Interviews with Wouter van Riet Paap

De Ontwerpdivisie is my answer to the changing world of architecture in The Netherlands. Making my own projects, taking initiative, and looking for spin-offs.

"Design" is the result of searching for the essence of an object.

Furniture and buildings.

Tavolo Livelli, the layered table, because it shows how beautifull simplicity can be.

A villa in Driebergen, The Netherlands.

Wood and steel are my favorite materials.

At the beginning of a design, when I make my first sketches.

How well the initial concept is still visible in the design.

Happiness and frustration.

Fulfillment

When people like it, when it is usefull to people.

First I consider whether I still like the design.

I think we (designers) should not harm our environment and by creating beauty I hope society gets a little more beautiful as well.

Design will be more personal, by using 3D printing and custom design over the internet.

I have not held an exhibition before.

My design inspiration primarily comes from my everyday live: When I need someting I design it, hopefully someone else needs it as well.

My design style is minimalism. I first explored this style in architecture during my studies and later implemented in my furniture design. I like to keep things simple.

I live in The Netherlands. The Netherlands have a strong tradition of design: Dutch design. I personally admire designers like Gerrit Rietveld.

I work with companies that I have learned to know in my work as an architect. I like to make them part of my succes.

Look at their designs, their way of working and who they are. Don't just consider their price.

First I sketch as a way to get ideas. When an idea is right I make 3D models to show to the client. I use their input to perfect it and than finalize the design in AutoCad.

Orange Slice, Eames DAR, Eames DSW, Artemide Tolomeo and the Tavolo Livelli

I go to work at the architecture office I work every day. When I finish there at about 18:00 I go home and start working on my own designs. It is quite intensive but the feeling when finishing a great design is worth it.

Follow your dreams and don't let anyone tell you it is too difficult. You can do it!

Positive: Being creative is wonderful. People are happy when you design something especially for them.
Negative: The importance of money/budget, especially as an architect.

Keep it simple.

To be able to visualize your ideas and to be able to make people enthusiastic for your ideas.

Handsketching, SketchUp, Rendering, AutoCad, Photoshop. Inspiration is found in my everyday life and own imagination.

Just work until you are too tired to continue, there is not a lot of managing involved.

That is always different.

How do you get these ideas?

To experience the power of your own enthusiasm.

Housing companies, private clients, developers.

I enjoy designing for my own house the most. Because I am probably my most critical client.

Expanding my collection of furniture with storage space. And selling them.

Mostly by myself.

I am currently designing a sofa with the same principles as the Tavolo Livelli.

They should sent me an email at: info@ontwerpdivisie.nl

No thank you.

Flat-packing wasn’t just a bonus — it was part of the design brief I set for myself from the beginning. I wanted to create a sculptural, distinctive chair that could be shipped affordably and assembled with minimal tools. This challenge pushed me to explore how parts could interlock and support each other structurally, which ultimately became part of the chair’s visual language. The assembly method is intuitive and almost poetic — like building something from a kit, but with architectural precision.

The idea started as a kind of design provocation: could I make a functional and comfortable chair using only one shape? That self-imposed constraint turned out to be incredibly productive. It forced me to think carefully about angles, structural behavior, and how each part contributes to the whole. Using just one CNC-cut element made production more efficient and minimized offcuts. Ironically, the limitation unlocked a lot of creativity — it turned problem-solving into a design strategy.

The 16-element versions were successful in their own way — they had a strong visual identity and worked well both structurally and ergonomically. However, they relied on a combination of materials, such as paper cord or fabric, to form the seat and backrest. I realized that if I wanted to push the idea of a single, repeating shape even further — not just formally, but also materially — I had to reduce the reliance on secondary components. That’s how the 39-element version emerged: it’s built entirely from one material and one shape, making the concept of modular purity as complete as possible.

The award is a huge encouragement — not just because it celebrates the design itself, but because it validates the thinking behind it. I’ve always believed that simplicity and sophistication aren’t opposites — they’re two sides of the same coin. Going forward, I’ll continue to explore how minimal forms can evoke emotional richness, and how constraints can be engines of elegance rather than limitations.

It took dozens of iterations to find the “golden triangle” — one that looked sharp, carried loads efficiently, and conformed to the human body. Each millimeter shift made a difference, especially in how the seat cradled the sitter or how the backrest met the spine. The final form isn’t just a result of drawing — it’s the product of sitting, adjusting, testing, and repeating. That process mirrors how buildings are refined during design development — the details make all the difference.

Design-led standardization means letting design guide the system, rather than letting the system dictate design. The Monomorph shows that standard parts don’t have to result in generic outcomes. By giving each identical element a unique role within a larger structure, the whole becomes more than the sum of its parts. I believe this approach has huge potential for sustainability: it allows for scalable production with minimal material diversity, yet offers visual richness and adaptability.

Versatility was always part of the ambition. The idea that you could build other pieces — a bench, a sofa, even a daybed — using the same building block was a kind of proof of concept. It’s modularity in its purest form. That adaptability comes not from compromise, but from a strong conceptual foundation: if the shape is right, the possibilities multiply. It’s a bit like LEGO — infinite variation from one smart piece.

In my architectural work, I often focus on transforming overlooked or undervalued spaces. With The Monomorph, I applied the same mindset to material and form — looking for untapped potential in repetition, in offcuts, in constraints. Traditional furniture design often starts with form and then adds structure; I reversed that process. By starting with structure, the form emerged naturally. That’s where design gets interesting — when it’s both honest and inventive.

Start with a clear constraint — not as a limitation, but as a creative tool. Innovation often comes from working within a tight framework. Also, prototype early and often. Let your hands — and your body — be part of the design process. And finally, don’t be afraid to rethink conventions. A chair doesn’t have to look like a chair, as long as it invites you to sit.