Interviews with Kevin Yang

To me, art and design are universal languages through which meaning is conveyed beyond the boundaries of words, ethnicity, and culture. Every created piece — whether artistic or functional, all carries a message that resonates and understood on a human level.

There are two kinds of design I love, each represents part of my creative drive.

I tend to design and create with the mindset of functional art — fusing existing elements and exploring how meaning and utility can coexist. For me, each project is an opportunity to learn, observe, and experiment with something new — whether it’s a material, a technique, a texture, a message, or a way of thinking. I’m always curious about how these discoveries can be fused to express my understanding of an object.

At the same time, I make personal electronics. Not only out of love or need, but because they sit at the intersection of design and technology — fast-paced, ever-evolving, and filled with innovation. With their short life cycle, they capture the latest ideas, materials, and trends, offering a snapshot of the present and a glimpse of the near future. To me, this field feels like the front line of design, where creativity, technology, and experimentation come together to shape and teach me how I can and will "design".

My favorite design is the “Coffeepot for Masochists” from A Catalogue of Unfindable Objects by Jacques Carelman.

To be fair, the entire collection in this book is full of brilliant and thought-provoking designs, not just the coffeepot — but that particular piece stands out because it has become one of the most iconic and recognizable examples.

A Catalogue of Unfindable Objects is a design collection that documents absurd, humorous, and intentionally impractical products. Each object in the book takes the logic of design to its extreme — exaggerating form, function, or purpose — to the point where it no longer works.

This book opened up a completely new way of thinking for me. It encouraged me to stay curious, to see beauty not only in success but also in failure — in the “impossible” and the “unusable.” It made me realize that failed or absurd designs often reveal the most honest truths about how we create and how we think. Most importantly, the curiosity and humor continues to shape my own creative process today, inspiring me to explore and find meaning in the unexpected. - in a fun way.

The first thing I ever designed for a company was a set of visual identities (VIs) for an international education agency. It was a freelance project I took on during my freshman year, introduced to me by a senior alumna.

It was my very first experience working on a real commercial project. I was learning as I designed — understanding not only the creative side but also the commercial aspects, such as branding consistency, client communication, and meeting professional requirements.

That project gave me a valuable look into how design works in the real world. It taught me how design can balance creativity with practicality, and it marked the beginning of my journey into the field of design practice.

My favorite technologies are rapid-forming methods, especially the various approaches to 3D printing and subtractive forming. I find it essential to see a design physically evolve in my hands — to feel its form, texture, and functionality as it takes shape.

With the latest advancements in 3D printing, the process has become almost as fast and intuitive as sketching. It lets me experiment, iterate, and refine ideas quickly, turning thoughts into tangible objects. I see rapid forming as a new kind of creative language — a way to think and sketch through making. From the very initial idea, it bridges the gap between imagination and reality, giving me the ability to refine each steps of design not only visually but also through touch and experience.

I feel most creative when I’m traveling and questioning the surroundings.

During my time at the Royal College of Art, my tutor Alon Meron once gave us an exercise: to observe our surroundings and redesign 100 everyday objects we encountered on our way to university. That project trained me to notice small details and question design choices we often overlook in our daily journeys from point A to B.

Since then, observing and questioning the designs around me has become a personal habit. Whenever I travel, I like to slow down and really look — whether it’s a bus stop sign, a piece of street furniture, or a cultural landmark. I imagine how I might reinterpret or refine these designs in my own way. Those quiet moments of observation are when I feel most inspired, forming my own little archive memo of daily design ideas.

The two aspects I focus on most when designing are the concept and the CMFs.

To me, the concept forms the top line of a design — it’s the foundation of meaning and direction. A strong concept gives purpose to every decision that follows, shaping how a product communicates its story, function, and emotional impact. It defines why the design exists and what it wants to express.

On the other hand, the CMFs represent the bottom line — they ground the concept in physical reality. The choice of color, material, and finish determines how people will perceive and interact with the design. It influences everything from emotional response to usability and comfort.

I see the relationship between concept and CMF as a dialogue between idea and touch — one defines the vision, and the other makes it tangible. When both align, the design feels complete: it communicates clearly, functions well, and connects with people on both a visual and emotional level.

I feel a painful sense of urgency — the frustration of not being able to instantly bring my imagined design into physical reality. But at the same time, that delay helps consolidate my ideas through rounds of iteration and reflection.

I don’t think I’m experienced enough to define whether a design is truly successful or not, but I believe a good design should be readable and able to survive — both in meaning and in the real world.

A design is successful when it communicates effectively with its users and can be realized in the market. It should speak for itself — expressing its purpose, function, and emotion clearly through form and experience — while also being practical and creating enough value to exist in the market. The product itself doesn’t have to last forever, but the concept behind it should.

I think there are two major directions in which the design field is evolving.

The first is a shift from “problem solving” to fulfilling “created needs.”
This change is largely driven by the market, where wants have begun to outweigh needs. It’s a subtle but powerful transition — marketing now shapes desire, and designers are often guided to create for these emerging wants. As a result, design has become increasingly niche-focused, speaking to smaller audiences with specific values and identities rather than aiming for universal solutions.

The second evolving field is the impact of AI.
AI is redefining how design happens. I see it as a pyramid: those designing AI, those designing with AI, and those experiencing AI design. Each layer informs and influences the others, creating a continuous feedback loop.

AI are really impacting the way how designers accelerate iteration, revealing new aesthetics, and challenging our assumptions. I believe it’s important for designers to adapt and collaborate with AI as a partner in exploration, using it to extend our ability to imagine, test, and create. Building our own databases and design weights perhaps will be key to unlocking the unknown possibilities AI can bring to the design process in the near future.

As I mentioned earlier, I find that questioning the design choices around me is the quickest and most natural way to find inspiration. I constantly ask myself: Why did a designer I’ve never met choose to create this object in this particular way? What story or reasoning lies behind it, and how is that reflected through its form and function?

For me, this process feels like a wordless conversation between designers — an exchange of ideas across time and context. Each object carries a message, and I’m curious about how I might respond to it through my own design language. This ongoing dialogue keeps my creativity active and helps me see design not just as creation, but as communication.

Learning while deconstructing, and having fun while reconstructing. =)

To me, design doesn’t grow out of thin air — it’s built from a combination of existing inspirations, experiences, and observations. Deconstruction is always my first step in the design process. By breaking things down, I learn how they work, discover what makes them meaningful, and identify the qualities worth inheriting and evolving further.

I like my work to include recognizable elements from existing products, so users can easily connect with the functionality — and sometimes, the humor within the design. The process of deconstructing and learning from what already exists, then reconstructing it in creative and fun manor, has become a defining part of my creative style.

As an ethnic Chinese Austrian who grew up in the UK, living abroad and traveling have always been natural parts of my life and identity. This multicultural experience constantly exposes me to new perspectives, cultures, and design languages.

The biggest advantage of this background is the ability to observe and compare market trends across different regions — to see both the shared values and the unique differences between them. It helps me understand regional strengths, such as manufacturing approaches, regional techniques, and design aesthetics, while also building meaningful international connections.

If there’s a challenge, it’s that being shaped by multiple cultures sometimes makes it difficult to define a single design identity — but I also see that as an opportunity to create my own hybrid language, combining influences from East and West.

Definitely get in touch with design communities and find your field of design.

I think its beneficial and economical for young designers to participate in design competitions. Beyond exposure and recognition, the real value lies in the process: pushing yourself to produce highly refined, finished works; and connecting with the wider design community.

One of the most crucial aspects of these competitions is the chance to exchange ideas and experiences with designers from different categories and levels. Through these conversations and by learning from their work experience, you begin to refine your own focus and direction, consolidate your workflow, and better understand where your true interests and strengths lie.

Questioning the design choice around you, and be more creative every day.

Executive force - Make rather than think.

I am currently working as a part-time design practitioner, developing projects by myself.

Fell free to contact me via my email (kev@kevydesign.com) or DM me on instagram (Kevy.Design).

The idea to make Commi Board mobile-first came from seeing how central smartphones have become in everyday life, especially for students and hobbyists. Traditional prototyping tools can be bulky, expensive, and difficult to set up. In contrast, smartphones are portable, easy to use, and already in people’s hands. By using them as the core of the prototyping experience, we made it possible to turn theory into practice anytime, anywhere.Smartphones also have much more processing power than basic microcontrollers, which allows Commi Board to run real-time simulations, give instant feedback, and support AI-assisted programming. This means users can design, test, and learn more efficiently—without needing extra equipment. It makes electronics more approachable, more interactive, and more fun for learners of all levels.

Simplifying PCB design while ensuring reliable GPIO communication was one of the toughest parts of building Commi Board. As a solo designer, I had to approach it step by step—focusing on modular design, minimizing complexity, and using only essential, cost-effective components. I relied heavily on open-source resources, online communities, and a lot of trial and error to shape the first theoretical prototype.Instead of building around a high-power microcontroller, I chose to use the smartphone’s superior processing power. Through USB-C and Bluetooth protocols, I enabled both line direct and bluetooth GPIO communication between the board and the device. This choice kept the hardware simple but functional. The early prototypes revealed issues like signal noise and power efficiency, but each round of testing helped me refine the design—making it more accessible without sacrificing performance.

The staged learning roadmap in Commi Board was designed to support users at every skill level, from absolute beginners to advanced programmers. It starts with puzzle-like visual programming, ideal for younger learners or those new to electronics—helping them understand logic through simple, drag-and-drop elements. Next is a Scratch-like interface, which introduces flow, events, and conditionals in a more flexible visual way.As users gain confidence, they can transition to AI-assisted natural language programming, where they describe their goals in plain language and let the system generate or guide code. Finally, advanced users can access a full IDE, offering complete control over coding and debugging. These four methods are interconnected, allowing users to move smoothly between them as they grow—making learning progressive, engaging, and deeply customizable.

The community-driven app component of Commi Board adds a powerful social layer to learning and prototyping. Users can share their projects, explore others’ work, and access a growing library of open-source circuits and code. This creates a collaborative environment where beginners can learn from real examples and advanced users can contribute, inspire, and mentor others.It also encourages experimentation—seeing how others solve problems helps users approach their own projects with more creativity and confidence. By blending social interaction with technical learning, the app makes prototyping feel less isolated and more like a shared, evolving experience.

Portability was a key design goal, especially since Commi Board is intended to attach directly to the back of a smartphone. The dimensions were optimized for devices ranging from 5.7 to 6.9 inches, striking a careful balance between usability and comfort. The board fits naturally within the average palm and does not interfere with typical phone operation.While all other components were designed to be as thin as possible, the overall thickness remains slightly above that of standard accessories due to mechanical limitations. Specifically, the height was determined by the depth required for standard DuPont jumper wire connections and the internal copper V-clamp structure. This dimension ensures stable electrical contact, reliable magnetic attachment, and physical durability—making it the most practical compromise between functionality, compactness, and structural integrity.

Looking ahead, one of my key goals is to complete and refine the API-to-software integration to allow seamless, real-time communication between the hardware and mobile app. This would enable live debugging, automated code suggestion, and interactive sensor data visualization directly within the app.I also envision building a low-code interface that allows users to switch between visual and text-based programming dynamically, supported by cloud-sync features and AI-powered code explanations. Eventually, Commi Board could support third-party module extensions and open APIs, allowing the community to expand its capabilities—turning it into a truly scalable and collaborative educational ecosystem.

The cloud-based project loading system allows users to access, share, and resume projects from any device, removing the need for complex local setups. For students, it means they can continue learning and prototyping across different environments—home, school, or on the go.For educators, it enables easy distribution of example projects, assignments, or collaborative challenges. This fosters a more interactive, inclusive learning environment and encourages knowledge-sharing, making electronics education more connected and accessible for all.

Usability testing revealed that many beginners struggled with traditional breadboards and complex wiring. This insight led me to adopt a modular, magnetic layout that simplifies component placement. Test participants also found value in visual programming, prompting the inclusion of both puzzle-style and Scratch-like interfaces.Another key insight was the preference for mobile-based interaction over desktop tools, which reinforced the decision to build around smartphones. These findings directly shaped Commi Board’s accessible form, intuitive app, and staged learning roadmap.

My advice is to always start with the user—not the technology. Talk to real learners, observe their struggles, and design from their perspective. Simplicity doesn’t mean reducing capability; it means removing friction. Expand on clarity, adaptability, and how the learning process feels, not just how it functions.Also, design what’s closest to you. Commi Board was born from my daily frustration using breadboards. The idea started with a simple question: “Why not just add a MCU to the breadboard itself?” Sometimes the best innovations come from rethinking the tools you already use.

I’ve always been a huge fan of old handheld consoles—their portability and ability to transform any moment into a fully immersive experience left a strong impression on me. The sense of being “in the zone,” wherever you were, became central to XYLO’s design. The semi-transparent shell and Game Boy-inspired aesthetic pay homage to that era, creating an immediate emotional and visual link to classic gaming.The fusion of MIDI functionality with the visual language of handheld consoles was also inspired by the educational rhythm games I grew up with—particularly titles like Rhythm Heaven. These games simplified complex timing and musical ideas into tactile, joyful experiences. By echoing that form factor and nostalgia, XYLO not only spoke out design language visually, but also lowers the intimidation barrier, making music-making feel playful, accessible, and deeply personal.

The swappable cartridges concept was envisioned through a mix of nostalgic practices—drawing from the “burning” culture of the disk era and the “sharing and renting” habits common in the early retro gaming era.With XYLO, my aim for the cartridges is to let users share not just finished tracks, but the actual components that build music: a beat, a rhythm pattern, a timbre, a melody line. Each cartridge holds a unique piece of the musical puzzle. Some carts also contain user-customized instruments, “burned” and fine-tuned like collectible assets, echoing the spirit and physicality of music socializing.

The harmonic and tempo synchronization are designed to create a forgiving and musically intelligent environment where users can focus on creativity rather than technical precision.Harmonic synchronization ensures that notes and chords remain musically compatible, reducing the chances of dissonance and allowing users to explore melodies freely without needing deep theoretical knowledge. Tempo synchronization aligns rhythmic elements across devices and tracks, making it easier to build cohesive beats and collaborate in real time. These provide the basic foundation for zero-experience beginners, giving them the space and building blocks of music composition.By having these musical safeguards into the system, XYLO helps novices to produce satisfying, harmonious results from the very beginning, lowering the learning curve and making the creative process more enjoyable and inclusive.

Facing challenges beyond my technical expertise encouraged me to take a broader, more strategic view—focusing on the core design objectives first, before refining the details.I intentionally concentrated on areas where I had stronger control, particularly in CMF, visual, and interaction design, while leaving ample hardware redundancy. This ensured that iterative software development wouldn’t be hindered by premature hardware integration. That’s why, even after building an initial integrated version, I continued working with modular development boards—acknowledging the limitations of the early prototype and prioritizing flexibility in later stages.This approach gave me the time, capability, and hardware compatibility necessary to ensure a stable and functional software environment.

The three-size format of Project XYLO—Sample, Pocket, and MIDI—was developed to address varying levels of musical engagement and user expertise. The Sample version was inspired by the design language of classic MP3 players, aiming to offer a seamless, almost invisible tech experience that focuses on spontaneous sound exploration. The Pocket version draws directly from handheld gaming devices, balancing portability with playful interaction, ideal for casual beat-making on the go. The MIDI model, while still compact, is intended to offer greater functionality and a more professional language—bridging the gap between portability and advanced creative control.Together, the three devices represent a gradual progression in complexity and creative depth—from intuitive, single-sound manipulation to full-featured music production. This modular approach not only accommodates different user needs and scenarios but also reflects a natural learning curve, encouraging users to grow their musical skills within the same design ecosystem.

In my research, categorizing sound into SFX, beats, chords, and melodies helped define how users should physically interact with each musical element.For XYLO’s three devices, I aligned distinct interaction methods—buttons, sliders, knobs, pressure pads, recording input, cartridge insertion, and more—to match the character of each sound type. For example, pitch-sensitive elements like melodies benefit from continuous, pressure-based input, while beats respond better to velocity-sensitive button pads.This systematic pairing of input and sound type was crucial in making each musical component feel intuitive and expressive. In XYLO, controls are also designed to work in combination—for instance, adjusting timbre with a slider while modulating wah effects with a pressure pad. Each element of music can be shaped through physical touch in the ideal natural way, encouraging real-time creativity and deeper engagement.

As mentioned earlier, the shift from ESP32 to Raspberry Pi Zero was driven by the need for greater development flexibility and to address hardware limitations encountered during prototyping. I had developed a custom ESP32 integrated board, but its performance proved less stable than expected and required significant time for optimization—time that could be better spent refining the user experience.Switching to Raspberry Pi Zero allowed for smoother graphical output, a more accessible game development environment (GODOT), and more headroom for future software updates. This pivot ultimately enhanced the system's responsiveness, scalability, and long-term adaptability—improving both the functionality and overall experience of using XYLO.

Personally, I don’t see Project XYLO as departing from traditional MIDI, but rather as simplifying and refining its core purpose—making music creation more intuitive and approachable. While some existing products aim to lower the entry barrier, many still lean toward professional users or enthusiasts. With XYLO, I wanted to explore how game-like interaction and social sharing could help absolute beginners experience the joy of making music.In terms of influence, I believe the future of music tools may lie in combining MIDI functionality with interaction models that feel familiar to a wider audience. For XYLO, that meant drawing from the language of retro game consoles—something many people have a shared memory of. There is already a growing trend where portable, accessible tools take on forms and behaviors that feel playful and culturally resonant, helping more people take their first step into music creation without intimidation.

Art and design are universal languages spoken by humanity.I see every design as a sentence—and every component, interaction, or visual cue as a word. To speak clearly and meaningfully through design, we must understand the existing vocabulary: familiar objects, cultural references, and intuitive behaviors. With Project XYLO, I didn’t invent a new language—I borrowed well-known "words" from retro gaming and music culture and rearranged them to form something new and accessible.My advice to aspiring designers is this: don’t be afraid to reference what already exists. Innovation isn’t about abandoning the past—it’s about using it thoughtfully, like grammar, to construct new experiences. Build on what people already understand, and then add your own voice to make it meaningful. A good design doesn’t just innovate—it functions, communicates, invites, connects, and only then, truly innovates.