Krystal Cheng’s Monkey Chair challenges traditional notions of “proper” sitting. Created at SCAD, the chair features carved walnut and red oak with a distinctive thick back leg resembling a monkey limb. What captivates us most are the tactile details – vacuum-formed leather bananas etched with fur patterns and an articulated tail filled with walnut “bones” creating an uncanny, lifelike sensation. Having grown up being told she “sat like a monkey” whenever she curled up comfortably, Cheng transforms this cultural critique into a deliberate design feature, with multiple footrests that actively encourage the cross-legged postures her mother once discouraged.

What inspired this design, and how did that inspiration translate into specific elements we see in the final piece?

Spending my formative years in China and my teenager-to-young-adulthood years in the U.S., I’m constantly navigating the space between two cultures. That duality has made me more reflective and emotionally sensitive — especially when it comes to ideas around space, behavior, and what’s considered “proper.” It’s also given me a quiet rebelliousness, a playful urge to challenge expectations — especially around formality and how the body is allowed to exist in space.

The Monkey Chair is very much a response to that. The inspiration came from something simple and personal: I’ve always liked sitting cross-legged or curled up, even in formal settings. But growing up, my mom had strong opinions about posture — she’d often remind me that girls should sit properly, no slouching, no pulling your legs up. Whenever I did, she’d joke that I sat “like a little monkey.” That phrase stuck with me.

As I started working on this chair, I kept thinking about that memory. I wanted to create a design that didn’t correct those instinctive postures, but celebrated them. That’s where the foot perch and asymmetrical leg nubs came from — subtle supports that invite perching, folding, curling up. It’s a chair that responds to the body’s instincts, not to etiquette.

And of course, the “monkey” idea became more layered over time. In Chinese culture, the monkey — especially Sun Wukong, the Monkey King — is clever, rebellious, mischievous, and strong. That spirit found its way into the piece too.

What feature or detail of this piece are you most proud of, and what’s the story behind it?

I think the part I’m most proud of is definitely the tail. It’s a detail that surprises almost everyone who encounters the chair in person — both visually and physically. It’s made from vacuum-formed leather and internally segmented with walnut “bones,” giving it a lifelike, articulated feel.

A lot of my ideas honestly just come to me mid-process — I don’t always plan them out ahead of time. The idea of adding “bones” inside the tail wasn’t something I thought of from the start. It just kind of appeared, like a little gift, one random day while I was carving texture on the chair. I remember telling a few friends and classmates about it, and their reactions were so unexpected. I felt like an absolute genius for about an hour straight.

I got so caught up in building it that I completely forgot to document the process. I only realized after I glued the whole tail shut that I didn’t take any good photos of the walnut bone pieces inside — just the bad one that I had in the package.

But having no good photos to let people know before they experience the chair actually made the final experience better. No one really knows what’s inside the tail until they touch it. then squeeze it again. It’s that strange mix of soft and firm, squishy but structured. People try to figure out what they just felt. It catches them off guard. Some say it feels like an actual animal — like a tail with bones.

That’s what I love most about it — it feels like it’s interacting with you. It’s not just about how it looks, it’s about how it feels, and how your body responds to it. One of my friends said that I am a freak in the most incredible way. I honestly love that. I’m proud to be a little weird.

Korean woodworker Hong Yeong Choe brings playful animal forms to life through meticulous craftsmanship. His Big Bird table emerged when he noticed wood joinery resembling a bird’s foot, with wings that fold to create a playful triangle shape. The Milk Cow chair, inspired by his lifelong love of milk, uses white maple wood with hand-painted milk paint for the characteristic spots. In both pieces, Choe approaches his materials with the same careful consideration a portrait artist might give their subject, resulting in furniture that feels deliberately characterized—from the triangle shape that appears when Big Bird’s wings fold to the dumbbell-shaped nose piercing that gives Milk Cow its distinctive expression.

What inspired this design, and how did that inspiration translate into specific elements we see in the final piece?

When I first started woodworking, there was a time when I was very interested in wood joinery.

While I was assembling a long piece of lumber by fitting it here and there, I happened to see a shape that looked like a bird’s foot. I immediately thought that I should make something using this, and this was made into 3 Bird Table with a simple round shelf.

As time passed, I saw a folding and extendable table at a vintage shop, and the flapping of bird wings came to mind. I immediately started sketching for the next work.

The birds that I liked were Ho-Oh and Pidgeot from Pokemon, a shoebill, and Feathers McGraw, I used these friends as references for my design. I made the bird’s foot large, and attached bird wings that I cut and carved to the round top body. I added a beak to the head so that I could hang something on it. I added a small tail that was a step higher to the back. Even though he is a bald friend, you can feel like you are playing with a doll by making a fedora, baseball cap, and McGraw’s rubber gloves. The most adorable point is the triangle shape that appears when the wings are folded. It is clearly a wooden piece of furniture, but it seems to give off affection like a pet.

What inspired this design, and how did that inspiration translate into specific elements we see in the final piece?

This is a very personal story, but I love milk. It’s pure white milk, and I’ve been drinking it like water since I was little. That’s why cows feel very familiar to me. Especially milk cows.

As usual, I was sketching on the back of a piece of paper, and I drew a cow. I thought of myself riding a cow, then of a rodeo, and my thoughts kept going on and on. This eventually became Bull Seat.

Starting with this first work, the next naturally led to a milk cow. I wanted a cute and round image, so I applied round and soft lines to the nose and leg parts. The white maple wood was the perfect material for a cow.

I precisely cut the lumber with a saw, processed it, fitted it, and assembled it. I sanded it thoroughly for a smooth surface.

The material I found for the cow’s signature pattern was none other than ‘milk’ paint. It was like a fateful encounter with milk. I finished it off with hand painting.

The thing I’m most proud of is the dumbbell-shaped piercing on my nose. It’s a cute and sturdy friend.

RISD graduate Lorna Zhang’s Cat Chair translates her Siamese cat Pidan’s energy into children’s furniture. The design incorporates a spring mechanism inspired by both feline flexibility and research showing how gentle motion helps children regulate attention. Zhang cleverly translates her Siamese cat Pidan’s movement into a practical design solution for children, with the spring mechanism supporting young bodies while subtly referencing feline flexibility. The upholstery’s white and brown colors reference Pidan’s coat while ergonomically supporting a child’s back in a silhouette resembling a curled-up cat.

Your Cat Chair seems to perfectly blend playfulness with functional design. Could you tell us about the relationship between your cat Pidan and this piece – how did observing your Siamese cat’s movements and personality directly influence the spring mechanism and overall form of the chair?

Absolutely! Pidan has always been a cat full of personality since kittenhood. Unlike many calm and gentle cats, Siamese cats are known for their energetic, playful—even occasionally destructive—nature. At home, Pidan is constantly zooming around, leaping onto furniture, and inventing new ways to demand attention. Watching him reminded me of young children during that curious, mischievous stage when they’re always climbing, jumping, and exploring their environment.

This parallel between a playful kitten and a curious child became the heart of my inspiration for the Cat Chair. I wanted to translate that sense of liveliness into both form and function. The spring mechanism under the seat mimics the flexibility and bounce of a cat’s body, offering a seating experience that gently responds to movement. This choice was also informed by research in Sensory Integration Theory and Self-Regulation Theory, often referenced in child neuro development and educational psychology. Studies have shown that subtle motion—like rocking or bouncing—can help some children, particularly those with ADHD or sensory-seeking tendencies, to better regulate their attention and stay engaged.

Visually, the chair continues this feline narrative. The upholstery uses a combination of white and brown, directly inspired by Pidan’s Siamese coat. The placement of the upholstery not only provides ergonomic support for a child’s back and hips, but also subtly echoes the silhouette of a curled-up cat. Altogether, the design blends comfort, science, and a sense of storytelling—celebrating both the spirited nature of Siamese cats and the dynamic needs of growing children.

Your work demonstrates a dedication to traditional craftsmanship techniques alongside innovative design thinking. What was the most challenging or surprising part of the Cat Chair creation process, and how did it change your approach to furniture design?

The Cat Chair was definitely a pivotal point in my design journey. Before creating it, I had rarely integrated my personal experiences or emotions into the narrative of a design—I often approached furniture more from a functional or aesthetic perspective, keeping a certain distance between myself and the object. This project changed that.

What surprised me most during the process was how natural and powerful it felt to let something as personal as my relationship with my cat, Pidan, guide the entire design. Observing his behavior—his playful energy, his constant movement, even the way he rests—became more than just inspiration; it shaped the function, form, and emotional tone of the piece. Translating that into something that could be both emotionally resonant and physically interactive was a new challenge, especially when working with elements like springs and soft forms, which required precision to maintain safety and comfort.

Craft-wise, finding the balance between playful expression and technical feasibility pushed me to learn more about fabrication methods and ergonomics, especially when designing for children. It made me realize how storytelling, emotional connection, and user experience can work hand in hand with craftsmanship.

Since then, I’ve begun to see furniture not just as objects, but as carriers of narrative—pieces that can connect people to memories, personalities, and even relationships. It’s a shift that has deepened my approach to design in a way I hadn’t anticipated.