Antares Yee, the visionary behind Sun at Six Furniture Design Studio in New York City, has a story that blends heritage, creativity, and a touch of irony. Raised in the foggy beach town of Santa Cruz, California, Yee grew up surrounded by furniture, thanks to his mother’s career as a designer.
Ironically, it was this constant exposure that initially made him despise the craft. Yet, fate had a different plan. His journey from reluctance to passion, fueled by a fresh perspective gained in New York’s design scene, transformed Yee into a prominent figure in the world of furniture design.
Yee shares his unique creative process, cultural inspirations, and the philosophy that drives his practical yet timeless designs.
What made you decide that being a furniture designer was your calling?
I hated furniture growing up. My mom is a furniture designer, and I essentially grew up in a warehouse around furniture, boxes, forklifts, and pallet jacks. She worked all the time, and I was always stuck in the warehouse with my sister, wasting tape and destroying packing supplies.
I’d helped my mom here and there and sketched a few designs to try and participate in what my mom was doing, but I generally viewed furniture as a boring commodity, like oil or gas: an artless thing you needed to live.
It wasn’t until I was in New York City working in the design industry that I began to gain an appreciation for what my mom did creatively. I was hungry, ambitious, and full of myself, and I wanted to express my own vision, but I was also tired of digital design and being on the computer all day.
After working for various design studios in NYC, I decided I’d design my own furniture. It sold well at my first trade show, and from there, it kept growing and it became a full-time thing.
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How would you describe your personal style and approach to designing furniture?
First, I sketched a ton of concepts quickly and dirty, got as many bad ideas out as possible, and then crossed them out one by one. Eventually, I narrow in on concepts with potential and then begin to refine them.
That said, It’s more punctuated equilibrium than gradualism: one week I’ll be inspired and work out a year’s worth of concepts. Then a month can pass where I bang my head against the wall daily and come up with nothing worthwhile.
Do you have any design inspiration, whether it be from your culture, other cultures, or anything else in between?
Too much inspiration is the problem these days for me. There’s inspiration everywhere. You can passively consume dozens of concepts worldwide just by scrolling mindlessly for two minutes after you wake up on a Tuesday morning.
Some designers have specific and narrow viewpoints and dig deep into that niche, following a motif they find interesting.
For me, I might design something on back-to-back weeks inspired by completely different periods, cultures, and motifs. There’s always a backlog of a few promising concepts that just haven’t found the right home in a piece or where I just couldn’t find the right execution, and I tend to jump between them.
As far as inspiration, there are some constants, though. My mom was influenced heavily by minimalism, simplicity, and functionality, and I’ve inherited some of that and dug deeper into those designers, cultures, and periods where that perspective is relevant.
I tend to under-design rather than over-design. The irregularity of nature—like the growth patterns in branches and the random faceting of rocks—has always been an inspiration.
What design project have you done that’s stuck with you throughout your career?
Probably one of the first ones I ever did back in middle school: My mom was coming up with table designs, and I sat down with a pencil and printer paper and started alongside her, producing a concept that eventually was sold at some large, high-end retailers in the US.
It was the first event that broke the sanctity of design for me, took idols off their pedestals, and made me realize people who run fashion brands, etc, are just normal people who start somewhere modest.
It gave me the confidence that if I worked hard enough, I could go pretty far.
How do you incorporate design elements from the communities you grew up in into your work?
I think many elements and inspiration get incorporated subconsciously, like picking up your taste from those around you during your formative years. More explicitly, there’s a lot of anti-Chinese sentiment and xenophobia that’s come to a head in the past couple of years.
A big part of what we aim to do is dispel stereotypes, specifically for “Made in China”. While Japan is revered for its minimalist bent, China is known historically for its intricate detailing. While many appreciate, for example, traditional Japanese joinery, people often don’t realize that Japanese joinery is derived from Chinese joinery.
Similarly, plenty of famous Scandinavian mid-century chairs, like Hans Wegner’s ubiquitous wishbone chair, are explicitly derived from Chinese Ming dynasty designs. One of his earlier works was, in fact, named the China Chair and was pulled directly from a Ming Dynasty design.
Our goal is to showcase traditional Chinese woodworking techniques that have been built over generations and to show people the kind of quality craftsmanship that originated in China.
What does it mean to you to be AAPI in your industry?
There’s quite a strong community of Asian American creatives, which has been wonderful. In furniture and interiors, in particular, there are so many peers, which has been great to see.
As to the tough parts of being Chinese-American in this space, I’m too fearful to speak about them publicly, but they certainly loom large for me.
What’re your favorite furniture pieces in your own home?
A small side table my wife made using metal pipe, red zip ties, and braided plastic. There are rows of zip ties around the metal frame, with the tails of the zip ties left on, so they form a kind of red plastic frill along the perimeter. She wanted to cut the tails off and I got so upset. They’re still on, for now, at least.
What’s one thing you try to incorporate in every furniture piece you design?
It’s got to be practical. As much as I love the collectible design world for what it’s done for the community, I want my furniture to be durable, comfortable, and useful.
The backrest has to be comfortable, and the angle of the seat, no matter how much I want it to be completely flat, will always have a slight slope.
What furniture design trend are you tired of?
The trend ecosystem in furniture has become the same as in fashion: It operates at hyper speed, with the next trend cannibalizing the previous faster than ever. Content must be fresh to be relevant, and as a result, rewards those pushing the edge of visual culture, making trend cycles shorter and shorter.
The problem is that it’s impractical and distasteful to toss furniture seasonally. Do we really want fast furniture like we want fast fashion?
My goal is to produce work that speaks to contemporary visual culture, but maintains those key elements that enable a design to endure an endless run of trend cycles, timelessly: great materials, craftsmanship, simplicity of elements, and unique, satisfying proportions.
Where’s the best place you’ve ever been design-wise?
Though being online is different from being around physical people, spaces, and communities, it democratizes access to design in unparalleled ways.
You can see a designer’s whole brain, process, and inspirations laid out publicly, which you can’t even see in person.