Tzuhsiang Lin

Certainly! My background is rooted in industrial and product design, with a particular passion for creating objects that blend aesthetic value with thoughtful functionality. I hold a master’s degree in Industrial Design from Pratt Institute in New York, where I deepened my interest in materiality, emotional design, and the social impact of objects. What drew me to design was a fascination with how things work—and more importantly, how they make people feel. Even as a child, I was always drawn to form, texture, and detail, whether in everyday objects or natural environments. Over time, this curiosity evolved into a desire to not just observe but to create. I find great meaning in designing artifacts that engage the senses and elevate daily experience, whether it’s through lighting, furniture, or home accessories. I didn’t always know I would become a designer, but I’ve always been a creator. What started as a love for drawing and building things gradually transformed into a focused pursuit of design as a way to express ideas and respond to human needs. Today, I see design not just as a profession, but as a way of thinking—an approach to the world that blends empathy, structure, and imagination.

Absolutely. My practice operates at the intersection of industrial design, material exploration, and visual storytelling. While I currently work independently, I often collaborate with other studios, brands, and manufacturers across product design, furniture, and visual design projects. My design approach focuses on creating objects that are not only functional and aesthetically engaging but also emotionally resonant. I’m particularly interested in how form and material can evoke a sense of calm, memory, or connection—often drawing from natural textures, cultural references, or sensory experiences. Many of my works, including the Nest Lamp and Crystal Home Decoration, are developed through iterative prototyping, 3D printing, and close dialogue with production partners. As a studio, the goal is to explore how design can bridge the poetic and the practical—crafting meaningful experiences through objects that people live with every day.

To me, design is a way of thinking—a process of observation, empathy, and problem-solving that goes beyond aesthetics. It’s about understanding how people live, what they feel, and how objects or systems can enhance those everyday experiences. Design is not just about making things look good; it’s about making them feel right—emotionally, functionally, and culturally. I see design as a bridge between intention and experience. Whether I’m working on a piece of lighting, a tactile surface, or a product system, I think of design as a language that communicates quietly but powerfully. It has the potential to improve lives, spark emotion, and create deeper connections between people and their environment. In short, design is how I interpret the world—and how I hope to give something meaningful back to it.

home accessories. I enjoy creating designs that evoke a quiet emotional response through thoughtful form, materiality, and subtle detail. I particularly like working on projects where there’s a balance between functional clarity and poetic expression. For example, in my Nest Lamp and Crystal Home Decoration, I explored how texture, light, and organic geometry could create a sense of calm and intimacy in a space. I enjoy this kind of work because it allows me to combine precision and craftsmanship with storytelling—designing not just for utility, but for atmosphere and feeling. Ultimately, I love designing pieces that have presence—works that people connect with on a sensory and emotional level, even if they can’t explain exactly why.

One of my favorite designs is a project that embraces minimalism—not just in appearance, but in intention. I’m deeply inspired by the idea that good design doesn’t need to shout. Instead, it quietly improves daily life through clarity, balance, and restraint. In one of my lighting projects, for example, I focused on reducing form to its essential geometry—removing excess until only what’s necessary remains. The result was a soft, sculptural object that blends into a space, yet subtly enhances its mood through thoughtful light and material contrast. There were no decorative elements—just proportion, texture, and atmosphere. What I find most powerful about minimal design is its ability to evoke emotion through simplicity. It asks the designer to be disciplined, yet poetic—to do more with less. That process of refining and reducing is something I find both challenging and deeply rewarding.

The first product I designed for a company was an air purifier—a compact, user-friendly device intended for modern home environments. It was an exciting challenge because it required balancing technical constraints, usability, and visual simplicity. My role involved rethinking how the product could integrate seamlessly into a living space while still communicating a sense of cleanliness and efficiency. I focused on using soft curves, tactile materials, and an intuitive user interface. One of the key features I worked on was the air outlet pattern, which not only improved airflow but also became a subtle design accent. That project taught me a lot about working with engineers, optimizing for manufacturing, and designing with both performance and emotional value in mind. It was a great introduction to the complexity—and reward—of real-world industrial design.

One of my favorite materials to work with is fabric. Unlike rigid materials, fabric offers a unique softness, flexibility, and breathability that can interact directly with the human body. I’ve always found it fascinating how textiles can provide both comfort and protection—not just visually, but physically and emotionally. What I appreciate most is how fabric adapts to movement, responds to touch, and allows for a kind of design that feels alive. Whether used in wearable technology, soft furniture, or acoustic environments, fabric introduces a layer of intimacy and responsiveness that’s hard to achieve with harder materials. To me, working with fabric isn’t just about surface—it’s about designing an experience that’s tactile, breathable, and inherently human.

I feel the most creative after I’ve had time to rest—whether that’s a good night’s sleep, a walk in nature, or simply stepping away from the project for a while. Rest helps me reset my perspective and return to the work with a clearer, more open mind. Some of my best ideas come not when I’m pushing hard, but when I’m relaxed and mentally refreshed. It’s in those quiet moments—after the noise settles—that unexpected connections and solutions tend to appear. I’ve learned that rest isn’t a break from creativity—it’s an essential part of the process.

When I’m designing, I tend to focus most on the relationship between form, function, and emotion. I pay close attention to how a product feels—both physically and emotionally—when someone interacts with it. That means considering proportions, textures, and usability from the very beginning. I also emphasize material choice and sensory experience, especially how light, shadow, or touch can elevate a design beyond pure utility. For me, good design should be intuitive and meaningful—it should quietly improve people’s lives without demanding attention. Balancing aesthetics with human-centered function is always at the core of my process.

When I design, I feel a mix of curiosity, calm, and quiet excitement. There’s a certain meditative rhythm in the process—especially when sketching or building forms—that allows me to become fully present. I enjoy the challenge of solving problems, but also the poetic side of shaping something that feels meaningful. There are moments of frustration, of course, especially when ideas don’t translate as expected—but those moments often lead to discovery. Most of all, I feel a deep sense of fulfillment when a design starts to come together in a way that’s both functional and emotionally resonant. It’s a subtle but powerful joy.

I feel a deep sense of fulfillment and quiet joy when my designs are realized—seeing an idea come to life and connect with people is incredibly rewarding.

A successful design is one that is visually compelling, functionally effective, and empathetic. It should attract attention through its form, solve real needs through its function, and connect with users on an emotional or human level. When these three aspects come together, the design becomes both meaningful and lasting.

When judging a design as good or bad, I first consider its clarity of purpose, functionality, and emotional impact. A good design should clearly communicate its intent, work effectively for its user, and evoke a feeling—whether it’s comfort, curiosity, or delight. If a design lacks usability or feels disconnected from human experience, even the most beautiful form can fall short.

From my perspective, a designer has a responsibility to create with awareness, empathy, and sustainability. We shape not just objects, but experiences and systems that affect how people live and how resources are used. That means being thoughtful about materials, minimizing waste, and designing products that are durable, meaningful, and respectful of the environment. Socially, I believe designers should also consider inclusivity, accessibility, and emotional well-being. Good design can improve lives—not just through innovation, but by fostering dignity, comfort, and connection. Ultimately, our role is not just to make things—but to make things better, for both people and the planet.

The design field is rapidly evolving, driven by technological advancements and a growing emphasis on sustainability and inclusivity. Artificial intelligence (AI) is increasingly integrated into design processes, enabling hyper-personalization and automating routine tasks, which allows designers to focus more on creative and strategic aspects .  Simultaneously, there’s a resurgence of interest in handcrafted and human-centered design, reflecting a desire for authenticity and personal connection in an increasingly digital world . Sustainable design practices are also gaining prominence, with a focus on eco-friendly materials and reducing environmental impact .   Looking ahead, the future of design lies in balancing technological innovation with human values, creating solutions that are not only efficient but also ethical and empathetic.

My most recent exhibition is currently ongoing at the Red Dot Design Museum in Singapore, where my project was selected as part of the Red Dot Design Concept Award Winners’ Exhibition. The exhibition showcases a curated selection of internationally awarded design concepts and will continue until October 2025. It’s an honor to have my work physically displayed in such a prestigious and globally recognized space. For my next exhibition, I hope to organize a solo or group show in New York or Tokyo, ideally in 2025 or 2026, where I can explore immersive storytelling through light, material, and minimal form—inviting visitors to interact closely with the emotional qualities of each piece.

My design inspiration often comes from observing the quiet details of everyday life—shadows on a wall, natural textures, or the way people interact with their environment. I’m especially drawn to organic forms, emotional memory, and the balance between softness and structure. To feed my creativity, I spend time walking, sketching freely, or exploring materials through hands-on experimentation. I also draw inspiration from art, architecture, and nature—spaces where form and feeling coexist. Sometimes, even silence or rest helps ideas surface more clearly. I believe creativity isn’t just about constant output—it’s about staying curious, noticing subtleties, and giving ideas time to evolve. For me, inspiration lives in small, often overlooked moments.

I would describe my design style as minimal, poetic, and material-driven. I’m drawn to forms that feel calm and intentional—where every curve, texture, and detail serves a purpose without excess. My work often explores the relationship between softness and structure, with a focus on emotional resonance and sensory experience. What led me to this style was a desire to design objects that people not only use, but connect with. I was especially inspired by Japanese and Scandinavian design philosophies, where restraint, nature, and atmosphere play key roles. I believe design doesn’t need to be loud to be powerful—it can be quiet, yet deeply meaningful. My approach is human-centered and iterative. I begin with careful observation, then explore form and material through sketches, models, and prototyping. Whether it’s lighting, furniture, or a tactile object, I aim to create designs that invite reflection and bring a sense of serenity into daily life.

I currently live in the United States, but I was born and raised in Taiwan. My cultural background definitely influences how I approach design. Taiwan’s unique blend of Eastern tradition and modern urban life has given me a strong sensitivity to balance—between simplicity and expression, nature and technology, restraint and warmth. Growing up in a culture that values subtlety, craftsmanship, and symbolism has shaped my appreciation for quiet details and the emotional power of materials. At the same time, living and studying in the U.S. has pushed me to be more experimental, open, and concept-driven. The advantage of this cross-cultural experience is that it gives me a wider lens to view design—merging poetic thinking with practical systems. The challenge, however, is navigating different design expectations and communication styles, especially when working across cultures. But I see this tension as a creative strength rather than a limitation.

When working with companies, I take a collaborative and research-driven approach. I begin by understanding the brand’s goals, target users, and market positioning. From there, I translate those insights into design solutions that balance creativity, functionality, and manufacturability. Depending on the project, I may be involved from concept development through prototyping and final design, or focus on a specific phase like CMF, packaging, or brand identity. I communicate closely with internal teams—such as marketing, engineering, and production—to ensure the design integrates seamlessly across departments. Whether through short-term contracts or long-term partnerships, I aim to bring thoughtful, emotionally engaging, and well-crafted design to every collaboration.

Companies should look for designers who not only have strong visual skills, but also think strategically and communicate well. A good designer asks questions, understands user needs, and aligns creativity with business goals. To work effectively with a designer, companies should provide clear objectives, trust the creative process, and keep communication open throughout the collaboration.

My design process begins with research and observation—understanding the user, the context, and the emotional goals of the product. I then move into sketching and ideation, exploring forms and functions through quick studies. From there, I create 3D models and prototypes to test proportions, materials, and interactions. Throughout, I refine the design through iteration and feedback, always aiming to balance clarity, function, and emotional resonance.

1.Anglepoise Desk Lamp – I love its timeless balance of form and function. It’s both sculptural and highly adjustable, which makes it a joy to use. 2.Muji Aroma Diffuser – Its simplicity and soft glow create a calming atmosphere. I admire how its design fades into the background while improving the space. 3.Hay Tray Table – Minimal, modular, and surprisingly versatile—it’s a great example of flexible living design. 4.Iittala Glass Vase – I appreciate how the curves catch the light. It feels like a quiet piece of art that also celebrates craftsmanship. 5.My own Crystal Home Decoration – It’s a reminder of my creative process and how material and light can interact in subtle, emotional ways.

A typical day starts with a quiet morning—coffee, a quick walk, and time to review my priorities. I usually begin work by sketching ideas or reviewing feedback from ongoing projects. Midday is often focused on design development: modeling in CAD, rendering visuals, or refining presentations. I like to break up screen time with hands-on prototyping or material testing when possible. Afternoons are for meetings or collaboration with clients and engineers. Evenings are more reflective—I take time to read, journal ideas, or simply reset. I try to leave space in each day for observation and stillness—both essential to my creative process.

My advice to young designers is to stay curious and stay patient. Don’t rush to find your “style” too early—focus instead on understanding people, materials, and context. Design is not just about making things beautiful; it’s about solving problems with empathy and intention. Be open to feedback, but also learn to trust your instincts. Explore widely, experiment often, and don’t be afraid to fail—that’s where real learning happens. Most importantly, design with honesty. Create work that reflects what you care about, and let that be your compass.

From my perspective, one of the greatest positives of being a designer is the ability to bring ideas to life—to shape objects, experiences, and environments that genuinely improve how people live and feel. It’s deeply fulfilling to solve problems creatively and see your work make a real impact. On the other hand, one challenge is that design often requires balancing creative vision with external constraints—tight timelines, budgets, or conflicting feedback. It can also be emotionally demanding, especially when your work is personal or goes through many revisions. But overall, the positives outweigh the negatives—because design is a meaningful way to connect creativity with purpose.

My golden rule in design is: “Design with empathy, refine with intention.” I believe every successful design starts with understanding the user—and every detail that follows should serve a purpose, both functionally and emotionally.

The most important skills for a designer are a balance of creative thinking, problem-solving, and empathy. Strong visual communication, attention to detail, and the ability to iterate and take feedback are also essential. Just as important are collaboration and curiosity—design is rarely done alone, and staying open to learning leads to better, more meaningful work.

My toolbox includes a mix of digital tools, physical materials, and creative references. For software, I use SolidWorks and Rhinoceros for 3D modeling, KeyShot for rendering, and Adobe Creative Suite—especially Illustrator, InDesign, and Photoshop—for graphic work and presentations. I also use Figma for UI-related projects and layout planning. On the hardware side, I often prototype with 3D printers, foam models, and basic hand tools to explore form and ergonomics. I also keep sketching supplies close—sometimes pencil and paper help me think faster than the screen. For inspiration, I turn to books on design theory, architecture, and material culture, as well as exhibitions, nature, and everyday observations. I also follow platforms like Designboom, Dezeen, and Frame Magazine to stay in touch with global trends and emerging ideas. My process blends both digital precision and tactile experimentation—each tool plays a different but essential role.

I manage my time by breaking the design process into clear stages—research, ideation, development, and refinement—setting realistic goals for each. I prioritize early decisions that shape the core direction, which helps reduce unnecessary revisions later. I also use tools like Notion or Trello to track tasks, and I block out focused time for deep work without distractions. Most importantly, I try to leave room for rest and reflection—stepping away briefly often leads to clearer thinking and better outcomes. Balancing structure with creative flexibility helps me stay productive without burning out.

It really depends on the scope of the project. For a small object or concept piece, the process—from research to final prototype—can take anywhere from 2 to 6 weeks. For more complex products involving engineering, user testing, and manufacturing considerations, it can extend to several months or even over a year. Personally, I believe in giving enough time for research, iteration, and refinement, because good design is rarely instant—it evolves through thoughtful development and meaningful feedback.

One of the most frequently asked questions I get as a designer is: “Where do your ideas come from?” People are often curious about the creative process—how a concept begins, and what inspires the final form. I always explain that ideas usually come from observing everyday life, understanding human needs, and then exploring how materials, form, and emotion can come together to tell a story or solve a problem.

One of my most important job experiences was working on the design of a compact air purifier for a home appliance company. It was the first time I led a project from concept to prototype, collaborating closely with engineers, marketers, and manufacturers. This experience taught me how to balance aesthetic intent with technical constraints, and how to communicate clearly across departments. It also reinforced the importance of user-centered thinking—designing not just for how a product looks, but how it feels and functions in daily life. It was a turning point that deepened my confidence as a designer.

I’ve worked with a mix of startups, design studios, and product manufacturers—particularly in the fields of home appliances, furniture, and consumer electronics. While some clients are under NDA, past collaborations include companies focused on sustainability, wellness, and smart home technologies.

I enjoy projects that involve material exploration and emotional storytelling, such as lighting, home objects, or tactile pieces. These types of designs allow me to combine function with atmosphere and invite a deeper sensory connection with the user.

I’m currently focusing on expanding my Nest Home Collection series and working toward a solo exhibition. I also plan to continue collaborating with international design studios while exploring fabric-based objects and wellness-oriented products.

It depends on the project. I often develop core concepts independently, but I also enjoy collaborating with engineers, visual designers, and manufacturers—especially during prototyping and production stages.

Yes—I’m currently working on a modular lighting system inspired by folding textiles, which explores how softness and structure can coexist. I’m also prototyping a scent diffuser that uses natural materials and minimal geometry to create a calm, multisensory experience.

I can be reached via email at 199554sean@gmail.com or through my website portfolio www.seanlinnn.design . I also welcome collaboration inquiries via LinkedIn.

Just that I believe good design is not only about what we create, but also how we listen, observe, and care. I’m always open to meaningful conversations and interdisciplinary partnerships that push the boundaries of what design can do—for people, culture, and the environment.

I’m an industrial designer with a background in both product and visual design. I earned my Master’s degree from Pratt Institute in New York, and over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to work with startups, manufacturers, and design studios across the U.S. and Asia. My work spans from consumer electronics and furniture to lighting and packaging. I’ve been fortunate to receive international recognition, including Red Dot and A’ Design Awards.

My interest in design began early—I was always curious about how objects were made and how they fit into people's lives. Over time, that curiosity turned into a passion for creating. I formally pursued this path through design education, and what drew me most was the ability to improve everyday experiences through thoughtful form and function.

I prioritize three things: emotional resonance, clarity of function, and material experience. I often begin with research and sketching, then transition into 3D modeling and prototyping. My style leans toward minimalism, with soft forms and strong attention to texture, light, and human interaction.

Designing brings me a sense of calm and curiosity. The most exciting moment is when a concept begins to feel real—when the ideas click into form. There's joy in making something that others will eventually connect with emotionally and physically.

Growing up in Taiwan and later living in the U.S. gave me a dual perspective on aesthetics, culture, and function. Non-design skills like storytelling, empathy, and adaptability have also been key in helping me communicate ideas clearly and collaborate across disciplines.

My goal is to expand my Nest Home Collection, continue working on wellness-oriented design, and eventually open my own multidisciplinary studio. I’d love to collaborate on public installations or sensory spaces that merge technology with tactile materials.

Stay curious and be patient. Don’t rush to find a signature style—focus instead on learning how to solve problems with empathy and creativity. Listen well, ask questions, and remember that design is a long game built on constant refinement.

Keep your process transparent and your mindset open. Never underestimate the power of prototyping and feedback. Avoid designing only for trends—create for people, and the work will always feel relevant.

I usually start my day with quiet time and sketching or reviewing feedback. Midday is for modeling or collaborating with clients. I like to break focus with short walks or reading, and I use evenings to reflect or prototype ideas.

I stay updated through design platforms like Dezeen and Frame, but I don’t chase trends. I believe in being aware of them, but staying grounded in what feels timeless and personally meaningful.

Good design is clear, purposeful, and emotionally resonant. If a design solves a need, communicates its function intuitively, and brings a sense of delight or calm—it’s successful in my eyes.

A design is ready when further changes begin to feel like noise, not refinement. I ask: does it fulfill its purpose? Is it clear? Is there emotional clarity? When the answer is yes, I let it go.

My Nest Lamp, which won the Red Dot Design Concept Award, is one of my most meaningful works. It explores emotional comfort through organic form and layered 3D-printed textures, creating light that feels both protective and poetic.

I admire Naoto Fukasawa for his subtlety and restraint, and how his designs feel both inevitable and human. I’m also inspired by Isamu Noguchi for his sculptural sensitivity and ability to cross disciplines.

I live between cultures—born in Taiwan, trained in New York—which deeply influences how I balance softness and structure in my work. I draw from both Eastern minimalism and Western narrative thinking.

I value clarity, trust, and thoughtful pacing. I work independently but often collaborate with other creatives or engineers. I believe good work comes from mutual respect and shared curiosity.

I occasionally mentor younger designers and volunteer design services for non-profit or environmental causes. I believe design should contribute to well-being, not just aesthetics.

Participating in the A’ Design Award gave me international visibility and connected me with a global design community. It was also validating to have my work recognized for both concept and execution. The top three benefits were: professional credibility, networking opportunities, and motivation to keep evolving as a designer.

I studied Industrial Design at Pratt Institute in New York and have worked across product, furniture, and visual design.

Design allows me to create meaningful experiences that improve daily life—it's both personal and purposeful.

I chose it naturally; I was always curious about how things are made and how they connect with people.

I design lighting, furniture, and home objects, and I’d love to explore more sensory and textile-based designs.

A great designer balances function and feeling—and designs with empathy.

Good design improves quality of life, builds connection, and lasts.

I’d love to design for wellness spaces—calming environments for overstimulated cities.

A public installation combining light, sound, and natural materials.

Fukasawa’s wall-mounted CD player—it’s poetic, simple, and user-centered.

The Nest Lamp—it merges emotional comfort with tactile, sculptural light.

Design is a way of thinking and feeling—shaping experiences through form and meaning.

My mentors and my family—always supportive, even in uncertainty.