亚洲色吧

It鈥檚 incredibly heartwarming to be recognised by the 亚洲色吧. To me, it鈥檚 not just about the accolade itself, but a moment of pause and reflection. It affirms that designing with empathy, curiosity, and a bit of quiet rebellion does make a difference. This recognition encourages me to keep exploring unconventional angles, to keep listening closely, and to continue crafting work that speaks gently but resonates deeply.

This recognition has been both an honour and a quiet confidence boost. It鈥檚 a reminder that thoughtful, emotionally resonant design does get noticed, even when it starts from something playful or unexpected. It鈥檚 opened doors to new conversations, creative partnerships, and projects where clients are more open to bold ideas. More than anything, it鈥檚 sparked momentum鈥攅ncouraging us to keep trusting our instincts, pushing boundaries gently, and designing with heart.

Experimentation plays a huge role in my process鈥攊t鈥檚 where intuition meets surprise. I see it less as trial-and-error and more like playful exploration, where I test out ideas that might work, knowing that even the "wrong" ones often lead somewhere better. With Melt, for example, the original idea started with the visual of an ice cream scoop鈥攂ut translating that softness into a functional, manufacturable form took lots of tinkering. I prototyped curves, tested water flow, and kept adjusting until the shape felt both delightful and intuitive. That back-and-forth鈥攂etween imagination and reality鈥攊s where the magic really happens.

Ice cream鈥攅asily the most unexpected (and delicious) source of inspiration I鈥檝e tapped into. While designing Melt, a humidifier, I was inspired by the soft, sculpted form of a spoon carving into a scoop. That elegant motion shaped the cap鈥檚 design and brought a playful, sensorial twist to a typically mundane object. It was a reminder that even everyday tools can鈥攁nd should鈥攕park a little joy.

I wish more people knew that not every design starts with spreadsheets or structured research鈥攕ometimes, it starts with an aha moment in the middle of everyday life. A tiny frustration, a funny coincidence, or a passing detail can suddenly click and turn into a design direction. Those little epiphanies, drawn from lived experience, often lead to the most honest and resonant ideas. Of course, research shapes and sharpens the outcome, but the spark? That often comes when you least expect it鈥攗sually far from a desk.

I see it as a thoughtful dance between vision and collaboration. I always start by deeply understanding the client鈥檚 needs鈥攏ot just what they ask for, but what they truly care about. From there, I look for overlaps between their goals and my design instincts. When tensions arise, I try to reframe challenges as opportunities: how can we tell the story better, refine the function, or push the idea further together? It鈥檚 not about compromising creativity, but about expanding it within meaningful constraints鈥攂ecause great design lives where clarity, intention, and trust intersect.

One of the key challenges was ensuring that form truly informed function鈥攎aking sure every curve and contour wasn't just aesthetically pleasing, but also purposeful. For example, the cap鈥檚 scoop-like shape wasn鈥檛 just a visual nod to ice cream; it guided water seamlessly into the tank, reducing spills and simplifying use. Colour decisions were another layer of storytelling. I circled back to the world of ice cream鈥攄rawing from gelato-inspired tones to complete the brand narrative and, admittedly, indulge a bit in my own personal fantasy of imaginative flavours.

When I hit a creative block, I鈥檝e learned not to fight it head-on. Instead, I step away鈥攇o for a walk, wander through a museum, or even just observe how people interact with the world around them. I find that inspiration often sneaks in sideways, through a surprising colour on a beetle鈥檚 shell or the choreography of people crossing a busy street. Tuning into unrelated fields鈥攍ike animal behaviour, food culture, or even zoo exhibit design鈥攈elps loosen the knots in my thinking. It鈥檚 less about forcing ideas and more about creating space for them to find me.

At the heart of my work is a deep respect for life in all its forms鈥攈uman, animal, and everything in between. I try to design with empathy for different lifestyles, cultures, and even limitations because I believe constraints aren鈥檛 roadblocks鈥攖hey鈥檙e guideposts that shape more thoughtful, inclusive solutions. Whether it鈥檚 honouring someone鈥檚 daily rhythm or acknowledging the quiet needs we often overlook, I aim to create experiences that are respectful, adaptable, and quietly supportive.

There鈥檚 no one-size-fits-all formula for successful design鈥攁nd that鈥檚 the beauty of it. My advice? Be honest. Stay humble. And stay true to the heart of your design. Listen closely to your audience鈥攏ot just to what they say, but how they feel. Obsess over the details, because they speak louder than you think. And most importantly, learn to tell a good story. A well-crafted design solves problems, but a meaningful one also connects, comforts, and inspires.

If I could collaborate with any designer, it would be Toshiyuki Kita. His work beautifully balances tradition and innovation, and there's a kind of quiet optimism in everything he creates. I admire how he brings soul into objects鈥攈ow even a simple chair can feel alive, full of care, and culturally grounded. I鈥檇 love to learn from his sensitivity to materials and his ability to design things that feel both timeless and deeply human. I think our shared belief in gentle, purposeful design would make for a really meaningful collaboration.

I wish more people would ask, 鈥淲hat feeling do you hope people walk away with?鈥濃�攂ecause for me, design is as much about emotion as it is about function. I want people to feel a sense of ease, maybe even a quiet joy, when they interact with something I鈥檝e made. Not in a loud or flashy way, but in a soft, 鈥淥h, that鈥檚 nice鈥� kind of moment. If a design can make someone smile, feel understood, or breathe a little easier鈥攅ven just for a second鈥攖hat鈥檚 the kind of impact I鈥檓 chasing.