In an Age Shy of Ideals, On Our Design Ideals

On a spring afternoon at CIFF Guangzhou 2023, Dai Bei TALK and VEIJ gathered with a few friends under a big tree, among miscanthus, to have an engaging spring conversation about “Re‑Design”.

As design is endlessly discussed and design brands spring up like bamboo after rain, and within a new context where “value–aesthetics” and “Guochao” are on the rise, what new shifts are happening in the thinking of Chinese design and manufacturing, interior and furniture, entrepreneurs and designers? Let’s listen to this gentle, story‑like talk.

Dai Bei: Sitting in the “VEIJ Courtyard” at CIFF today, watching light flicker on the grass, with friends gathered under the tree — it doesn’t feel like we’re at a trade fair at all.

Booths used to be packed with furniture. VEIJ’s pavilion gives half of its area to a courtyard; furniture occupies only a small part. The thinking no longer stops at furniture itself. Sitting here, you sense home, spring — a living breath in the air.

Liu Zongya: This is the fifth year Mr. Liao and I have collaborated on the pavilion. Before starting, we always ask: what can we bring to visitors? The organizer told exhibitors there would be no main top lighting during the show. Without lights, what can we provide? What state will visitors be in while touring?

In this “courtyard” we used many arches. In a resort hotel we might use straight lines for a more architectural, lasting, classic effect. But here people need strength — points that touch them and stay in memory to be shared. Under a black firmament, we drew curves that both connect and leap; quiet, yet full of vitality.

We wondered if partitions must be gypsum board. So we used metal mesh like concrete, but with lightweight paper inside — forming semi‑transparent paper walls under light. It’s an outcome of thinking about material paradoxes and the temporary nature of fairs: one can do interesting things without consuming many resources.

To me, “Re‑Design” is a response to the present. Many things already exist; products are in surplus. Whether sofa or chair, the question is how to use different furniture to awaken today’s needs.

Liao Yanwen: I like relaxed things — and hope our furniture is the same: a bit more relaxed, a bit freer. Mr. Liu and I have deep mutual trust. We started planning after the New Year with a tight schedule, but the moment I saw his design, I decided on it.

Design is the soul of a brand. Without design, it is hard to have high quality that endures. With design, small leverage can move a lot; we want the pavilion image and product innovations to be fun and meaningful. Design is diverse: appearance, function, materials, color, comfort, and more. Each company has its genes and strengths — focus on them and iterate.

Hou Zhengguang: Is “form” useful?

Chen Zhijun: I’m not a veteran designer — I run a company and do some design out of necessity. People often drift from design into art. In my view, art is “useless”; if it’s useful, it’s not art. Design must be useful, and thus involves commercialization.

Hou Zhengguang: Then why make a very beautiful piece of furniture?

Chen Zhijun: I mean usefulness in practical terms.

Hou Zhengguang: Does beauty have “use”?

Chen Zhijun: It does — it serves the spirit.

Hou Zhengguang: Art also serves the spirit.

Therefore, art is “useful” too. Is function the only thing that matters in a chair? No — all parts matter. Don’t confuse art with design; but broadly speaking, art is a part of design, and if we broaden art, design can also be seen as an art. “The use of the useless” is still use.

Mai Zi: Design solves problems — explicit and implicit. People have physical and psychological problems; art often soothes the soul. If something is beautiful, useful and durable, it naturally produces beauty that comforts you. If it looks great yet isn’t the most comfortable, you may still accept it because it comforts the soul. The “use of the useless” can be the greatest use. What ultimately carries humanity forward is more often spiritual.

During the pandemic, companies struggled; factory owners greeted each other like patients. Why go on? Because spirit leads us, making our work feel meaningful. Life is more meaningful with art, care and beauty. Comfort in a chair can be achieved with technique; art has no fixed form — it answers needs of consolation at different times and in different contexts.

Chen Zhijun: Furniture fairs used to be places to transact. Now pavilions don’t look transactional: each booth is beautifully done, softening commerce. In huge spaces there may be only a few chairs. It feels like Milan — creating comfortable, tasteful living settings and presenting design concepts.

I dislike repeatedly raising “original design”. Design is inherently original — were we previously doing “non‑original design”? The opposite of originality is not classic continuation or copying; those aren’t about design. For furniture brands, products must be designed — that’s the starting point for survival. A brand product’s emergence is originality. Copy‑and‑paste or reproducing classics out of copyright is contract manufacturing, not design.

Hou Zhengguang: The term “original design” is overused. Before the show I told Dai Bei: let’s not talk about it; let’s talk about “ideals”. “Design Spring” at its core is for ideals — gathering and expressing the ideals of most people. That’s a powerful drive.

Chen Zhijun: Everyone can voice a wish — a wish is also a kind of design.

Mai Zi: Why do many people change homes? To live better — to buy a new home, new furniture, in pursuit of an ideal life.

Design is always on the way. Ideals are never fully reached; what’s reached is called a plan. Ideals are for pursuit — that’s why many keep charging forward on the road of originality.

Liu Zongya: I’m a novice in product design — my past was mostly space. I didn’t initially think of doing products; Mr. Liao encouraged me to try. Without that chance, I might have remained timid.

Working together, we often had no shop drawings; we kept trying and learned from reactions. Those responses changed how I see myself. As Mr. Hou said, sometimes we need the power of “blossoming” — you don’t know where it goes, but accumulating possibilities drives society forward. As a cross‑disciplinary designer, I find the personality and soul of each piece.

Dai Bei: In the livestream chat: One viewer wrote, “The term ‘original’ is odd — design is by nature original.” Another said, “No one emphasizes ‘Italian original design’ or ‘American original design’; why must we say ‘Chinese original design’?”

Zeng Jianlong: We stress originality because we didn’t have it before; we took from others. Now that we’re starting to have it, we want to prove we’re different — so we emphasize it. It’s a process; we can’t deny it. In the West, “big brands feed small ones”: a few large brands drive the market and the smaller ones follow.

But today we should talk less about object originality and more about constructing a contemporary Chinese way of living. Use the language of objects to set new lifestyles and aesthetics — originality of life, not merely of objects. Objects solve use; some make them prettier or change materials. It’s okay to drop the label “original” altogether. As Mai said: when we don’t talk design, we may well be doing design.

Today we still transact, but we hide the explicit transaction behind the brand. In the past, sales had to happen quickly to scale manufacturing. Now, through brand iteration and output, we offer users more choices — push the brand to the front so people remember it before a transaction. Motives and logic are changing because society and aesthetics are changing. “Re‑Design” isn’t rejecting originality; it asks: what lifestyle do you embed in your products?

Dai Bei: Mr. Chen has been an entrepreneur I’ve known for nearly 20 years. A decade ago, when I helped many entrepreneurs denounce copying, he kept doing his own design. From an entrepreneur’s view, what’s the real logic of copying vs. not copying? From a manufacturing perspective, how do you interpret “Re‑Design”? Beyond appearance, what else in design do you focus on?

Chen Zhijun: We make modern furniture — born of industrialization — so we’re doing industrial product design, produced by machines. A company is a large organization; product design touches every level. Success requires carefully combing everything from procurement and equipment utilization to warehousing and logistics. We’ve worked with overseas designers who only complete the surface part; we still handle cost control, structural optimization, packaging and more. For example, Noah Home is board‑based, system furniture. How to simplify? We disassemble the whole piece, search for commonalities among panels, and recombine — achieving countless forms.

We don’t sell furniture — we sell panels, which must be packaged separately. With long‑distance transport and multiple load/unload cycles, small panels get dinged easily. If we pack each thickly, packaging costs explode. Our solution: make a big pallet, seal the panels inside, and use forklifts to move — avoiding handling damage at the lowest cost. That’s just one small link in an overall design.

Why insist on brand and originality? Founding Noah Home came from a heartfelt love of furniture’s physical structure and function. Many entrepreneurs describe a nerve‑touching moment that led them into an industry and to success. Compared with chasing money by any means, I prefer the former — building a brand we love, with dignity. Over the years we’ve also developed a sense for trends. Comfort in a sofa is felt instantly; trends are invisible, dynamic. When most people think something is a trend, it may already have passed.

“Noah Home” echoes “Noah’s Ark”. Our brand borrows humanity’s ancient response to disaster as a metaphor — expressing a longing for safety, order and stable dwelling. That longing links closely to “home”; furniture plays a key role. A phrase I believe in: “Order is the first law of heaven.” The first element of civilization is order. Furniture is a tool for sorting life’s order — a marker of residential civilization.

Only an empty cup can hold water; only an open heart can reflect all things. With a courtyard of white space, such a conversation becomes possible.

Dazzling exhibits aren’t necessarily pleasing; appropriate white space lets more possibilities grow. In a single chair, sense time, mountains and rivers; in a small courtyard, the breadth of heaven and earth.

A spring conversation not only moves words to touch the heart, but brings hearts closer to hearts — when design is closely connected with daily life.

Questions don’t always need answers, and answers needn’t be uniform. Let everything grow — that’s how we honor spring.

White space lets us see more.