. Warm, natural tones like mocha, terracotta, and deep brown set a grounding backdrop, while flashes of purple appeared in plush leathers and glowing light installations. Fresh accents of mint and deep blue added brightness, and nature-inspired palettes of greens, blues, and soft neutrals blended beautifully with materials such as travertine and green marble. Organic forms, playful silhouettes, and layered transparencies shaped much of the visual language, with subtle nods to the ’60s and ’70s seen in sculptural lighting, bronze, walnut, and cast glass. More than just objects, many presentations were intended to create emotional, multisensory experiences, spaces created to be felt as much as seen. Together, the fair reaffirmed a growing focus on comfort, craftsmanship, and storytelling in contemporary design. Among the many highlights, the showrooms of Arper, Edra, Moooi, and Pedrali stood out as especially memorable.

During my time in Milan, I was drawn back to the Brera Design District. Its cobbled streets, historic buildings, and creative buzz made it impossible not to linger. Walking through galleries, design boutiques, and cafés, I felt immersed in Brera’s singular mixture of art, fashion, and design, an atmosphere that seems to express the essence of Milan itself.

One memory that sticks with me is not what I saw, but what I missed. On Corso Garibaldi, the Magis showroom was packed while Paul Cocksedge was there that evening, presenting his Squash/Morphed Mirror collection. I have followed his work for a long time, so being able to step inside and simply say hello is one of the few regrets of an otherwise inspiring trip.

Yakisugi: The Art, the Misnomer, and the Process

If you're passionate about unique wood finishes or sustainable building techniques, you've probably heard of "Shou Sugi Ban." But did you know that's actually a misnomer? The correct term is “yakisugi,” a centuries-old Japanese technique that's as beautiful as it is practical. In this post, I’ll clarify the name's confusion, explore the traditional process, and explain why yakisugi is relevant as a useful building material.

Yakisugi vs. Shou Sugi Ban: Clearing Up the Name Confusion

In Japan, the traditional method of charring wood is called yakisugi, which means "charred cedar," with yaki meaning burned and sugi referring to Japanese cedar. Occasionally, it's called yakisugi-ita, meaning "charred cedar plank." The term "shou sugi ban," widely used in the West, is actually a mistranslation, a result of misreading Japanese kanji and combining pronunciations in a way that doesn't exist in the language. In fact, most people in Japan wouldn't recognize the term at all. While "shou sugi ban" gained popularity abroad through early translation errors and marketing, using yakisugi is both accurate and respectful of the craft's cultural roots.

The Yakisugi Process: Traditional and Modern Methods

It begins with selecting Japanese cedar, prized for its ideal charring properties. Boards are cut, dried, and then bound together, typically with wet rope or wire, to form a triangular chimney, with the sides to be charred facing inward. A small flame source, such as wood shavings or newspaper, is placed inside and ignited, creating a chimney effect that pulls flames upward for even burning. In just a few minutes, the wood reaches temperatures of up to 600°C. The boards are rotated as needed to ensure uniform charring. Once the desired finish is achieved, the boards are separated and extinguished with water. Finally, the surface is brushed clean, washed, and often sealed with oil to enhance durability and sheen.

Modern Adaptations

Today, many use propane torches for greater control and convenience, especially on smaller projects or when uniformity is essential. The steps remain the same: burn, brush, wash, and oil.

Why Yakisugi?

Yakisugi-treated wood is known for its exceptional durability and resistance to the elements. The charring process naturally repels insects and prevents rot while also enhancing the wood’s fire-retardant properties. Visually, it offers a striking aesthetic, ranging from smooth, refined surfaces to bold, textured patterns reminiscent of alligator skin, depending on burn intensity.

Conclusion

Yakisugi is more than a design trend; it's a time-honored Japanese craft with lasting benefits. Often misnamed "shou sugi ban" in the West, the correct term is yakisugi, and using it shows respect for the tradition and culture behind the technique. Whether you're an architect, woodworker, or design enthusiast, understanding its origins and the process that goes into it deepens your connection to this enduring art form.

The Art of Staying Unfinished

I began training in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu in 2010 under Pedro Sauer, a direct representative of the Gracie Jiu-Jitsu lineage through Helio and Rickson Gracie. At the time, I didn’t fully grasp what I was stepping into. Like many, I was attracted to the art’s promise: that leverage, timing, and technique could overcome size, strength, and aggression. But as the years passed, Jiu-Jitsu became much more than a martial art for me. It evolved into a craft, a language, and a lifelong practice.

What continues to fascinate me about Jiu-Jitsu is how deeply it parallels art and the creative process. At first, everything is mechanical: learning where to put your hands, how to move your hips, how to escape, how to frame, and how to breathe. The early stages are saturated with instruction, repetition, and correction. Gradually, however, the movements start to connect. Technique shifts from rote memorization to an understanding of relationships, pressure and space, balance and imbalance, timing and restraint.

There is a craft to it that I deeply respect. True mastery in Jiu-Jitsu is elusive; you can only keep refining your relationship with it. Every position reveals more depth than it first appears to hold. Each technique contains layers of detail that emerge slowly, often through failure. A subtle shift in grip, angle, posture, or weight can alter the outcome entirely. That nuance is familiar to anyone who has spent years honing a creative discipline. The difference between average and excellent is often invisible to the untrained eye.

Over the years, I’ve trained with members of the Gracie family and others shaping the evolving art. Those experiences reinforced an important lesson: Jiu-Jitsu is more than a set of techniques; it is a mindset. At its best, it cultivates patience, efficiency, humility, composure, and adaptability. It challenges you to solve problems under pressure without panic, to remain calm when uncomfortable, tired, or out of breath, and to improve not by force but by understanding.

Jiu-Jitsu also reveals who you are. It is honest in that regard; there are no shortcuts and nowhere to hide. Progress is slow, non-linear, and humbling. Some days, you feel sharp and fluid; other days, as if you’ve forgotten everything. But that’s part of the journey. You keep showing up and refining. You learn to be comfortable with being unfinished. That may be what I appreciate most.

After years of training, I no longer see Jiu-Jitsu as separate from my creative life. It’s part of the same pursuit: the ongoing effort to understand form, movement, pressure, structure, and intent. It is physical, yet deeply intellectual; practical, yet expressive; technical, yet, at its highest level, intuitive.

Like any meaningful art form, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is never complete; it keeps unfolding. For me, that’s what makes returning to the mats worthwhile, time and again.

Understanding Color Metamerism: Types and Their Impact on the Perception of Color

Metamerism is an interesting phenomenon in color science where two objects appear to match in color under certain conditions but reveal their differences when those conditions change. Comprehending the various types of metamerism is important for anyone working with color, whether in design, manufacturing, or scientific research, because it helps explain why colors that seem identical in one context may look completely different in another. In this post, I’ll guide you through the different types of metamerism, highlighting what causes each one and why they matter in real-life applications. By the end, you’ll have a basic understanding of the way lighting, viewing angle, observer differences, and even technology may all influence the way we perceive color matches. To help visualize these concepts, I collaborated with ChatGPT to generate a series of illustrations that demonstrate each type of metamerism.

Illuminant Metamerism:

This phenomenon occurs when two objects that appear the same color under one type of lighting look different under another. This happens because their surface colors have distinct spectral reflectance profiles, meaning they reflect different wavelengths of light differently. Under the 6500K light source, these differences are masked, but under the warmer 5500K light, the light interacts differently with each surface, revealing mismatched colors. In the image below, although the spheres are physically identical, the change in lighting exposes this hidden difference in how they reflect light.

Observer Metamerism:

Observer metamerism occurs when two people perceive the same color differently, even under identical lighting conditions. This variation stems from individual differences in human vision, such as cone cell sensitivity, age-related changes in the eye, or even color vision deficiencies, which influence how colors are interpreted. For instance, one person might see a sphere as greige, while another sees it as slightly warmer or cooler in tone, despite both viewing the exact same material under the same light. This makes consistent color communication especially challenging in fields like design and manufacturing, where precise color matching is essential.

Geometric Metamerism:

This occurs when identical materials appear to differ in color due to their shape and orientation relative to a light source. In this image, the sphere, pyramid, and cube are all made from the same white material, but appear different because each reflects light in a unique way, illustrating how geometry alone can influence perceived color.

Field-size Metamerism:

This image illustrates where two colors that appear identical in small areas begin to look different when viewed over larger areas. Although the gray circles in both panels are the same color, their differing sizes can cause a subtle shift in perceived hue or brightness due to how our eyes process color across different parts of the retina. This effect highlights how scale alone can influence color perception, even when the material and lighting remain constant.

Device Metamerism:

This phenomenon occurs when the same color, defined by identical RGB values, looks noticeably different across various digital displays. Imagine someone shopping online for a piece of furniture: on their smartphone, the fabric appears vibrant; on their tablet, the same fabric looks more subdued, with cooler undertones. When the furniture finally arrives and is seen in person, the color reveals nuances that weren’t visible on either screen. These shifts occur because each device interprets and renders color differently, influenced by factors such as screen calibration, display technology, and ambient lighting. As a result, what should be a consistent color instead appears to change from one device to another.

Other types of color metamerism include sample metamerism (due to differences in material or dye composition), texture metamerism (caused by surface variations like gloss or matte), fluorescent metamerism (from fluorescent agents reacting to specific lighting), and polarization metamerism (differences under polarized light). Adjacent color metamerism results from shifts caused by surrounding colors, while moisture and temperature metamerism occur when color matches change with wetness or temperature.

Sources:

• Wikipedia: Metamerism (color)

• Coltechcon: At least 12 Color Metamerism types

• Metro Dyeing: Understanding Metamerism: A Key Phenomenon in Color Matching

• GTI Graphic Technology Inc.: What Is Metamerism?

• Carboline: Metamerism in Color Matching for Industrial Coatings

Sculpting with Bricks: Inside The Art of the Brick Exhibition

I had the wonderful opportunity to visit The Art of the Brick at The Franklin Institute in Philadelphia, an absorbing exhibit by artist Nathan Sawaya, who transforms millions of LEGO® bricks into over 100 striking sculptures. The show features reimagined masterpieces like Starry Night and Mona Lisa, alongside originals like the iconic Yellow and his largest piece to date, Decisions, made from over 112,000 bricks.

A standout moment for me was PERNiCiEM: The Endangered Species Connection, a powerful collaboration with photographer Dean West that pairs large-scale LEGO sculptures of endangered animals with compelling imagery to raise awareness of extinction.

The exhibit wraps with a massive interactive play zone, welcoming visitors of all ages to get hands-on with thousands of LEGO bricks, a perfect finish to an inspiring experience.

KUSAMA: Cosmic Nature Exhibit

This remarkable exhibition at the New York Botanical Garden beautifully blended Yayoi Kusama’s iconic visual language with the serenity of the natural world. Spanning 250 acres, KUSAMA: Cosmic Nature showcased monumental sculptures, immersive installations, and interactive works like Narcissus Garden and the Infinity Mirrored Room. Kusama’s signature polka dots, bold florals, and whimsical forms transformed the landscape into a dreamlike, multisensory journey. Inspired by her childhood in a seed nursery, the exhibition explored themes of growth, transformation, and our deep connection to nature’s infinite rhythms.