FEATURE
Chen Chen & Kai Williams
Location
Brooklyn, NY
Type
Interview
Contact
Chen Chen and Kai Williams have become fixtures in the American design landscape since establishing their Brooklyn studio in 2011. Initially sharing workspace but working independently—Chen at the former conceptual design store Moss, Williams with artist Tom Sachs—their collaboration emerged during a post-recession period when the American studio design scene barely existed. Those early days of experimentation with limited resources birthed their signature approach: materials-focused explorations that embrace variability rather than perfection. Their prolific output spans collectible pieces represented by The Future Perfect, handcrafted rugs for Tai Ping, popular home goods for Areaware, an inventive stool adorned with dried sidewalk flowers for the Brooklyn Museum café renovation, and their upcoming guest curation for Jonald Dudd at Shelter.
The CCKW studio in South Slope functions as a creative laboratory where material exploration drives every project. Throughout their expansive workshop, evidence of their process-based approach is everywhere—from material samples to works-in-progress that reflect their philosophy that design should begin with hands-on experimentation. This approach has evolved from their breakthrough “Cold Cuts Coasters”—studio scraps bundled in resin and sliced like charcuterie—to their recent Sacred Tree collection. This sophisticated furniture and lighting series features elegant sconces with brass shades evoking rose petals, walnut chairs with sculptural steel backrests, and glass-topped tables displaying cross-sectioned walnuts. The collection emerged organically after their move near Green-Wood Cemetery, where contemplative walks sparked reflections on nature’s cycles of creation and decay—themes that unified what had previously seemed like disparate projects.
Despite their storied reputation in collectible design, Chen and Williams remain refreshingly dedicated to the experimental spirit that defined their early practice. Their studio operates as an ecosystem where even waste becomes valuable—plastic shavings from one project transform into stools for another, offcuts find new life in unexpected forms. This sustainable approach isn’t just ecological; it’s philosophical, reflecting their belief that creativity emerges from resourcefulness and that “passion projects” often lead to their most commercially successful work. Their sustained influence stems from a community-minded approach—actively sharing resources with fellow designers, participating in group exhibitions, and maintaining an approachable stance that contrasts with design’s often insular tendencies. By consistently showing up for their community while maintaining their signature style, Chen and Williams have helped shape the contemporary American design landscape into a more collaborative space where material experimentation and cross-disciplinary thinking can flourish.
Reflecting on the early days of your studio, what were some of the first projects that defined your identity as designers?
We started mixing materials together because we didn’t come from a craft discipline. We’re still not great wood, metal or stone workers in the strict lineage of each craft. Our strength is having a broad but shallow base of knowledge which allows us to mix things together in unexpected ways. That started with our earliest 3 projects, the Swell Vase (a spandex net injected with polyurethane foam), Cold Cuts Coasters (a piece of wood wrapped with resin soaked fabric), and Metamorphic Rock Bookend (broken stone shards cast into cement).
You’ve mentioned that your early work, created during a period of constraint, is still what you’re most proud of. How has that initial resourcefulness shaped your approach today?
We respond to the material telling us what it wants to be. We don’t have a fully formed idea and then try to materialize it. For example, we looked at the spandex netting from the Swell Vase and we realized it soaks up resin better than a solid sheet of fabric because there’s less strands and more surface area and decided to use it to make our Cold Cuts Coasters. By playing with the material it leads you to what it can be. That’s how we approach everything.
How do you define a “passion project” at this point in your career and what role do they play in your practice?
Anything that isn’t easily categorized for sales. There’s things you make that don’t fit into a category and if you don’t label it a “side table” or “desk” then there’s no market for it. We do these things for fun but also for research that can lead to a more commercializable product.
Your work often starts with material experimentation rather than sketching. How has this process-focused approach evolved as your studio has grown?
When you invent a process it’s a double edged sword. On one hand, it’s incredibly difficult for someone else to copy what you do but on the other hand it is very difficult to scale that process. The growth has come from looking at traditional manufacturing processes and designing specifically to the strengths of the process or even the factory. Our Leg Bowls came about because we visited the factory and realized they were a figurine factory and not just a generic slip casting factory.
On the topic of experimentation, could you take us behind the scenes on your Sacred Tree series—what was the starting point, and how did it evolve into its final form?
The Sacred Tree collection pulls together some disparate threads that we had been working on in parallel for many years. The Geffen Petal sconces are derived from the chandeliers we designed for the 2022 David Geffen Hall renovation that referenced the dropping of rose petals during Pentecost Mass at the Pantheon. The Walnut Chairs came from a Wenwan walnut I had picked up in China in 2018. And the Greenwood side tables were inspired by Fonthill Castle in Doylestown, PA. There was also another cabinet piece that was supposed to reference the trunk of a tree that has yet to be realized but we came to recognize that all of these pieces were inspired by different parts of plants and created the narrative of The Sacred Tree to pull all these threads together.
When developing a new collection like that, how do you balance between making the pieces production-ready versus maintaining that handmade, experimental quality you’re known for?
This collection was designed specifically to work on an artisanal multiple production level. They were designed with processes that could be scaled with a small network of fabricators so we could grow the number of techniques we employed without having to set up production in house. Then these disparate parts would come into the studio for assembly.
You’ve described watching silver being deposited on glass for your Geology Mirrors as more beautiful than the final product. What other “hidden moments” in your process bring you that kind of excitement?
Smearing “caviar”, a mixture of steel shot and epoxy resin, onto a silicone mold is very satisfying.
Your studio has been described as an ecosystem where even waste becomes valuable. What’s currently sitting in your studio that most people would consider trash but you see potential in?
We have a ton of plastic bags here. Even though they have been banned for years, it’s still incredibly easy to accumulate them. We make a collage-like material by melting them at a very specific temperature where it’s hot enough to fuse but not hot enough to make the graphics disappear.
After years in the field, do you find yourself driven by the same motivations as when you started, or has your “why” shifted over time?
We remind ourselves that it has to be fun. Fun is part of the compensation. There’s more efficient ways to make money.
