Interviews met Xubai Li

My background began in graphic design during undergrad, with a specialization in branding. However, the art of object-making and spatial design was always on my mind, so for my graduate degree, I shifted my focus to creating objects with a conceptual presence rather than just functional furniture. I currently work mostly solo while maintaining personal connections with trusted studios and factories back home.

The initial spark came in my childhood when I saw a Henry Moore sculpture. I was moved by its tenderness and spatial serenity. It was more than emotional expression; there was a strong presence of design and editorial intuition that showed me the crossed paths of art and design. This internal drive to bridge conceptual presence with physical objects naturally led me to where I am today.

My style is visually minimalistic but conceptually complex. I prioritize the play of space, the trick of hide-and-seek, and the subtlety of unbalanced composition so that an object holds attention past the first glance. Technically, I rely heavily on digital fabrication. I use 3D modeling and 3D printing to fabricate testing samples at smaller scales to perfect the visual elegance and ratio before full production.

During the creation phase, I feel a sense of "spiraling"—it is an intense, descending immersion into a concept. Conversely, the moment a design is fully realized and I see the physical object, I feel it is a moment to learn. Reality always teaches me about the discrepancy between imagination and physical creation.

My cultural heritage from China has profoundly shaped me, not through overt visual symbols, but as an ideology. As detailed in my thesis, Out of Consumption Out of Context Into Recursion, I use my culture as comparative literature against Western design progressions like modernism and postmodernism. Furthermore, I draw heavy inspiration from other disciplines outside my own, particularly fashion.

Work in a multidisciplinary style. Treat art and design together. As AI and machine learning continue to master isolated physical tasks, being a one-trick pony will leave you at the mercy of industrial powers. The true scarcity in human design is the ability to draw abstract, conceptual links between random disciplines.

My biggest pro-tip is to embrace resting and choosing not to create. The mind and body are a whole being. If you keep the bow pulled tightly at all times, the tension will fade and the elasticity will die out. Let go of the idea that you must create 24/7.

A typical day mainly involves dealing with ongoing work, testing phases, and manufacturer requests. However, I deliberately reserve a small pocket of time simply to "wonder" about random things. These wandering moments accumulate and inevitably lead to richer creative outcomes.

I don't rely on fleeting seasonal trends. Instead, I draw inspiration from deeper cultural ideologies, comparative literature, and other disciplines (like avant-garde fashion). True creativity lies in multidisciplinary approaches, not just reflecting what is hip at the moment.

Good design is defined by a sense of unity—specifically the union between form and function, and/or the union between expression and execution. I know a design is successful when it is something I can ruminate over, whether it is a small detail to analyze or a larger conceptual message to chew on.

My favorite and most prominent piece so far is a switch light called "Turn on Light." It is a straightforward answer to deconstructing a design trope, and it carries a distinct formal similarity to Maison Margiela's work, bridging my love for fashion with object-making.

My favorite and most prominent piece so far is a switch light called "Turn on Light." It is a straightforward answer to deconstructing a design trope, and it carries a distinct formal similarity to Maison Margiela's work, bridging my love for fashion with object-making.

I am currently based in the US. The cultural heritage of my home country weaves into my lifestyle and work conceptually. While few people may fully understand my tie to my culture in the context of metamodernism, those who are drawn to it understand exactly what I want to express and offer their time generously.

The main inspiration stems from the concept of origami and the pursuit of unified, looping shapes. Additionally, it was driven by a desire to explore the unification of interior spaces and exterior environments, blending the two through a cohesive form.

My primary focus was to create a "formal being." I wanted to achieve a piece that serves seamlessly as a functional object while presenting itself entirely as a standalone sculpture.

I am actively seeking licensing opportunities and exploring partnerships with collaborators who have specialized manufacturing capabilities. Because the design is highly adaptable, I plan to utilize adaptive coding to explore it in various shapes and scales.

The core design development took about three months. The manufacturing schedule extended to nearly a year, as this project was part of a broader collaborative initiative involving the manufacturer and several other designers.

This concept began as a personal venture that evolved alongside a collaboration with Bestcase, a studio specializing in aluminum furniture manufacturing. After touring their factory and understanding their specific material capabilities and constraints, I was inspired to pursue this exact sculptural form.

Currently, it has been manufactured through my collaboration with Bestcase. For the future, my intent is to lease or sell the production rights and secure licensing agreements rather than producing the work myself.

Touring the manufacturer's factory was the primary catalyst. Understanding the exact mechanical processes, capabilities, and strict limitations of sheet metal fabrication dictated the creation of this specific type of work.

Rather than looking at traditional furniture, I was deeply influenced by sculptors and spatial artists from other disciplines, particularly Rachel Whiteread, Henry Moore, and Es Devlin.

The target customer includes buyers looking for sophisticated, minimalistic interior design items, as well as architects or interior designers outfitting large common spaces that require a minimalist centerpiece.

What sets this design apart is its origin: it does not begin with a strict furniture silhouette. While there are many sheet metal and aluminum furniture pieces on the market, they typically rely on rigid assembly processes and lean heavily into industrial aesthetics. My design prioritizes a seamless, sculptural concept first.

I named the design "Uni." The name refers directly to the concept of unification—the idea of a single, looping shape, as well as the broader theme of unifying interior and exterior environments.

The most unique aspect of the design is its striking "seamlessness," combined with the deliberate hollowing of the structure to create an intriguing spatial presence.

The project required rigorous digital modeling and the creation of highly precise laser-cutting blueprints. Physical tools utilized during production included industrial laser-cutting machines for large, thick metal sheets, as well as dies and metal rollers.

Technology played a critical role in execution and precision. Advanced digital modeling and laser-cutting technology were essential to achieve the exact geometry. Looking forward, adaptive coding and parametric modeling will allow the design to easily scale and morph into new iterations.

The primary research conducted was an intensive analysis of manufacturing capabilities. I did a deep dive into factory processes, studying the exact tolerances and limitations of sheet metal fabrication to ensure the theoretical design could become a physical reality.

Interestingly, the initial design concept barely changed from start to finish. The primary challenge was the meticulous tweaking and correcting required for the digital models and laser-cutting blueprints. Because the shape is so minimal, there is absolutely no wiggle room for mistakes, and sheet metal does not allow for many corrective processes after the initial cut.

I have recognized and respected this international competition for some time and felt that the finalized piece—and the rigor of the design process behind it—strongly aligned with the caliber of work celebrated here.

The most significant area of professional growth was learning how to effectively communicate and collaborate with industrial manufacturers, successfully bridging the gap between an abstract sculptural concept and a mechanical reality.

A vital aspect of "Uni" is its scalability. It is not size-specific. Through adaptive modeling, the core concept can be applied to any scale and adapted into countless shapes, making it incredibly versatile for both private homes and monumental public spaces.

I studied graphic design in undergrad, specializing in branding, but my grad degree focused on object-making and spatial design, aiming to create objects with a conceptual presence.

The intersection of art and design. Seeing a Henry Moore sculpture as a child showed me the tenderness, spatial serenity, and editorial intuition that art and object-making can hold.

It was a natural choice stemming from that early childhood realization.

I design objects that occupy space with a conceptual presence, balancing visual minimalism with complex concepts.

I design objects that occupy space with a conceptual presence, balancing visual minimalism with complex concepts.

A great designer has the ability to draw abstract, conceptual, and creational links between and among random disciplines, rather than just mastering an isolated physical skill.

A sense of unity—the union between form and function, and/or expression and execution. It must be something to ruminate over.

Resting and choosing not to create. Keeping the mind and body's elasticity by not treating it like a constantly pulled bow.

Henry Moore and Maison Margiela.

Shao Fan's chair in the MET. It carries out the idea of unity perfectly.

A switch light called "Turn on Light." It is a straightforward answer to deconstructing a design trope and carries a distinct formal similarity to Margiela's work.

Learn from the art of reality. Embrace the realization that there is always a discrepancy between imagination and physical creation, and use that as a learning moment.

Probably a lawyer or some profession related to the law or PR.

It is a discipline where art and design must be treated together, requiring an ideological and multidisciplinary approach.

I would thank my parents and my long time friends.

Reserving time to just "wonder." Those wandering moments accumulate and lead to richer outcomes.

To leave behind an authentic, original legacy.

Yes. Even the smallest things people see on the road have been designed by someone at a certain place in time.

A shift away from isolated professions and one-trick ponies, moving toward multidisciplinary abstraction.

With AI harvesting data to perfect mechanical and physical tasks, isolated professions will fall into the hands of industrial powers. Human design will survive through multidisciplinary, abstract synthesis.

It heavily depends on the testing phase (which I control) and manufacturing lead times (which I do not).

I begin with digital fabrication, specifically 3D modeling.

I begin with digital fabrication, specifically 3D modeling.

By rigorously fabricating testing samples in smaller scales to study visual elegance and ratio before full production.

The seeds were planted early when I was deeply moved by the spatial serenity of Henry Moore's sculptures.

I previously studied graphic design in undergrad, specializing in branding, but the art of object making and spatial design was always in the back of my mind. I vividly remember seeing a Henry Moore sculpture in my childhood; the tenderness, spatial serenity, and editorial intuition spoke to me. It showed me that art and design have many crossed paths. When pursuing my grad degree, I aimed to make objects with a conceptual presence, rather than just functional furniture.

I work mainly by myself, while maintaining personal connections with several studios and factories back home.

Design is a balance between art and function—it is a discipline that requires multidisciplinary approaches, uniting form, function, expression, and execution.

I enjoy making objects that occupy space with a conceptual presence. My style is visually minimalistic but conceptually complex.

My favorite from my own work so far is a switch light called "Turn on Light." It is a very straightforward answer to deconstructing a design trope, and it carries a distinct formal similarity to Maison Margiela's work, drawing inspiration from fashion design.

I am mostly drawn to digital fabrication processes like 3D modeling and 3D printing to create and test scaling samples.

Ironically, I feel the most creative when I am resting and choosing not to create. The mind and body are a whole being. You cannot keep a bow pulled tightly at all times, or the tension will fade and the elasticity will die out. Letting go of the idea that I "must" create allows me to recharge.

I focus heavily on visual elegance and ratio, the play of space, the trick of hide-and-seek, and the subtlety of unbalanced compositions. This ensures a minimalist object holds attention past the first glance.

I feel a sense of "spiraling" when I am creating things. It isn't a plain and simple feeling, but spiraling is the most accurate word to describe that intense descent into a concept.

When I see the fully realized object, I usually feel it is a moment to learn. The art of reality always teaches me the discrepancy between imagination and physical creation.

A truly successful design is something I would ruminate over, whether it is a small detail to analyze or a conceptual message to chew on.

I judge based on a sense of unity—the union between form and function, and/or the union between expression and execution.

With the emergence of AI, machine learning will eventually master physical and isolated tasks, much like what happened during the Industrial Revolution. The future of human design lies in multidisciplinary approaches and the ability to draw abstract, conceptual links between random disciplines.

It was Collectible Brussels 2026. I would want to have more opportunities in Europe.

I draw inspiration from my cultural background, artists from other disciplines (like fashion), and resting. Resting is the most important way I feed my creativity.

Visually minimalistic but conceptually complex. I utilize the play of space, hide-and-seek elements, and unbalanced compositions so the piece remains engaging.

I am based in the US. My cultural heritage from China acts as an ideology rather than overt symbols (like yin/yang). As detailed in my thesis, Out of Consumption Out of Context Into Recursion, my culture acts as comparative literature to Western design progressions (modernism/postmodernism), placing metamodernism in conversation with ancient Chinese texts. The pros and cons are two sides of the same coin: few people truly understand my cultural ties, but those who are drawn to it understand my expression and offer their time generously.

A typical day consists of dealing with ongoing work and requests, but I intentionally reserve time to just "wonder" about random things. I cherish these wandering moments because they accumulate and lead to a richer creative outcome.

Work in a multidisciplinary style. Treat art and design together. Don't be a one-trick pony.

The ability to draw abstract, conceptual, and creational links between random disciplines.

I manage my time by ensuring I don't force constant creation. I schedule time to wonder, and I embrace rest so my mind retains its "elasticity."

The time frame heavily depends on the testing phase (which I can control) and the manufacturing lead times (which rely on the good faith of the manufacturers).

Through my website and email: www.xubai.design and xubai.design@gmail.com

The conversation around interdisciplinary creation hasn't been explored enough. Even though the design award shines a light on highly executed, professional pieces within the furniture discipline, the discussion could be expanded to include the dialogue between furniture in domestic spaces and public installations.

In highly compact spaces, people desire pieces that serve as both functional furniture and aesthetic enhancements to the overall interior staging. The Uni Side Table not only adds nuance to the interplay of positive and negative space, but it also adapts to an interior freely, working interchangeably as a side table, a coffee table, or a bedside table.

In the flux of fast furniture and highly advanced industrial processes, it is rare to find pieces made from raw materials, as they require a certain level of maintenance and possess very specific characteristics. Still, in a sea of color-coated aluminum, there is room for easily maintainable furniture—much like a hardwood cutting board that you can care for at home. Furthermore, the raw material speaks to the wabi-sabi aesthetic; it holds a quiet presence in a room full of other raw materials, perfectly aligning with Uni's intended structure as a seemingly circular, continuous being.

The answer lies not in bridging cultures, but rather in the universality of materials across them. There is a global tradition of using raw materials accompanied by lightly hand-applied polishes. Additionally, the visual structure of a continuous flow is universal, appearing in both Eastern Taoist aesthetics and Western motifs like the three hares symbol.

Translating the thickness was the most critical step, and modeling with quarter-inch corrugated plastic boards helped tremendously.

The inspiration came from the Möbius strip and the way it seamlessly glides into different dimensions. I wondered if the usual distinction between a tabletop and its supports could share that same continuous, smooth transition.

During that same time period, I designed a nesting set called the Fractal System; as the name suggests, its forms were translated from fractal drawings.

As touched upon in previous answers, it opens a dialogue about how "functional" a piece of furniture needs to be. Does it always have to rely on the same silhouette? Must it always serve a singular purpose?

I wasn't deliberately trying to create the appearance of a dense block. From the beginning, the metal was treated as a sheet material, much like paper, making it very natural to carry that spirit through the folds.

The main takeaway is that there is no need to dissect an object into compartments before designing it; a design can stem directly from a conceptual idea or an intuitive, creative shape. Once that general form is born, the function can naturally follow.