Interviews with Matthias Ambros

Estúdio Mezas was born almost by chance, from a personal moment that became a turning point. While designing furniture for my own home, as I prepared to welcome my second child, I realized the potential to create pieces that went beyond function — objects that carry stories, that embrace daily life, that connect with people on an emotional level.

Since then, Mezas has grown into an independent design studio focused on furniture and objects that blend material research, storytelling, and a critical view of contemporary living. Our pieces are not only functional; they embody concepts, scientific references, and narratives that challenge traditional boundaries between art, design, and architecture.

We believe furniture can be a bridge between people, spaces, and time. That’s why our work explores themes like transformation, shelter, resilience, and movement — always with a strong focus on materials, tactile experiences, and the dialogue between industry and craftsmanship.

For me, design is something broad, complex, and deeply connected to people's needs and realities. It starts with listening — to users, to clients, to contexts — and evolves into a process where creativity walks side by side with economic and production viability.

I believe design has to be sustainable not only in terms of raw materials or environmental impact, but also in its commercial success and relevance. A product needs to make sense in the market, to generate value, to justify the time, the prototypes, and the energy invested in its creation.

Design, in my view, accompanies the entire life of a product — from its birth in research and development, through cost design, to monitoring its performance and utility over time. It’s a continuous learning process, where each product teaches us something new that we can bring into the next one.

For me, design is not static. It's alive. It evolves, adapts, and reflects the challenges and responsibilities we face as creators.

I’m especially passionate about designing furniture.
For me, furniture is more than an object — it’s a presence in space, a silent companion in people’s daily lives. I like designing pieces that are functional, but that also carry meaning, provoke emotions, and create connections.

I’m particularly interested in exploring materials, construction techniques, and how objects age and interact with the human body. I enjoy projects where I can challenge traditional processes and propose new ways of thinking about furniture, not only as utility but as narrative and experience.

One of the pieces that represents me the most is the Andorinha Chair.
It’s a project that carries a lot of layers — technical, symbolic, emotional. The chair was born from a personal moment of reflection about journeys, returns, and the need for shelter. Inspired by the swallow, a bird that always finds its way back, the chair became a metaphor for resilience, adaptability, and the human search for belonging.

Technically, it challenged me to develop new solutions, like the floating backrest with no visible fixations, using an innovative plywood molding technique. But beyond the form and the technique, what makes it special to me is the story it tells — about movement, about embracing, about the invisible connections between people and objects.

It’s a piece that has been with me through many stages, evolving, adapting, just like its concept. It reminds me why I design.

The first collection I designed for a company was a series of tables, benches, and coffee tables with very simple lines. What made them special was the way I explored concrete as a key material — not just structurally, but as an expressive element in tabletops and seats.

At the time, it was an unusual choice, and it opened up a new path for me, showing how materials considered heavy or cold could gain new meanings when combined with more delicate forms and thoughtful proportions. That experience taught me the power of materials in storytelling, and how they can challenge perceptions.

It was also the moment I realized that design, for me, would always be about this balance between simplicity, materiality, and narrative.

I have a strong connection with concrete and metals, especially when combined with softer materials like fabrics and wood. I’m fascinated by the contrast between these elements — the coldness of concrete, the warmth of textiles, the precision of metal structures — and how they can create unexpected dialogues.

But beyond specific materials, what excites me most is the possibility of experimentation. I’m always looking for ways to push materials and techniques beyond their conventional uses, combining craftsmanship with industry, analog with digital.

Lately, I’ve been exploring AI tools like ChatGPT, MidJourney, and Runway as part of my creative process. They’ve opened new perspectives, helping me expand ideas, visualize concepts, and provoke reflections I might not reach using traditional methods. For me, technology is not a replacement, but an extension of creative thinking.

I feel most creative when I see a clear need and specific constraints.
For me, creativity doesn’t come from a blank page, but from the challenge of solving problems, of responding to limitations, of finding new ways within real conditions.
It’s in this tension between what’s needed, what’s possible, and what’s desirable that I find the best starting point for creation. The act of designing, for me, is always about proposing solutions — and that’s where my mind feels the most alive and stimulated.

During the design process, I focus on finding a balance between aesthetics, ergonomics, and technique. For me, a design must be more than beautiful — it has to be reproducible, realistic, and functional, truly responding to the needs of its user.

I always try to understand who the product is for, what context it will inhabit, and how materials and finishes can enhance not only its performance but also its emotional value.
From the very beginning, I see design as a holistic process, where every decision — from proportions to production methods — needs to make sense and contribute to a product that is feasible, sustainable, and meaningful.

When I’m designing, I feel a deep sense of pleasure, challenge, and stimulation.
It’s a process that activates me — mentally and emotionally. I enjoy being provoked by the constraints, by the search for solutions, by the possibility of transforming an idea into something tangible.

Designing makes me feel alive, curious, and constantly learning. Every project is a journey into the unknown, and that’s what excites me the most.

When I see my designs come to life, I feel a deep sense of fulfillment, pride, and happiness.
It’s like seeing an idea that once existed only in my mind taking shape, becoming real, touching people’s lives.

There’s also a quiet satisfaction in knowing that all the effort, the doubts, the challenges along the process were worth it. It’s one of the most rewarding moments as a designer.

For me, a successful design is one that is profitable, easy to produce according to its purpose, and clear in its attitude.

It should be beautiful, simple, and objective, with no excess, no noise — just what is necessary to fulfill its role in the best way possible.

A good design respects both the user and the production process. It finds balance between form, function, and feasibility.

For me, the purpose is always the first aspect I consider when judging a design.
A design only makes sense if it clearly responds to a need, if it fulfills its role in a coherent, honest, and meaningful way.

After that, I look at how it balances form, function, production, and user experience. But everything starts with why it exists. Without a clear purpose, even the most beautiful object loses its relevance.

From my point of view, a designer's responsibility goes beyond creating beautiful or sustainable products.
We must design processes and products that respect not only material consumption, but also durability, commercial purpose, and long-term success.

A good design should generate positive impact across its entire production chain — creating jobs, supporting local industries, and ensuring the product remains relevant and valuable over time.

For me, sustainability is not only about the material itself, but about creating products that make sense, that last, and that contribute to a healthier economic and social ecosystem.

I believe the design field is evolving towards a more critical and responsible practice. We’re moving beyond just aesthetics or trends, and focusing more on processes, sustainability, circular economy, and production feasibility.

Technology, especially tools like AI, is opening new creative possibilities and speeding up processes, but I believe the real challenge for the future of design is not just being faster or more digital — it’s being more relevant, responsible, and connected to real needs.

Design will need to balance innovation with durability, efficiency with meaning, and always keep in mind its broader impact on society, the environment, and the economy.

In the future, designers will be not only creators of objects, but mediators between technology, industry, people, and the planet.

My last exhibition was at the Fuorisalone in Milan, 2025, where I presented the Andorinha Chair as part of an independent Brazilian design showcase. The piece was also shown at Design Week São Paulo, Brasília, and Porto Alegre, and it is scheduled to be exhibited in New York later this year, as part of the (AI)ndustrial exhibition.

For my next exhibition, I’m currently developing new works that continue exploring the intersection between science, design, and materials. I aim to present them again at Milan Design Week next year, and I’m also looking to explore more experimental and immersive exhibition formats beyond the traditional design fairs.

My design inspiration comes mainly from science and my personal history.
For me, design is something emotional — it’s shaped by our life experiences, by the people around us, by the stories we carry.

In my case, much of my inspiration comes from my parents, my wife, and my two children. They are a constant reminder of why I create, and they push me to design more consciously, more thoughtfully, and always with purpose.

I also feed my creativity by staying connected to scientific thinking, always questioning, observing, and exploring new ways to combine materials, forms, and narratives. Everyday life, when looked at with attention, is full of subtle inspirations.

I would describe my design style as having a strong personality and a recognizable identity.
I’m always looking for a balance between functionality and expressiveness, avoiding overly conservative or predictable solutions. I like when a piece surprises, invites reflection, but at the same time serves its purpose with clarity and efficiency.

What drives me to explore this approach is the belief that design should go beyond solving problems — it should create connections, tell stories, and provoke emotions. I’m interested in forms that have character, that stand out, but that are still honest, functional, and feasible to produce.

For me, design is about finding the tension between the bold and the essential, between the conceptual and the practical.

I live in Brazil, a country full of contrasts, complexities, and rich cultural heritage.
Without a doubt, the place where I live influences the way I design. Brazilian culture, with its informality, resilience, and creativity in the face of challenges, deeply shapes my approach to materials, forms, and narratives.

I believe there’s a certain lightness, improvisation, and warmth in the way we create here, and that reflects in my work — in the search for simplicity, in the attention to human needs, and in the desire to create objects that feel close and meaningful.

The pros of designing in Brazil are the creative freedom, the diversity of cultural references, and the richness of informal knowledge and craftsmanship.
The cons, in my view, are mainly related to the weak and often non-meritocratic market, which makes it difficult for more experimental or authorial design to be recognized, valued, and commercially viable.

But I see these obstacles as part of the challenge that pushes me to keep exploring new ways to create and to connect with different audiences.

I have my own factory, which allows me to work independently and have full control over the entire process — from design to production.

This gives me the freedom to experiment with materials, develop new techniques, and work at my own pace, without depending entirely on external approvals or structures.

However, when I collaborate with companies, I always seek to create an open dialogue, aligning my design vision with their needs, production capabilities, and market strategies. I believe in partnerships that respect both sides — where creativity and business walk together with honesty and realism.

My suggestion to companies is to see the designer as a partner, not just a service provider. A good collaboration happens when there is openness to dialogue, when the designer is involved from the beginning of the process, understanding the company's needs, challenges, and goals.

When selecting a designer, I believe companies should look beyond portfolios. They should look at the designer’s ability to understand the market, to propose feasible solutions, to balance creativity with production and business realities.

A good designer is not the one who creates the most striking shape, but the one who brings relevance, honesty, and coherence to the product, and who knows how to listen, adapt, and challenge when necessary.

I’ve developed my own circular design process, where the end of a product’s life cycle is directly connected to the beginning of new research and development.

For me, the market itself is the biggest laboratory — it provides real feedback, technical knowledge, and reveals new needs that often only emerge after the product is in use.

This continuous flow allows me to observe how products behave, age, and are used over time, and from there, I bring these learnings back into the design process, closing the loop between creation, production, and the real world.

In my work, the end is never really the end — it’s always the starting point for something new.

Kaweco Mechanical Pencil — I love its precision and the tactile experience it brings to sketching. It’s simple, efficient, and timeless.

Lamy Safari Mechanical Pencil — It has been with me for years, and I like how it combines functionality with an iconic, almost playful design.

Cauny Siza Watch — Designed by Álvaro Siza, it's more than a watch; it’s an object of reflection, pure in form and meaning.

Bouman Chair — One of my own creations, but a piece that I use daily and that reminds me of the balance between material honesty, comfort, and formal purity.

My days are very dynamic and never exactly the same.
Since I manage my own factory, a big part of my time is dedicated to operations management — balancing production, logistics, and team coordination.

At the same time, I always try to create space for designing, prototyping, and developing new ideas, while also taking care of the business side — finances, marketing, and sales management.

It’s a constant exercise in time management and balance, making sure I can switch between the creative and the operational without losing focus.

And, of course, I always make time for physical activity, which helps me clear my mind and stay connected to my body — an essential part of my creative process.

My advice to young designers is: be patient and stay curious.
Design is not just about creating beautiful things — it’s about listening, observing, and understanding the world around you. Don’t rush to find your style too soon. Let it come naturally, through experimentation and real-world experience.

Also, always keep in mind that design needs to be feasible, relevant, and connected to people’s lives. Balance creativity with practicality, and never lose sight of the production and commercial realities behind a project.

And most importantly, be humble. The market is a great teacher, and the best designs often come from listening carefully to users, to producers, and to the constraints of the process itself.

From my perspective, one of the positives of being a designer is the ability to transform ideas into tangible objects that can improve people's lives, create connections, and leave a mark on the world. It’s a profession that keeps you constantly learning, questioning, and evolving.

On the other hand, one of the negatives is dealing with the frustration that comes from the gap between creation and reality. Not every idea will be feasible, accepted, or valued. You have to navigate between creativity, commercial pressures, and production constraints — and that can be challenging.

But I see these tensions as part of the process. They keep us grounded and push us to find better, more honest, and relevant solutions.

My golden rule in design is:
Always respect the purpose and the people behind the product.

For me, design only makes sense when it’s functional, honest, feasible, and meaningful. It has to serve a clear need, respect the user, and be realistic in terms of production and commercial viability.

Form, technique, and aesthetics are important, but they should always be in service of the product’s purpose and the value it brings to people’s lives.

I believe the most important skills for a designer are adaptability, resilience, and a broad knowledge base.

Design is not a linear process — it requires the ability to navigate uncertainty, to adapt to different contexts, and to deal with constant challenges. Resilience is key, because not every idea will work, and the ability to learn from failures is essential.

At the same time, having a wide and diverse knowledge — from materials and techniques to art, culture, and business — allows a designer to connect different areas and create more meaningful, relevant, and innovative solutions.

In the end, it’s about being flexible, curious, and always open to learning.

My toolbox is a mix of traditional and digital tools. I always start with hand drawing — it’s where ideas flow more freely and intuitively.

From there, I use SketchUp and SolidWorks for 3D modeling and technical development, and Photoshop for visualizations and presentations.

Lately, I’ve been integrating AI tools like ChatGPT, MidJourney, and Runway into my creative process, using them as provocations and sources of inspiration to expand possibilities.

I also rely a lot on surveys, user observations, and market research — the market is, for me, the most important laboratory. And of course, I’m always surrounded by books, magazines, and design references, which help me stay connected to different perspectives.

To be honest, it’s chaotic, and it’s not easy.
Since I manage multiple roles — from running the factory to designing, overseeing finances, marketing, and sales — time management is one of my biggest challenges.

I try to prioritize what’s most urgent and critical, but I’ve also learned to embrace the chaos as part of my process. Sometimes creativity happens in the middle of that mess, in the gaps between one task and another.

It’s a constant effort to create space for design while managing the demands of the business. I don’t believe in perfect balance — I believe in adjusting and adapting every day.

In the way I see design, the process never really ends.
Every product keeps evolving, teaching us, and opening doors for improvements even after it’s in the market.

But if I consider the commercial side of design, from the first sketches to a matured, prototyped, and tested product ready for the market, it usually takes around 6 months to 1 year.

This time is essential to make sure the product is not only aesthetically strong, but also technically feasible, commercially viable, and ready to perform well in real-life conditions.

The question I hear the most is:
"Where did the inspiration for this piece come from?"

People are always curious about the story behind the object, the idea, the concept. And I like that, because for me, design is about storytelling as much as it is about function.

But sometimes I also get asked the practical side of things — "Is it comfortable? How is it produced? What materials do you use?" — which reminds me that design is always walking between imagination and reality.

My most important job experience has been the combination of managing my own factory, running a brand, and balancing that with family life.

Each of these roles challenges me in different ways, and together they’ve taught me about resilience, adaptability, leadership, and the importance of staying grounded while dreaming big.

For me, these experiences are interconnected. Managing a factory taught me about processes and discipline; running a brand showed me the value of vision and storytelling; and managing a family keeps me connected to what really matters — people, care, and purpose.

My clients are mostly from a high-end, niche market — people who are passionate about architecture, design, and craftsmanship. They are demanding, well-informed, and usually work closely with architects and interior designers to curate their spaces.

They tend to be young professionals between 30 and 45 years old, with a minimalist aesthetic and a strong appreciation for timeless, durable products that will accompany them throughout different phases of their lives.

What they value most is not only the object itself, but the story, the design process, and the added value behind each piece.

I enjoy working on clean, minimalist, and honest designs the most.

I like objects that have a clear purpose, balanced proportions, and no excess — where every detail is intentional and contributes to the whole. For me, this kind of design is powerful because it doesn’t try to impress at first glance, but rather reveals its qualities over time, through use, touch, and presence.

It’s about creating quiet, essential pieces that feel timeless and connected to people’s lives in an authentic way.

My future plans are to expand the brand, strengthen its identity, and reach a broader, global audience.

I want Mezas to be recognized not just as a design studio, but as a brand of excellence and personality, where each piece reflects our values, our processes, and our way of seeing the world.

More than growth itself, my goal is to make the brand inspiring — to create objects and narratives that connect with people on a deeper level and that stand the test of time.

I develop my designs myself, but I always seek different perspectives throughout the process.

I believe that even when the creation is personal, having open conversations and feedback from others — especially from my wife, who is also my partner — is essential.

These exchanges help me refine ideas, see things from new angles, and make the process richer and more grounded. I like to say that I create alone, but I never design in isolation.

Yes, I have several designs currently in development, but I prefer to keep them under wraps for now.

I like to let the ideas mature in silence before revealing them. There’s something special about keeping a bit of mystery and suspense — it keeps the process alive and allows the pieces to surprise when the right moment comes.

People can contact me through my website, email, or Instagram:

mezas.co
matthias@mezas.co
@mezasmob

I’m always open to conversations, collaborations, and exchanges — whether about projects, design, or simply sharing ideas.

The name Andorinha (Portuguese for swallow) was not just a poetic inspiration; it became a conceptual and emotional compass guiding every design and engineering decision.Observing the flight of swallows – agile, light, yet incredibly efficient – sparked the desire to create a chair that embodied this sense of aerodynamic lightness, as if it were ready to take off. This shaped two main aspects:Fluid and delicate aestheticsThe chair’s lines were designed to echo the smooth motion of a swallow’s wings and tail, with continuous curves and no heavy volumes. Every transition is intentional, conveying a visual lightness that makes the chair appear to float in space.Engineering grounded in structural efficiencyJust as swallows have hollow bones to reduce weight without losing strength, the chair’s engineering applied similar principles:The use of molded plywood with multidirectional curves provides structural rigidity while allowing for thin, elegant surfaces.The integration of hidden fixings and minimal contact points enables the backrest to float securely without visible heavy supports.The metal frame was designed as a lightweight skeleton, carrying loads efficiently while preserving the aesthetic of weightlessness.Beyond aesthetics and engineering, the swallow also symbolizes hope. The chair was designed during a historically difficult time for Rio Grande do Sul, when a devastating flood impacted over 80% of the state. In Portuguese maritime tradition, swallows were tattooed on sailors as symbols of hope and the certainty of returning home. This meaning became essential to the project, carrying a message of resilience and renewal, just as the state was seeking to rebuild and rise again.In essence, the swallow’s influence went beyond its name and form; it became a project methodology and a symbol of hope, where every decision was filtered through the question: “Does this align with the lightness, efficiency, beauty, and resilience of a swallow in flight?” This approach made it possible to create a chair that is visually and physically lightweight, yet deeply rooted in meaning and strong enough for everyday use in both residential and contract settings.

One of the main unexpected challenges we faced was achieving structural integrity without compromising the thin, elegant curvature that defines the Andorinha Chair. Initially, we experimented with cold molding techniques, embedding the metal insert directly into the plywood layers. However, this approach resulted in a backrest that lacked the necessary strength for extended use – it cracked under load due to insufficient bonding and internal tension distribution.To resolve this, we transitioned to a heated two-stage molding process. First, we molded the front part of the plywood, then embedded the structural metal insert between this and the posterior plywood layer before the final pressing stage. This method required precise alignment and temperature control to ensure the plywood adhered properly without gaps or deformation.Overcoming this obstacle fundamentally influenced the final design by deepening the seat-back curvature, as we realized that a more pronounced curve not only enhanced ergonomics but also redistributed forces more evenly along the embedded structure. This process ultimately reinforced the design concept of the Andorinha as a piece that combines lightness with hidden structural strength, mirroring the swallow’s ability to appear delicate while being remarkably resilient.

The 2024 floods in Rio Grande do Sul had a profound impact on my design thinking. During that time, the swallow (andorinha) became a personal and collective symbol of hope and resilience. In the midst of devastation, seeing swallows return as the waters receded reminded us that life continues – they adapt, rebuild, and carry their nests to safer grounds.This experience inspired the core narrative of the Andorinha Chair. I wanted the piece to embody not just visual lightness, but also the idea of adaptability underpinned by hidden strength. Technologically, this led us to develop the complex two-stage molding process that embeds a structural metal insert within the plywood. Culturally, it grounded the design in a story that resonates deeply with our context: finding ways to endure and evolve without losing grace.In that sense, the chair became more than a functional object. It is a manifestation of Brazilian resilience and ingenuity, merging artisanal sensitivity with structural innovation to create something that feels both delicate and unbreakable – much like the swallow flying above turbulent waters.

The survey was instrumental in aligning the Andorinha Chair with real user expectations and desires. One of the strongest insights was that users sought a feeling of subtle embrace without visual heaviness. They wanted to feel supported, yet free. This led us to refine the backrest curvature to gently conform to the lumbar region, providing ergonomic support that feels almost invisible, like the wings of a swallow embracing without restricting.Visually, respondents were drawn to slimmer profiles with mid-century influences, describing thin structures as sophisticated and timeless. This validated our direction of keeping the frame slender, accentuating the feeling of the seat floating in space, while ensuring it retained structural solidity through hidden reinforcements within the plywood.Another key takeaway was their association of wood with warmth and authenticity, but paired with clean, minimal metal details to avoid a purely rustic feel. This guided our material and finish selection, merging natural textures with precise industrial elements to create a piece that feels both welcoming and contemporary.In essence, the survey grounded our design in its human context. It transformed abstract ergonomic principles into a felt, embodied comfort, and aesthetic intentions into a visual language of lightness, resilience, and understated elegance – all core to the Andorinha’s concept as a symbol of hope and adaptability.

The development of the Andorinha Chair integrated both AI-driven form exploration and traditional hand-drawn sketches to achieve its distinctive floating aesthetic.Using traditional sketching allowed me to intuitively capture the essence of the swallow – its lightness, movement, and sense of suspension in the air – directly from my hand and mind onto paper, preserving the emotional and poetic qualities of the concept. This analog approach grounded the design in a strong conceptual narrative, creating a direct connection between the inspiration and the physical form.At the same time, employing AI tools for form exploration expanded the possibilities beyond my initial sketches. By inputting sketches and conceptual prompts into AI models, I could generate multiple interpretations, material combinations, and structural solutions rapidly. This digital process acted as a powerful brainstorming partner, suggesting novel curves, transitions, and structural flows that might not have emerged through sketching alone.The combination of these two approaches – the subjective intuition of the hand sketch with the expansive generative power of AI – resulted in a design that appears to float effortlessly. The analog process preserved the narrative integrity, while the digital process refined the ergonomics, proportions, and innovative structural possibilities, ensuring that the final chair not only conveyed a floating aesthetic but was also technically and visually resolved.

The CNC-bent steel and laser-welded joints are fundamental to achieving the balance of lightness and resilience in the Andorinha Chair.CNC-bent steel allows for precise, repeatable curves that give the structure its visual lightness. Each bend is calculated to minimize material usage while maintaining structural integrity, creating that delicate, floating aesthetic without compromising strength. The seamless curves also echo the organic inspiration of the swallow’s silhouette, reinforcing the conceptual lightness at a structural level.Laser-welded joints, on the other hand, ensure minimal and highly controlled heat input, resulting in cleaner welds with less distortion of the steel. This precision enhances durability and prevents weak points that traditional welding could introduce. Visually, it supports the design intent by keeping connections discreet and refined, almost invisible, so the piece appears seamless and airy.Together, these technical elements embody my vision of creating furniture that is:Elegant yet robust – appearing delicate while withstanding daily use.Technologically advanced – leveraging cutting-edge manufacturing to express a poetic form.Conceptually integrated – where engineering precision and design narrative converge to create an object that transcends mere function.If you would like, I can formulate a version of this answer tailored for your upcoming design interviews or brand storytelling materials.

The Andorinha Chair’s construction method and material choices were guided by a commitment to environmental responsibility without compromising production efficiency or design quality.Firstly, the innovative plywood molding technique reduces material waste by optimizing cuts and minimizing offcuts during production. By developing a two-stage molding process for the backrest, we achieved complex ergonomic forms using thin plywood layers, reducing overall wood consumption compared to traditional thick backrest structures.Secondly, the use of CNC-bent steel ensures highly precise material usage. Each steel rod is cut and bent with minimal wastage, and the precision reduces the need for reworks, saving energy and resources in production.Material selection also reflects this commitment:The plywood is sourced from responsibly managed forests, certified to ensure that its extraction does not contribute to deforestation.Steel, as a material, is infinitely recyclable without loss of structural integrity, ensuring the chair’s components can re-enter the material cycle at end of life.Furthermore, the design itself is engineered for longevity. By focusing on durability and timeless aesthetics, the Andorinha Chair avoids the environmental burden of disposable or trend-based furniture, embodying a philosophy of products that are built to last across generations.Finally, production efficiency is maintained through:Modular assembly, reducing production time and simplifying repairs or replacements if necessary.Local manufacturing partnerships, minimizing transportation emissions and supporting regional economies.In essence, the Andorinha Chair demonstrates how sustainability, technological innovation, and refined design can coexist – each decision intentionally aligned with a broader vision of design as a tool for positive environmental impact. Let me know if you want this reframed for your sustainability communication deck or upcoming award submissions this week.

The Andorinha Chair’s debut at Fuorisalone 2025 is more than the launch of a product; it’s an entry point into a broader conversation about lightness as both a structural and conceptual approach in furniture design.Influence on lightweight constructionI envision it setting a precedent for:Structural minimalism without fragility – demonstrating that through advanced techniques like CNC bending, laser welding, and optimized plywood molding, designers can achieve pieces that are visually light yet structurally robust.Material efficiency as design language – showing that reducing material doesn’t mean compromising comfort or ergonomics; rather, it can elevate both by stripping away the superfluous to reveal form and function in their purest synergy.Advancing Brazilian design innovationGlobally, the Andorinha Chair tells a uniquely Brazilian story:Rooted in cultural symbolism – the swallow (andorinha) as a metaphor for hope, journey, and adaptability resonates universally, yet is deeply tied to Brazilian maritime heritage and local narratives.Merging artisanal sensibility with high-tech precision – bridging the warmth and poetry inherent in Brazilian design with cutting-edge manufacturing, it reframes Brazil not only as a land of craft but also as a frontier of industrial design innovation.The broader visionIn debuting this piece at Fuorisalone, my goal is to:✔ Inspire designers to explore material lightness as a sustainability strategy.✔ Position Brazilian design as both conceptually rich and technologically advanced.✔ Reignite the global conversation around how cultural narratives, environmental responsibility, and production innovation can coalesce into objects that are deeply human yet globally relevant.If you’d like, I can distill this into a succinct keynote opening for your upcoming Milan presentation or into caption drafts for the Fuorisalone teaser posts this week.

Receiving the Silver A' Design Award for the Andorinha Chair has been deeply affirming, but more importantly, it has reshaped my approach to future projects in two core ways:1. Deepening the fusion of technical innovation with cultural storytellingThe recognition reinforced that design is most impactful when it is technically precise yet culturally resonant. For future projects, I feel inspired to:Push engineering boundaries further – exploring new fabrication techniques, advanced materials, and structural optimizations that expand what is possible in form, comfort, and sustainability.Embed narratives more intentionally – ensuring that each piece carries a story rooted in cultural context, scientific concepts, or human emotion, elevating it from object to symbol.2. Embracing design as global dialogueThe award showed me that Brazilian design, when executed with conceptual clarity and technical excellence, resonates internationally. This has shifted my mindset to:Design with a global lens – creating pieces that maintain local identity while addressing universal human experiences and design challenges.Integrate multidisciplinary thinking – merging architecture, engineering, material science, and storytelling into seamless creations that inspire both industry peers and end users.In essenceThe Andorinha Chair’s success has instilled a renewed commitment to creating objects that stand at the intersection of innovation and meaning – pieces that are not only beautiful and functional but also provoke reflection, carry narratives forward, and contribute to the evolving landscape of design.If helpful, I can translate these reflections into a manifesto statement for your upcoming collection presentation or your studio’s brand strategy revisions this month.