Tom Chung

Tom Chung is an independent industrial designer whose career has spanned oceans, mediums, and modes of making. From early experiments in reclaimed wood to a sharply refined design language shaped by European industry, Chung’s work merges industrial precision with personal narrative. Since founding his studio in 2016, he’s built a practice defined by poetic utility, cross-cultural references, and an evolving curiosity from furniture and lighting to spatial design and beyond.

01 Jul 2025

Karolina Wereszczynska

You grew up in Vancouver, studied in Vancouver, then built a studio in Toronto, and now you're based in Amsterdam. How has your design language shifted with each move? What drew you across the ocean?

When I was studying in Vancouver, I had the opportunity to do a semester abroad in Stockholm at a small wood furniture school. Before that, I didn’t have much experience or knowledge of the European design scene, my expectations were to graduate and maybe build reclaimed wood furniture. When I arrived, my mind was kind of blown. I got a crash course in contemporary design; the school had close ties with the furniture design industry in Sweden, so we visited production companies, museum archives, and design studios. It was a whole new world for me, coming from Canada where the focus was more on working at a corporate level. After school, I took a job at a large home goods company in Toronto designing bath accessories, and I also led a project that had me traveling across Asia to work with craft vendors for a new collection we were developing with external designers.

After a few years, by the time I was 25, I felt dissatisfied enough with working for other people that I decided to try starting my own studio. So I quit, used my savings to design a collection, and showed it at a European design fair, where I ended up meeting a lot of the companies I still work with today. That first collection really pushed me to find my own distinct way of working; most of it was developed using the industrial manufacturing around Toronto, leading to a simple industrial language. As I began working more in Europe, I started looking to relocate over here. I landed in Rotterdam in 2019, and more recently moved to Amsterdam. With COVID hitting right after I moved here, it’s only now that I feel like I’m really getting to take advantage of living here. I’m still looking forward to seeing how my work will continue to evolve by being in the city.

Biography

BIOGRAPHY Tom Chung’s work is defined by his international background and context driven approach that is grounded in smart production methods and contemporary culture.

Your work often merges the precision of industrial production with something more poetic. Do you see design as a form of storytelling? And if so, what story are you trying to tell with your work right now?

It’s a good question, and I think as a designer it’s something you’re always trying to figure out for yourself. For me, I want the work to reflect the time we’re living in, it should feel contemporary. I want it to sit alongside other cultural things being produced right now, like food, music, art, or fashion, and feel like it belongs in that world. There’s a big trend at the moment, partly because we’re in a down economy, of brands reissuing pieces from the '60s, '70s, and '80s. I think that does speak to the durability of good design, that certain pieces can hold up over time. But I also think it’s important that the objects we live with speak to what’s happening now, and are in dialogue with current ideas. If I had to name one thread that runs through my work, it’s probably that things are often brutally simple, but with a small or slightly awkward detail that gives it character.

There's a kind of elegant utility in everything, you create objects that feel stripped-back but never cold. How do you balance function with emotion in your process?

I usually start with an idea of what I want the thing I’m designing to do, but that doesn’t always mean something strictly functional. Sometimes I want to evoke a feeling, through material, form, or a reference point, something I’ve seen or found that sparks an interest. Right now, I’m working on a chair that melds one of my favourite design pieces, Robert Mallet-Stevens’ ‘222’ chair, with chairs found in a Chinese restaurant supply catalog. I think putting those two things in dialogue is interesting because, in a way, they’re both referencing the same source: a kind of Ming dynasty chair. It makes people think about cross-cultural narratives, and how we place value on certain objects over others.

From the Beam Lamp to the Fromme chair, your designs often stem from personal experiences or needs. Do you still approach projects with that same personal lens?

As a sole practitioner, I’ve never taken on an employee, intern, or freelancer, and I think that makes my work inherently personal. I treat everything I do with the same level of attention, whether it’s accounting, drawing, or computer work. I think anybody pursuing a creative practice alone is in a kind of race with themselves to keep doing what they are doing, and the ideas come from rare moments of clarity.

You founded your studio in 2016 nearly a decade ago. What part of that early vision still drives you? And what have you had to let go of along the way?

When I first started my studio, I was super young and pretty naive, which I actually think was a good thing. It’s a great time to try and build something, when you have all the confidence (and arrogance) of being young, and no real responsibilities yet. Since then, I’ve made a lot of mistakes, lived through a lot of failure and a bit of success, and learned a lot along the way. I think all of that has made me much more realistic, open, and thankful for anything that goes right, definitely more than I was when I started. What still drives me is the excitement of learning, working with likeminded people, and the desire to put new ideas into the world.

Amsterdam is full of makers, cyclists, and layered architectural histories. How has the city and maybe its pace challenged or inspired your creative rhythm?

Since moving to Amsterdam, I’ve been more productive than I have been in a really long time. I can’t quite put my finger on exactly what it is about the city, but there’s definitely a certain energy to it. It’s right in the centre of Europe and incredibly multicultural. It’s a bit of an enigma, a tiny city where you can access almost anything. Everyone’s living on top of each other, and you have to be comfortable navigating around people. That kind of energy is something I really crave in my work environment. I’m not someone who can sit alone in an empty studio in the countryside and just come up with ideas. I need to be immersed in a kind of buzz, something I can soak in, and then step away from. To find this balance, Amsterdam is sort of the perfect city.

Surplus, your newer venture, seems to stretch beyond objects into spatial design and even retail. What excites you about that interdisciplinary leap?

In the early years of my studio, product design didn’t really make any money. I was making a living through interior design. A lot of my friends in Canada worked in fashion, so I ended up designing a number of retail stores. It’s something I really enjoy, because it can be relatively fast and quite conceptual. A store can exist as its own bubble, removed from the outside world, almost like a kind of LARP,  but in that context, it makes sense. I started Surplus, which is a small object catalog and creative services, to formalize that part of my work, separate from product design. By removing my name from it, I also hope it can be more collaborative, something that allows me to work with others on projects of different scales, locally and elsewhere in the world.

Looking forward, what’s a material, format, or even a place you haven’t yet worked with that you're itching to explore next?

Now that I’m based in Europe and closer to the companies I’ve been working with, those relationships feel more natural and established. Lately, I’ve been looking more and more toward Asia. I think it has one of the most exciting contemporary design scenes right now, for both designers and manufacturing. I’ve recently started working with a small Korean company called Rock Scissors Paper, and I’d love to do more in Korea, Japan, and China.

For our community that might not be so familiar with the world of industrial design, what is a piece of industry knowledge that you think people would be surprised by?

People might be surprised by how difficult it can be to bring a design from the initial sketch all the way to market. On the flip side, there is a lasting quality to the work, and I still get to work on updates and improvements for objects I designed almost ten years ago.

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