Kewei Zhao

Ever since I was a kid, drawing has been my biggest passion. Early on, though, I discovered I also had a strong interest in design. By the time I was twelve, I had already decided that I wanted to become a designer—it’s actually the first career I ever imagined for myself, and I’ve never changed my mind. I’ve always felt deeply curious about the world around me, constantly exploring and questioning how things work or how they could be improved. To me, that’s exactly what design is all about. So when I first learned that design was something you could actually study in college, I was incredibly excited. It wasn’t an interest only a few people understand—it was a real job, a recognized academic discipline. From that moment on, I knew exactly what I wanted to do: become a designer.

Studio ZKW is an independent furniture brand rooted in the nature and the refinement of meticulous craftsmanship.The studio is known for its original technique of sewing wood veneer, and continues to explore traditional methods such as carving, marquetry, and painting, thoughtfully integrating these into contemporary furniture design. Its work draws inspiration from natural landscapes and materials, integrating personal narratives into the design language to create a distinct visual identity. Studio ZKW emphasizes the integration of traditional craftsmanship with contemporary design.

I see design as a continuous dialogue between people, materials, and context. It begins with curiosity—about everyday life, about nature, about small details we often overlook. Through design, I seek to bring new perspectives and moments of reflection into daily experiences. It’s also a tool for change, not necessarily dramatic, but incremental and meaningful. Whether through form, experience, or concept, design allows me to reshape familiarity and imagine new ways of living.

I’m most drawn to designing furniture and everyday objects that combine functional purpose with emotional resonance. A good design is like starting a conversation with the user. Things that feel intuitive, tactile, relatable, and enriching to our daily lives.

One of my favorite designs is a project titled “Take a Break”. It’s a two pieces furniture set inspired by the brick facades commonly seen in Brooklyn, where I live. The name is a play on words—“break” echoes “brick,” referencing both its structural inspiration and the idea of rest. When separated, one piece becomes a bench and shelf; when combined, it functions as a large side table. In this piece, i explored a experimental craft technique about wood veneer and textile. All the surfaces and edges are wrapped in sewing threads, creating a soft and gentle tactile experience on the wooden surface. This is also the world’s first piece of furniture made using a sewn wood veneer technique.

The first thing I designed was a holiday poster for a company’s Mid-Autumn Festival campaign. Although it was a graphic project, I spent an entire month developing and refining the concept because I wanted every detail to be just right. To this day, it remains one of the works I’m most proud of. The goal was to showcase a set of five white porcelain plates the company had recently launched, while also celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival. One of the key features of the plates is the gradually decreasing size, allowing them to be stacked into a tower-like form. In Chinese culture, white porcelain is often associated with the full moon, especially during the Mid-Autumn Festival—the night of the fullest moon. I arranged the five plates in a formation that mimicked the moon’s phases, from crescent to full, following a subtle curve, set against a deep black night sky. The largest one sat at the top, representing the full moon, while the smallest was partially obscured by shadow at the bottom. From afar, the design looked like a diagram of the moon phase, but upon closer inspection, viewers would realize that the “moons” were actually the porcelain plates. I loved the subtle layering of meaning, and it felt rewarding to express both cultural symbolism and product identity in a single image.

For me, it’s definitely wood—I feel a natural connection to it. I especially love working with carving and marquetry. There’s something incredibly calming and grounding about the process of shaping wood by hand, and I enjoy how each piece of wood has its own grain, character. Carving gives me the freedom to work intuitively, almost like sketching in three dimensions, while marquetry allow me to be more delicate and deliberate, almost like painting with thin layers of wood. these technique help me a lot in the expression of my design idea.

I feel the most creative at the beginning of a project. That initial stage, when everything is still open and undefined, is full of possibility.

For me, the three most important aspects of design are innovation, form and artistic language, and social value. These are the focus of my design thinking. In the early phase, I concentrate on rethinking familiar objects or concepts and be innovative. In the middle phase, aesthetics become central. I believe good design is always a seamless integration of function and form—something that feels intuitive, beautiful, and inviting. Toward the end of the design process, what matters most is whether the work resonates with the present social context and deliver a meaningful value. To me, this is where design fundamentally differs from pure art—its social relevance must be timely and tangible.

When I’m designing, to be honest, I don't tend to have emotions or if i have they might be considered as negative. The beginning of the process is always the most exciting, but for most of the design process, I don’t feel excited at all. I think part of this comes from becoming too familiar with this design plan. More importantly, the middle phase is often about solving one problem after another, and that can be incredibly demanding. There are moments when the work becomes exhausting. I find myself exploring every possible direction, only to realize that none of them seem to lead anywhere. In those times, staying calm and holding on to a strong sense of persistence becomes absolutely essential. It’s like moving through a long tunnel, and you're lost in the middle. What keeps me going is an faith in learning. I remind myself that even if I try everything and the result turns out to be a bad design, that’s okay. At least it’s a bad design others can learn from—and that, too, has its value.

Of course, there’s joy and a deep sense of accomplishment when a project is finally completed. But what continues to draw me in is the ongoing opportunity to learn, to observe, and to rethink what’s possible. I’m endlessly fascinated by the human capacity to break boundaries, reinvent, and create something entirely new—again and again.

For me, a good design balances functionality, emotional resonance, and social value. It addresses a problem with thoughtfulness, or adds emotional depth, and ideally raises new questions or perspectives that encourage self-reflection. If a design can shift how people see something and contribute meaningfully to society, I consider that a true success.

The first thing I notice is the overall appearance—whether the form reflects its function and/or creates a strong first impression. I then consider the logic behind the design: does it effectively serve its intended purpose, and is it thoughtfully tailored to its context and users? I also pay attention to material choices, scale, and usability, as well as whether the piece offers something unique compared to similar designs. For more artistic work, I focus on its aesthetic value and conceptual clarity—whether it evokes emotion or tells a compelling story.

I believe designers carry a deep responsibility to create work that is not only functional and beautiful, but also ethical, sustainable, and socially aware. Our decisions of materials, processes, production, and messaging, can shape behavior and influence people interaction in many ways. Designers should consider the environmental impact of their choices and aim to reduce waste, promote longevity, and encourage mindful consumption.

The design field is evolving rapidly. Areas like systems mindset, emotional experience, and ethical responsibility. With the rise of AI, digital tools, and sustainable technologies, designers are no longer just creating objects—they’re shaping interactions, behaviors, and even values and collective belief.

My most recent exhibition was at ICFF 2025 in New York, as part of the Look Book program, where I showcased a new series exploring material innovation through wood veneer and soft textile. It was a meaningful experience to connect with both industry professionals, artists and a wider audience. For my next exhibition, I hope to showcase in Europe or Asia within the next year. ideally in Milan Design Week. I’m currently developing a few pieces that I’m excited to share soon.

Much of my inspiration comes from simply observing the world around me. I tend to view things in a kind of future tense—always thinking about how something could be improved, or where new possibilities might exist. I’m particularly drawn to problems or imperfections, because they present opportunities for growth. For designers, these flaws aren’t setbacks—they’re invitations to create solutions, to engage with the world through making. I feed my creativity through wide-ranging reading. Literature, in particular, allows me to step into different perspectives and understand how culture and society shape human thought. It expands my limited personal experience and opens up entirely new ways of seeing. To me, life itself is the most fundamental source of inspiration—and since every form of art ultimately draws from life, I find that reading becomes a direct path to creative insight.

My design style can be described as poetic, gentle, and thoughtful. I focus on detail and craftsmanship, bringing a sincere intention into each piece, with the hope that it resonates with those who use it. What draws me to this approach is the desire to create objects that invite reflection and dialogue, rather than demand attention. My process begins with material and context. I explore through material experimentation, often working hands-on with prototypes and allowing the process to guide the outcome. At its core, I see design as a form of storytelling—one that speaks without words, yet leaves a lasting impression.

I was born and raised in China, Chinese aesthetics often emphasize harmony, subtlety, and symbolism, and these values naturally influence my material choices and visual language. I currently live in Brooklyn, New York。Living in the U.S. gives me freedom to experiment and engage with a global design community, but it also means navigating a fast-paced and highly competitive environment. One challenge is balancing cultural sensitivity with the need to stay innovative and relevant. Still, I see this cross-cultural perspective as a strength—it allows me to create work that feels both rooted and forward-thinking.

I approach collaborations with companies as a balance between creative exploration and practical problem-solving. My process typically begins with understanding the company’s values, goals, and user needs, followed by research, ideation, and hands-on prototyping. I enjoy working closely with clients to develop designs that are aesthetically distinctive, technically feasible, and aligned with brand identity.

For companies looking to work with a designer, my suggestion is to look beyond just the portfolio. A good designer should not only have a strong sense of aesthetics but also be able to translate ideas into practical, meaningful solutions. Ultimately, a good designer is someone who brings both vision and adaptability, and who can help shape not just a product, but the story and experience around it.

My design process usually begins with a moment of observation, something small in daily life, nature, or material that sparks an idea. I start by sketching and exploring forms through mockups. I believe in thinking through making, so hands-on experimentation plays a big role in how my ideas evolve. I often develop custom techniques tailored to the concept. For example, my self-developed method of sewing wood veneer emerged from a desire to combine the softness of textiles with the structure of wood. Throughout the process, I strive to balance functionality, emotional resonance, and material and form, refining every detail until it feels intuitive and conveys the idea of the design.

My day usually starts with an alarm clock — although if I wake up hungry, I’ll get up earlier and make breakfast first. After that, I head to my studio and begin the day with some computer work, answering emails or organizing my project tasks. If I’m working on a design or a new piece, I’ll spend most of the day experimenting with materials, sketching, or building prototypes. Some days are more hands-on in the workshop, while others are quieter, with more research or planning. I typically wrap up in the evening and head home to relax or read, ready for the next day.

I’m someone who often has too many ideas, and it can be quite overwhelming at times. So if you struggle with the same thing, here’s one tip: before you start your day, write down exactly what you need to do — and then focus only on those tasks. Forget about everything else for the time being. You’ll be surprised how much more productive you can be.

The benefit of this work is its incredible variety. As a product designer, there’s no field you can’t explore. One project might involve designing furniture, the next might be an electronic device — you have the chance to work with a wide range of clients, which makes the job very interesting. The downsides are that the pay is relatively low, the work often requires overtime, and many tasks involve constant experimentation until you get it right. There’s no set formula in design, so much of the process is unpredictable. That uncertainty can sometimes feel like a deep abyss.

i don't have golden rule. I think every design is different.

I think the most important quality is the ability to take risks and make mistakes. In many ways, I see designers as the inventors of our time. It takes sharp observation, bold ideas, and careful testing to create products that truly fit the needs of people today. But first and foremost, you have to be willing to make mistakes. If you’re too afraid to try because no one has done it before, or if you give up just because an authority figure disagrees, you’ll never move forward. Additionally, I believe this is true in many other fields as well.

I usually spend about three days gathering inspiration, followed by one week to develop the first draft of the design plan. If it’s a furniture project, I will also build a prototype to better understand the scale and proportions. The middle phase typically takes two weeks to two months, depending on the complexity of the project. The final phase is usually less than one month, as I set a clear goal during the middle stage and avoid making major changes to the design after that point.

I’m often asked how I decide when a design is complete. For me, it comes down to objective factors: whether the product’s core functions have been fully realized, and how well its form supports those functions. I evaluate the design from multiple perspectives to determine whether it represents the "optimal solution" for the project.

The most important experience for me was my internship at a big furniture company. It taught me a lot about how different people approach their work, and also gave me the chance to reflect on my own working style. Working in a large company was especially helpful in this way: it allowed me to better understand both my strengths and areas where I need improvement. This experience has been very valuable in helping me clarify the direction I want to take in my career.

I enjoy experimental projects the most. They allow me to explore bold ideas and venture into new areas of research — it feels as exciting as discovering new territory.

My future plan is to continue developing my furniture practice and to seek opportunities for collaboration with other furniture brands. My main focus is on the technique of sewing wood veneer, so I will be doing more material research in this area. Such as exploring combinations of wood veneer and textiles, the textures created by sewing veneer to veneer, and experimenting with irregular cutting techniques and new craftsmanship approaches. There are many exciting directions to explore.

I develop my designs independently. Most of my work is handcrafted furniture that expresses my personal vision, so I aim to complete each piece on my own. It often feels much like creating a painting. It’s important to me to carefully consider every detail before bringing the piece to life.

Yes, I have a new series of cushion designs inspired by the image of an embracing figure. The pillow is shaped to appear as though it is being gently held by a two arms, conveying a sense of comfort and intimacy. The idea is to offer the user the warmth of being embraced through the softness of the object.

People can contact me via email at keweizhao.ewe@gmail.com or through Instagram: @studio.zkw.

I earned my Bachelor’s degree in Industrial Design from the China Academy of Art, and subsequently completed my Master’s degree in Furniture Design at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) in the United States. During my studies, I gained professional experience through internships and junior design roles, working as an intern designer at Hangzhou Wahaha Group Co., Ltd., as a junior designer at Bentu Design, and later as a furniture designer at Sentient Furniture. Continuing to pursue my passion in furniture design, I founded Studio ZKW, where I maintain an active design practice.

Ever since I was a kid, drawing has been my biggest passion. Early on, though, I discovered I also had a strong interest in design. By the time I was twelve, I had already decided that I wanted to become a designer—it’s actually the first career I ever imagined for myself, and I’ve never changed my mind. I’ve always felt deeply curious about the world around me, constantly exploring and questioning how things work or how they could be improved. To me, that’s exactly what design is all about. So when I first learned that design was something you could actually study in college, I was incredibly excited. It wasn’t an interest only a few people understand—it was a real job, a recognized academic discipline. From that moment on, I knew exactly what I wanted to do: become a designer.

For me, the three most important aspects of design are innovation, form and artistic language, and social value. These also represent the evolving focus of my design thinking. In the early phase, I concentrate on finding ways to rethink familiar objects or structures and be innovative. In the middle phase, aesthetics become central. I believe good design is always a seamless integration of function and form—something that feels intuitive, beautiful, and inviting. Toward the end of the design process, what matters most is whether the work resonates with the present social context and deliver the meaningful value. To me, this is where design fundamentally differs from pure art—its social relevance must be timely and tangible. My process often involves hands-on experimentation and physical prototyping. As a furniture designer, I typically start by building prototypes early on, then iterate and refine the design through direct engagement with materials and form.

For me, the beginning of the design process is always the most exciting. And as the project moves forward, that initial excitement often fades. Part of it, I think, comes from becoming more familiar with the concept itself—what once felt full of potential starts to take on a more defined shape. But more importantly, design is inherently a process of solving one problem after another, and that can be incredibly demanding. There are times when the work becomes mentally exhausting. I find myself chasing every possible direction, only to realize that none of them seem to lead anywhere. In those moments, staying calm and holding on to a strong sense of persistence becomes absolutely essential. Of course, there’s joy and a deep sense of accomplishment when a project is finally completed. But what continues to draw me in is the ongoing opportunity to learn, to observe, and to rethink what’s possible. I’m endlessly fascinated by the human capacity to break boundaries, reinvent, and create something entirely new—again and again.

One of the most important has been logical thinking and reasoning. These skills help me approach each project with a clear, structured mindset—breaking down complex problems, identifying patterns, and building solutions that are both practical and conceptually sound. Equally important is my personality—I’m a good listener. These qualities have helped me build strong collaborations and truly understand the needs of others, whether I’m working with clients, craftsmen, or within a design team.

My growth path begins with developing my own independent furniture brand, with the goal of exhibiting internationally—particularly in the U.S. and Europe—and collaborating with galleries that support emerging designers. This stage allows me to establish my voice and presence in the collectible design world through thoughtful, material-driven works. Looking further ahead, I hope to gradually expand into design consulting and eventually build a multidisciplinary design studio. I’m especially interested in partnering with other furniture brands to create everyday objects for a wider audience—designs that are not only functional, but also emotionally resonant and accessible in daily life. At the same time, I’m deeply aware of the growing role of artificial intelligence in shaping how we live. Whether AI proves to be one of the greatest achievements of our century or a challenge to the way we exist, it’s clear that its presence will redefine our relationship with everyday objects. I hope to contribute meaningfully to this conversation by exploring the intersection of AI and design—particularly through the creation of intelligent household products that reflect both the possibilities and the ethical considerations of a tech-integrated future.

My biggest advice to young designers is: don’t aim too high too soon—stay grounded. It’s easy to be captivated by grand visions or the idea of becoming a well-known designer overnight, but design is, at its core, a deeply practical discipline. Real growth comes through experience—by working on a wide range of projects, facing constraints, making mistakes, and learning from them. One thing I’ve learned is that there’s often a huge gap between design theory and real-world practice. What works in your sketchbook or portfolio might not hold up in production, or in daily use. That’s why it’s so important to stay humble and open-minded, and to continuously test your ideas against reality. To grow, I focus on hands-on experimentation and close engagement with materials and users. Over time, those experiences accumulate into confidence and intuition, which no textbook can teach. There are no shortcuts—it’s about showing up, doing the work, and learning from the process.

If there’s one principle that has guided my path as a designer, it’s this: never repeat what has already been done. My work is driven by a commitment to innovation—I’m always searching for new ways of solving problems or a new perspective of objects and life style. I know many people believe that in today’s world that there are no truly new ideas left. But I don’t agree. I believe that if people want to make a meaningful contribution to their field, they must be something new. Not every idea will be accepted. And that’s okay. Innovation doesn’t always lead to immediate approval or recognition. But over time, persistent exploration in a specific field leads to breakthroughs, and that’s where real growth and distinction come from.

I typically take Mondays and Thursdays off, and dedicate the rest of the week to work. When there are no pressing orders or exhibition deadlines, I spend most of my time developing new designs. During those quieter periods, I have the flexibility to manage my own schedule, and I usually don’t work too late into the night. However, when I’m preparing for an exhibition or fulfilling orders, things become much more intensive. It’s not uncommon for me to work overtime during those times. I really enjoy the balance between focused, creative exploration and the fast-paced, deadline-driven energy that comes with preparing for a show. Each brings its own kind of motivation.

I tend to focus more on developing my own design language rather than following current trends. My work is primarily centered around furniture, and it’s deeply rooted in a strong personal aesthetic—something that doesn’t rely on market trends to take shape or find relevance. While I stay aware of what’s happening in the design world, I don’t let trends dictate my creative direction. Many of my ideas come from personal reflection and everyday observations. I’m more interested in creating pieces that speak to individual experiences and form a quiet dialogue between the object and its user. For me, design is less about responding to what’s fashionable and more about expressing a point of view that feels honest, thoughtful, and lasting.

For me, the first impression often starts with appearance—how the design visually communicates its purpose. A well-designed product should clearly express its function through its form. Beyond that, I look at whether the design is logically aligned with its intended use and context. Does it solve a real problem? Does it offer greater value compared to similar products? I often evaluate it through factors like scale, material choice, and functionality to determine whether it meets the practical demands of good design.

For me, a design is considered ready when it realizes the original intent and planning behind it—when the concept has been clearly translated into form, function, and user experience. I tend to work on one project at a time rather than working on multiple ideas simultaneously. Of course, I believe no design is ever truly perfect—there’s always room for improvement. But there’s a point when the core of the idea has been executed as intended, and further adjustments may start to dilute rather than enhance it. That’s usually when I move on. As for success, I define it through public response and relevance. If a project resonates with others—whether through engagement, recognition, or simply how people use and respond to it in everyday life—then I feel it has fulfilled its purpose. That kind of social feedback, to me, is the clearest sign of a successful design.

One of the most meaningful works I’ve created is a project titled “Take a Break.” It’s a piece that combines both conceptual thinking and a self-developed wood sewing technique, and I consider it a great progress in my practice. Sewing wood veneer is an innovative technique that redefines the traditional use of veneer in furniture design by introducing textile-based methods such as piercing, folding, and stitching. Unlike conventional practices that rely on gluing flat surfaces, this approach treats veneer as a flexible, fabric-like material, allowing for sculptural forms, layered textures, and seamless transitions. It blurs the line between hard and soft materials, while offering new possibilities in structure, aesthetics in crafts making. And take a break is a two pieces shelf based on this technique.“Take a Break” draws inspiration from the brick façades commonly seen throughout Brooklyn, where I live. The title is a play on words—“break” phonetically echoes “brick,” referencing both the visual and structural origins of the piece. It captures the rhythm and texture of urban architecture, translating it into a compact, functional form. The second meaning of “Take a Break” is more literal—an invitation to pause. The design consists of two parts: when separated, one transforms into a bench for sitting and resting; when combined, it functions as a TV stand.

One designer I deeply admire is Oki Sato, the founder of Nendo. His work consistently strikes a balance between simplicity and playfulness. What amazes me most is his endless creativity—he’s someone who truly knows how to play through design.There’s always a touch of humor or surprise in his projects, yet they remain deeply thoughtful. If I had the chance to speak with any designer, it would be him—not only because of his creativity, but also because of the way he approaches design as storytelling. To me, his practice embodies what good design can be: conceptually strong, emotionally resonant, and beautifully executed.

I currently live in Brooklyn, and I’ve grown quite accustomed to the rhythm of city life—the energy, the diversity, the constant movement. At the same time, I have a deep appreciation for nature. I often find myself shifting between these two worlds, and in many ways, my lifestyle is about finding balance between the urban and the natural. Spending time in nature gives me a sense of calm and clarity that I can’t always find in the city. Many of my design ideas are directly influenced by these quiet moments—they offer both a physical reset and a source of creative insight.

At the moment, I work independently, which allows me the full creative freedom. However, I’m actively looking to build partnerships with people who share a genuine passion for design and who have a clear vision for their own professional growth. For me, the ideal collaborator is someone who values curiosity, responsibility, and long-term thinking—someone who sees design not just as a job, but as a way of contributing meaningfully to the world. I believe good collaboration comes from mutual respect, open communication, and a shared commitment to thoughtful, high-quality work. As I continue to grow my practice, I’m hoping to build a small but dedicated team with a culture rooted in purpose, experimentation, and mutual learning.

As a designer, I believe my contribution to society lies in continually exploring new ideas that shape how we live, think, and support diverse life styles. By introducing fresh perspectives and creating meaningful experiences through design, I aim to rekindle imagination and passion in everyday life.

One of the most valuable outcomes was gaining visibility within the industry, which helped introduce my work to a broader international audience. The media coverage and promotional support provided by the award also played a key role in amplifying my design voice and building credibility as an emerging designer. Being selected as Designer of the Day was a great honor. Competitions like the A’ Design Award are important because they celebrate new ideas and provide designers with a platform to be seen, heard, and meaningfully engaged in critical discourse.