September 3, 2025
Art
A Seat of The Art
An architect at heart, Caroline Chao finds herself in the space between soaring skyscrapers and intimate interiors. Drawn away from the detachment of large-scale structures, she finds meaning in smaller, more personal objects. Chairs, mirrors, tables, and beyond. Highly intellectual and extremely conceptual, she approaches her work with an abundance of knowledge and a meticulous eye for detail. For The Art of Raw, Chao creates a chair that challenges the traditional understanding of furniture.
It’s not simply about form and function; Chao’s designs explore the dynamic relationship between humans and their surroundings. She is driven by the pursuit of challenging one’s perspective, whether that’s quite literally through the use of mirrors, or more figuratively through a chair. Trained as an architect at Harvard and the University of Pennsylvania, Chao embodies the balance between artistic intuition and calculated research. Combining these dualities, she creates The Roll-Up Chair for us. A thought piece inspired by the utilitarian heritage of denim, camping, and military gear. As well as the compact interiors of New York, where the artist is based. The result is a functional artwork that encapsulates our philosophy of aesthetic utility. We recently sat down with Chao to discuss denim, its intricacies, and the question: “why can’t furniture fold like clothing?”
You have a very impressive educational background. What initially drew you to study architecture and how did that evolve?
My way into architecture was through fine arts. I loved the artistic side of it but wanted to combine that with function. So, I started my career in architecture, working on large buildings and skyscrapers. But over time, I realized that I was more drawn to smaller, personal projects. That led me back to grad school, where I explored the space between architecture and object design. I find that scale fascinating — it’s where we, as humans, interact most directly. Unlike skyscrapers, which we experience from a distance, objects like furniture, interiors, or small buildings are tangible and intimate. They connect with people on a personal level.
What sparked the interest in fine arts?
I love design. When you're young and haven't studied these fields yet, you don’t always know exactly what you're drawn to, you just know you’re attracted to the arts, to certain aesthetics. Over time, I realized that what I truly love is design. And not just architecture, or just furniture — it’s the space in-between that excites me, where I can explore both. I love designing objects and spaces that invite people to think differently. The same piece can evoke completely different reactions depending on who’s experiencing it, and that fascinates me. I’m deeply interested in perception and how design can challenge our assumptions. How do we create spaces and objects that push the boundaries of what we think we know? For example, what is a chair and how can we rethink it?
Your work is deeply conceptual. Can you tell us more about how you developed this particular idea?
I was reading this book about objects designed to come apart and be reassembled. And that got me thinking about camp furniture. It’s in the same category as the furniture people use in the military. Lightweight, portable, and functional. That seemed like an interesting parallel with denim: once workwear, now a fashion statement. I wondered if camp furniture, often overlooked and rarely thought of as interesting, could be reimagined as art. I think it provokes a conversation of what furniture could be today. Living in cities like New York, you’re constantly fighting for space, and creating modular furniture can have real utility. We constantly move and ship goods, so the ability to disassemble and reassemble furniture feels more relevant than ever.
My way into architecture was through fine arts. I loved the artistic side of it but wanted to combine that with function. So, I started my career in architecture, working on large buildings and skyscrapers. But over time, I realized that I was more drawn to smaller, personal projects. That led me back to grad school, where I explored the space between architecture and object design. I find that scale fascinating — it’s where we, as humans, interact most directly. Unlike skyscrapers, which we experience from a distance, objects like furniture, interiors, or small buildings are tangible and intimate. They connect with people on a personal level.
What sparked the interest in fine arts?
I love design. When you're young and haven't studied these fields yet, you don’t always know exactly what you're drawn to, you just know you’re attracted to the arts, to certain aesthetics. Over time, I realized that what I truly love is design. And not just architecture, or just furniture — it’s the space in-between that excites me, where I can explore both. I love designing objects and spaces that invite people to think differently. The same piece can evoke completely different reactions depending on who’s experiencing it, and that fascinates me. I’m deeply interested in perception and how design can challenge our assumptions. How do we create spaces and objects that push the boundaries of what we think we know? For example, what is a chair and how can we rethink it?
Your work is deeply conceptual. Can you tell us more about how you developed this particular idea?
I was reading this book about objects designed to come apart and be reassembled. And that got me thinking about camp furniture. It’s in the same category as the furniture people use in the military. Lightweight, portable, and functional. That seemed like an interesting parallel with denim: once workwear, now a fashion statement. I wondered if camp furniture, often overlooked and rarely thought of as interesting, could be reimagined as art. I think it provokes a conversation of what furniture could be today. Living in cities like New York, you’re constantly fighting for space, and creating modular furniture can have real utility. We constantly move and ship goods, so the ability to disassemble and reassemble furniture feels more relevant than ever.
The chair features these padded denim rolls — what inspired that design choice? Were you thinking of camping gear, like those roll-up sleeping mats?
Yes, that’s definitely part of it. The rolls and seat pads were inspired by camp furniture, especially those inflatable sleeping mats you roll up and carry on your back. But for this project, I see the chair more as a thought piece. It invites us to rethink what furniture can be. The frame is made from steel tubing, drawing from industrial materials like construction fasteners, conduits, and prefabricated railing parts. Every component is taken from a completely different place, something you would never expect in a chair. The upholstered rolls which can be unrolled are mostly inspired by sleeping bags and mats, and in theory could even function as such. Using G-STAR denim adds another layer, there’s a rich history of utilitarian fashion there, which felt special to incorporate. Finally, the chair can be fully disassembled and hung on a wall, almost like a garment. The transformation from functional object to something that resembles clothing was a really interesting endpoint for me.
The chair clearly functions more as a thought piece but is it actually possible to sit on it?
Yes, absolutely. For all of my pieces, functionality is really important to me. And actually, a lot of thought went into the ergonomics of this chair. What I realized when trying to figure this out is that, fundamentally, all you need is a seat rest and a back rest. And as long as those two components are ergonomically considered in terms of proportion and spacing, they end up supporting the body exactly where it’s needed. Obviously, it’s not designed for an eight-hour workday, but yes, you can absolutely sit on it. I think people are often surprised by how comfortable it is, especially given its sculpture-like appearance.
That makes sense. Also, you mentioned that you were working with these railing components. Where do you source these kinds of things?
I am very interested in sourcing from unexpected places. With most of my work, I often turn to some sort of an industrial supplier. For example, the steel frame parts came from someone who typically manufactures handrail systems. For the prototype I made for G-STAR, I used actual electrical conduit sourced from an industrial supplier, who probably has never worked with furniture designers before, only electricians and contractors. A big part of this functional art industry is that it’s so custom. Obviously, it takes a lot of energy and labor to create something like that. And that always makes me wonder if we can create something just as special and interesting with supplies that already exist in the world? For example, construction byproducts. Then, we also challenge the way we think about overlooked materials and combine components in the most unexpected ways.
Yes, that’s definitely part of it. The rolls and seat pads were inspired by camp furniture, especially those inflatable sleeping mats you roll up and carry on your back. But for this project, I see the chair more as a thought piece. It invites us to rethink what furniture can be. The frame is made from steel tubing, drawing from industrial materials like construction fasteners, conduits, and prefabricated railing parts. Every component is taken from a completely different place, something you would never expect in a chair. The upholstered rolls which can be unrolled are mostly inspired by sleeping bags and mats, and in theory could even function as such. Using G-STAR denim adds another layer, there’s a rich history of utilitarian fashion there, which felt special to incorporate. Finally, the chair can be fully disassembled and hung on a wall, almost like a garment. The transformation from functional object to something that resembles clothing was a really interesting endpoint for me.
The chair clearly functions more as a thought piece but is it actually possible to sit on it?
Yes, absolutely. For all of my pieces, functionality is really important to me. And actually, a lot of thought went into the ergonomics of this chair. What I realized when trying to figure this out is that, fundamentally, all you need is a seat rest and a back rest. And as long as those two components are ergonomically considered in terms of proportion and spacing, they end up supporting the body exactly where it’s needed. Obviously, it’s not designed for an eight-hour workday, but yes, you can absolutely sit on it. I think people are often surprised by how comfortable it is, especially given its sculpture-like appearance.
That makes sense. Also, you mentioned that you were working with these railing components. Where do you source these kinds of things?
I am very interested in sourcing from unexpected places. With most of my work, I often turn to some sort of an industrial supplier. For example, the steel frame parts came from someone who typically manufactures handrail systems. For the prototype I made for G-STAR, I used actual electrical conduit sourced from an industrial supplier, who probably has never worked with furniture designers before, only electricians and contractors. A big part of this functional art industry is that it’s so custom. Obviously, it takes a lot of energy and labor to create something like that. And that always makes me wonder if we can create something just as special and interesting with supplies that already exist in the world? For example, construction byproducts. Then, we also challenge the way we think about overlooked materials and combine components in the most unexpected ways.
Definitely. It also has its own story and history behind, traces of its past. And it seems quite sustainable, reusing or repurposing what's already out there. Similar to the deadstock denim that you used…
And then the other thing we incorporated were the silver snap buttons that are used on the jeans. Those are what keep the cushion in place.
In the rest of your work, you use a lot of hard materials. At first glance, you immediately notice chrome, glass, and metal. Is there a reason you gravitate towards them?
I think it has a lot to do with my interest in exploring perception. Materials like glass and chrome reflect their surroundings, light, and even yourself in very different ways. They felt like the right mediums to explore concepts around how we perceive space, ourselves, and our presence within that space. Many of my pieces use these materials to play with reflection and how light shifts throughout the day.
How was it for you working with denim? Was it very different from what you're used to?
Yes, definitely. I’ve worked with upholstery fabrics before, but this was my first time working with denim. It was a fun and interesting challenge because denim behaves very differently from softer materials. Especially for this chair, which was designed to be rolled — it uses 13-foot-long strips that are rolled into the cushion. To achieve the right diameter for comfort, you need a lot of length. There was a lot of prototyping involved to make sure the denim rolled properly and didn’t bunch in the wrong places. It reacts unlike any other fabric I’ve worked with.
That must have been even more challenging with raw denim, it needs to be broken in. Only over time, it molds to the body and develops personal signs of wear, what they call “fades” in denim culture.
Exactly, and that’s something I found really fascinating. Just like how raw denim changes with wear, an upholstered seat changes over time as you use it. I’m excited to see how time and use will affect the appearance of the denim and the upholstery. I think one of the most interesting qualities about denim is how it ages.
And then the other thing we incorporated were the silver snap buttons that are used on the jeans. Those are what keep the cushion in place.
In the rest of your work, you use a lot of hard materials. At first glance, you immediately notice chrome, glass, and metal. Is there a reason you gravitate towards them?
I think it has a lot to do with my interest in exploring perception. Materials like glass and chrome reflect their surroundings, light, and even yourself in very different ways. They felt like the right mediums to explore concepts around how we perceive space, ourselves, and our presence within that space. Many of my pieces use these materials to play with reflection and how light shifts throughout the day.
How was it for you working with denim? Was it very different from what you're used to?
Yes, definitely. I’ve worked with upholstery fabrics before, but this was my first time working with denim. It was a fun and interesting challenge because denim behaves very differently from softer materials. Especially for this chair, which was designed to be rolled — it uses 13-foot-long strips that are rolled into the cushion. To achieve the right diameter for comfort, you need a lot of length. There was a lot of prototyping involved to make sure the denim rolled properly and didn’t bunch in the wrong places. It reacts unlike any other fabric I’ve worked with.
That must have been even more challenging with raw denim, it needs to be broken in. Only over time, it molds to the body and develops personal signs of wear, what they call “fades” in denim culture.
Exactly, and that’s something I found really fascinating. Just like how raw denim changes with wear, an upholstered seat changes over time as you use it. I’m excited to see how time and use will affect the appearance of the denim and the upholstery. I think one of the most interesting qualities about denim is how it ages.
What was your biggest challenge overall with this project?
I would say there was a lot of invention involved in this, which was both incredibly exciting and difficult. Anytime you use components in ways they weren’t originally intended, it’s a challenge. A lot of time and effort went into this, especially making sure the upholstery, the padding, and the ergonomics worked. Another big challenge was designing a piece to be disassembled. When you’re not using glue or welding, everything relies on structural and mechanical fasteners. The design has to be secure, but also easy to take apart.
Is ergonomic design something you always consider in your work?
Absolutely. When designing a chair, ergonomics are essential — otherwise, what’s the point of calling it a chair? Even if it’s more of an art piece, I believe it should still function as intended. Sitting is one of the most basic human actions. We’ve been doing it for thousands of years and will continue to do so. The idea of what’s ergonomic has evolved over time, and I find that really interesting. While ergonomics might not be the top priority in all my work, it’s always one of them.
It’s utilitarian art.
Exactly.
I would say there was a lot of invention involved in this, which was both incredibly exciting and difficult. Anytime you use components in ways they weren’t originally intended, it’s a challenge. A lot of time and effort went into this, especially making sure the upholstery, the padding, and the ergonomics worked. Another big challenge was designing a piece to be disassembled. When you’re not using glue or welding, everything relies on structural and mechanical fasteners. The design has to be secure, but also easy to take apart.
Is ergonomic design something you always consider in your work?
Absolutely. When designing a chair, ergonomics are essential — otherwise, what’s the point of calling it a chair? Even if it’s more of an art piece, I believe it should still function as intended. Sitting is one of the most basic human actions. We’ve been doing it for thousands of years and will continue to do so. The idea of what’s ergonomic has evolved over time, and I find that really interesting. While ergonomics might not be the top priority in all my work, it’s always one of them.
It’s utilitarian art.
Exactly.
