Interior Decor Posts on Crowch

The other morning I pushed a chair—not far, just enough to make room for a laundry basket—and immediately the whole room felt... off. Not wrong, but alert. Like the bookshelf noticed. Like the corner lamp cleared its throat.

This happens more than I’d like to admit. A tiny visual change creates a ripple, and suddenly I’m standing there rethinking the entire layout like I’ve walked into a stranger’s apartment wearing my own slippers. I used to call this “the Sunday Rearrangement Spiral.” Now, I see it as a ritual.

I’ve come to believe spaces hold onto emotions like fabric holds a scent. You move a chair and it stirs something old. You hang a picture and the room exhales. These aren’t design decisions—they’re quiet conversations. And sometimes, without noticing, I decorate based on memory, light, or just the shape of how I felt that morning.

What surprises me is how comforting these small rituals have become. It’s not about perfection. It’s about agency. In a world that often ignores nuance, it’s strangely powerful to notice how a pillow shifts or how the sunlight climbs the wall at 4:00 p.m.

So yes, I moved the chair. And now the rug wants to rotate. And maybe I’ll listen.

At this year’s Design Shanghai, one of the most thought-provoking sections was undoubtedly Talents+. Founded in 2020, this platform has grown into a powerful stage for emerging designers from China and around the world. The initiative empowers young creatives to express their vision freely, challenge conventions, and experiment with form and material. In 2025, the section took a bold thematic leap with “Confront Conflicts,” examining how design responds to an era marked by instability, war, and social fragmentation.

The exhibition featured 14 individual designers and studios, each presenting a unique perspective on how creative work can reflect, process, or even soften the impact of global crises. What should design look like when the world feels unstable? What emotional or intellectual role can objects play when security and peace are in question?

Let’s explore five standout participants whose visions stood out with radical honesty and poetic innovation.

🧠 Yin Dahua: Poetic Resistance to Technological Domination

Yin Dahua explores the intersection between the human body and the external world. His work questions the dominance of technology and rational thinking in contemporary life, offering instead a more sensory, embodied approach. His fragmented religious relics and tattooed totems serve as tributes to the flesh — a reminder that the body, with all its flaws, carries warmth, memory, and rebellion.

As Yin states, “In an age ruled by data, I highlight the dissonance between personal perception and so-called ‘objective reality’ by emphasizing the tactile and emotional.” His artifacts resemble ancient echoes of humanity’s enduring love affair with its own physical form.

🪑 Masaya Kawamoto: Embracing Imperfection Through Material Alchemy

Tokyo-based designer Masaya Kawamoto began his career designing office furniture for corporate clients but quickly shifted gears to found his own studio, where he pursues human-centric, material-driven design. His most emblematic piece — the PF chair — exemplifies this ethos. Crafted and colored by hand, each chair undergoes an unpredictable transformation in the kiln, making every piece unique.

Two finishes — Oboro and Kasumi — reference soft mists and elusive atmospheres, reflecting Kawamoto’s sensitivity to natural nuance. Each chair’s color and texture depend on the steel's thickness and cooling speed, meaning no two are alike — a quiet celebration of irregularity.

🧬 Abid Javed / Objets Mito: Where Biology Meets Form

London-based designer Abid Javed draws inspiration from the invisible worlds of mitochondria, cellular structure, and microbiology. His project Objets Mito explores sculptural biophilia — where biology and art entwine to form limited-edition pieces that blur the line between design and life.

Using clay as a base, he incorporates bronze, glass, and paper into abstract forms that resemble living organisms. At Design Shanghai, Javed extended the sensory experience further by adding custom fragrances to his sculptures — inviting visitors not only to see and touch, but also to smell the design.

🏛️ Doucement Design Studio: Where Architecture Meets Fabric

The French-named Doucement Studio blends architecture and fashion to explore the tension between hard and soft materials. “We find beauty in contrast,” the designers explain. “Like our name implies — softness — we draw inspiration from flowing organic forms and fleeting emotional states. We believe strength can also manifest through tenderness.”

Their work investigates this duality using textiles and concrete-like structures, turning domestic space into a metaphorical stage where emotion, weight, and delicacy coexist.

💡 RE+N Studio: Designing Light for a New Tomorrow

Founded by Harvard and Tsinghua alumni Yuting Zhang and Pu Zhang, RE+N (Re-Evolve Narrative Studio) operates at the intersection of architecture, storytelling, and sustainability. Based between Hangzhou and Shanghai, the studio emphasizes context and memory in its work.

Their debut series, Lunar Gleam, transforms light into an architectural medium. Crafted from recycled aluminum and 3D-printed bioplastics (PLA/PETG), these modular pieces function as both lamps and large-scale spatial installations. The series underscores the studio’s dedication to environmentally conscious design and the poetic potential of technology.

Hey friends 💛

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while — just to share some thoughts that have been quietly growing in the back of my mind. You know that feeling when you walk into a space and it just feels right? Like the energy is calm, the colors are soothing, and even the smallest details — the way a curtain falls, or the sound your steps make on the floor — seem intentional? That’s the magic of thoughtful design ✨

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time observing my surroundings — especially in quiet, in-between moments. Whether it's the curve of a handrail, the texture of old tiles, or the imperfect charm of a handmade mug — these little things really speak to me. As someone who’s always been obsessed with architecture, interiors, and all things art & design 🎨, I’ve realized something important: beautiful spaces don’t have to be big or expensive — they just have to be loved.

Architecture and interior design aren’t just for professionals or people with massive budgets. They’re for everyone — especially those of us who find inspiration in how space makes us feel. Your space is your canvas, your sanctuary, your self-expression 💫

So if you’ve been feeling a bit disconnected lately, or creatively blocked, or just craving a sense of peace — start with your surroundings. Move one thing. Light a candle. Hang a print you’ve been meaning to frame. Let your space tell a story that reflects your.

And if you ever want to talk about architecture, interiors, or even just which paint colors make you feel something — my comments are always open 💬

Hey lovelies! 💕 Michelle here. Sooo, I have to gush about this designer I've been completely obsessed with lately – Beata Heuman. Seriously, if you haven't stumbled upon her work yet, you're missing out on pure, unadulterated joy in design form! ✨

I first saw her book, "Every Room Should Sing," at this cute little art bookshop downtown (shoutout to Paper Moon Books! 📚), and the cover alone sucked me in. It was like a burst of happy energy! Heuman's style... wow. It's this magical blend of Swedish sensibility (clean lines, light) with whimsical, almost storybook-like fantasy. Think bold colors, unexpected patterns, quirky custom pieces, and this incredible sense of personality in every single room. Nothing feels sterile or overly serious.

What absolutely wrecked me (in the best way!) was her attention to detail. Like, she'll add the most adorable scalloped edges to a lampshade, or pair a super traditional piece with something wildly modern and sculptural. Her use of texture is insane too – rough linens next to glossy lacquers, fluffy rugs under sleek furniture. It shouldn't always work, but in her hands, it just *sings* (hence the book title, right? 😉).

Why I'm obsessed & why you might be too:

1. Fearless Color & Pattern: She's not afraid of bold choices, but it never feels chaotic. It feels intentional and joyful. Major inspo for adding a little drama to my tiny apartment!

2. Everything Has Soul: Her spaces feel lived-in and unique, not like a showroom. You can tell the people who live there have stories. She designs these incredible bespoke pieces (lamps! hardware! furniture!) that are like little works of art themselves.

3. Playfulness: Design can sometimes feel stuffy, but Heuman injects pure fun and imagination. It reminds me not to take it too seriously and to embrace what makes me smile, even if it's a bit quirky.

Honestly, diving into her world has made me look at my own space differently. Maybe I do need that slightly-too-bold cushion, or maybe I should paint that old bookshelf a crazy color! It's all about creating a home that feels authentically you, full of things you love.

So spill the tea! 👇 Have you discovered any amazing designers lately that make your heart skip a beat? Or are you crushing on Beata too? Let me know in the comments! Let's share the inspo! ✨

A few years ago, I stumbled across a word I didn’t know — wabi-sabi. It stopped me in my tracks. I’d been trying for weeks to “fix” a cracked ceramic bowl that I’d made — sanding, repainting, hiding. But wabi-sabi whispered something else: maybe that crack is the point. In Japanese philosophy, wabi-sabi is the art of appreciating imperfection, impermanence, and simplicity. Not just accepting flaws — loving them. That idea changed everything.

Like many of us, I was raised on glossy magazines and Pinterest boards — everything neat, shiny, curated. But real life isn’t that. Real life has chipped mugs, fading fabrics, and nail holes from frames long taken down. Wabi-sabi taught me that these aren’t failures — they’re traces of time, and time is beautiful. Now, when I see a scratch on a wooden chair, I think: that’s where my grandson kicked it while dancing. That’s not damage — that’s memory.

I began with small things. I stopped repainting the chipped enamel teapot. I left the seam slightly crooked on a pillow I sewed by hand. Then it got deeper: I embraced slow projects. I started mending clothes with visible stitches, known as sashiko. I used dried flowers instead of always buying fresh ones. I stopped hiding the unfinished. Suddenly, my home felt warmer. More honest. More like me.

If you want to try wabi-sabi living, start small. Let your favorite old sweater show its age. Use mismatched plates at dinner. Leave some corners unfinished — on purpose. Or better yet, repair something with love: glue a chipped mug, stitch a torn apron, or repaint a scratched surface without hiding its history. Wabi-sabi isn’t about being rustic — it’s about being real. It's about choosing what feels soulful over what looks perfect.

More than a design idea, wabi-sabi has become a personal philosophy. It reminds me that I, too, am a little chipped — and still beautiful. That time softens everything, including grief. That nothing lasts — and that’s exactly why it’s precious. My home isn’t a showroom. It’s a poem in progress. And just like that cracked bowl, just like that uneven stitch — it’s whole, because it’s human.