Bag of Bones is a sculptural meditation on mortality, resilience, and transformation. Crafted from a rotating stack of split bamboo “bones,” the piece evokes a skeletal form—both architectural and organic. The lower segments are varnished, their gloss suggesting the artificial, the preserved. As the eye rises, the bamboo transitions to a raw, untreated state: a quiet movement from the polished to the pure, from artifice to authenticity. This progression mirrors a passage—from death to renewal, from structure to spirit.

At once delicate and grounded, Bag of Bones reveals the quiet power and poetic potential of bamboo as a medium.

In Winged Structure, Unresolved, the bamboo’s kinetic potential comes together in a spatial proposition that hovers, literally and conceptually, between stability and lift-off. Is it infrastructure, pavilion or art? It vibrates at the edge of all three.

The central hyperbolic column—part spinal axis, part architectural anchor—suggests a will to ground, while the surrounding arcs, sprung into improbable flight, evoke wings in mid-beat. There’s an unmistakable sense of something about to happen. A takeoff? A collapse? One is reminded of architectural renderings abandoned before the zoning committee could say no.

The result is a form caught between the natural and the not-yet-decided, offering viewers a space in which to project: a flying chapel, a hovering scarab, a mistake that became meaningful. Unresolved, yes. But gloriously so.

This armchair explores the potential of bamboo as a lasting, structural furniture material. Utilizing the natural curves and tubular geometry of bamboo, the design merges traditional joinery with bolted reinforcements for strength and modernity. Treated with borax for durability, the chair transcends its roots in ephemeral beach furniture to become a serious contender in sustainable, high-end design. Its form is minimal, yet expressive — a statement of material honesty and ecological intelligence.

5 × 5 cm | Split bamboo on woven mat

A playful meditation on form at miniature scale, this tiny bamboo sculpture explores the expressive potential of the hyperbolic paraboloid. Composed of delicately split bamboo halus, it reveals a structure that is part geometry, part gesture — somewhere between a yoga pose, a falling leaf, and a proto-pavilion.

Depending on its orientation, the piece takes on different personalities: a dancer mid-turn, a shelter about to unfold, or a creature stretching into space. It is as much about the space it carves as the lines that define it. A study in lightness, balance, and curiosity, it asks: how much form can you squeeze into five centimeters?

Crafted in Thailand, the piece continues the artist’s exploration of bamboo as both expressive material and structural logic.

This handcrafted bamboo artwork explores the ancient symbol of Yin and Yang through a contemporary lens. Made from splits of two different bamboo species (Dendrocalamus Asper and Dendrocalamus Asper negro), the piece combines natural contrast — warm blonde against deep chocolate — into a harmonious circular weave.

Inspired by the intricate bamboo screens of Northern Thailand’s hill tribes, the work is both rooted in tradition and playfully modern. The disc, formed with fine bamboo halus (splits), has been carefully epoxied into place, merging chaos and balance in a tactile, organic meditation.

The gridshell is one of bamboo’s most flexible structural typologies: a system where logic, lightness, and chance meet in curved equilibrium. A gridshell distributes weight and wind load across the entire surface—rendering the structure improbably strong by eliminating singular stress points. It’s basically a net that became a building.

What intrigues me is the method: woven bamboo strips—often with no mechanical fixings—draped, bent, or otherwise persuaded into an organic form. The weave can be precise, orthogonal, rational. Or it can be anarchic, a kind of material improvisation.

Inspired by artists like Wang Wen-Chih and Marco Casagrande, the gridshell is a canvas at the edge of architecture and installation art. It’s particularly useful for those attempting to introduce bamboo into unfamiliar contexts—because thin strips are surprisingly easy to source globally.

Typically shaped over an initial guiding frame, the structure then finds its own rhythm. Of the four primary systems in bamboo design, the gridshell is the most playful: part engineering, part drawing in space.

The hyperbolic paraboloid—an elegant, double-curved surface—serves as a central motif in my bamboo explorations. Its sweeping geometry, often called a “hypar,” is not only visually compelling but also structurally efficient. Bamboo, with its exceptional tensile strength and lightness, is the perfect medium for crafting these forms.​

In my work, I experiment with hypars of varying scales and configurations. Some evoke movement—figures in mid-stride, breakdancing, or holding yoga poses—while others embrace pure abstraction. Each piece is a study in balance and tension, where curves meet at unexpected angles, and light plays across the surfaces.​

These structures are not just artistic expressions but also explorations of bamboo’s potential in design and architecture. By pushing the boundaries of this sustainable material, I aim to create forms that are both functional and poetic.​

Through these paraboloid studies, I invite viewers to see bamboo not just as a traditional material but as a medium for contemporary expression, capable of capturing movement, emotion, and the essence of modern design.

Bamboo model studies form an essential part of my design language — not simply as prototypes, but as objects of inquiry in their own right. In many ways, model making is analogous to sketching: it’s a tactile form of thinking, where ideas are discovered through the hands, not just the head. In bamboo architecture, this process is often called form finding — an intuitive, iterative search for structure through movement, tension, and gesture. You simply begin, and see what emerges.

Working at model scale allows me to explore the unique behavior of bamboo — how it bends, resists, or collapses — before any commitment is made at full scale. These miniature studies act as spatial rehearsals: investigations into joinery, rhythm, and curvature.

But beyond their function, the models possess a quiet sculptural presence. Each one is a physical thought, a moment in the evolution of a larger idea. They sit between design and artwork — small, expressive, and full of possibility.

Children’s faces often light up when they see them. There’s something instantly accessible in their scale — a world that feels both playful and precise, inviting you to imagine what might come next.