Chairs Made from Car Airbags, Tent Fabric, and Discarded Blankets

Editor Dami Yoo | Photographer Cijin Kim

Jinyoung Yeon first drew attention as a furniture designer for chairs with distinctive forms. After moving through the field of art furniture, he is now establishing himself as an artist whose work focuses more closely on context and intent. Chairs and sofas still appear in his work, but they now serve as a format for carrying meaning and message. He combines this with a method of dismantling and reconstructing materials that have reached the end of their industrial life, such as car airbags, tent fabric, padding, and survival blankets. This approach runs consistently through his collaborations with fashion brands including Christian Dior, Nike, Kolon Sport, and Re;code. By adding folds, stains, and texture to materials on the verge of being thrown away, he shows through concrete work the conditions and contexts in which they can be used and seen anew.

This interview is featured in Issue 5 ‘Togo’.

Design elements are

closer to a way of telling a story. So when I make a sofa or a chair, I don’t put usability first. I let the function stay somewhat blurred. If the “form” of a sofa or chair is recognized before the message, I feel that what I want to say through the work as a whole doesn’t fully come across. When I prepare an exhibition, I don’t simply line up individual pieces. I plan the overall composition so that visitors experience it as if they were looking at a single scene. I’m also working on large-scale installations that focus less on the function of furniture and more on how furniture relates to space.

The main idea behind my work

starts from thinking about the passage from death to life. I compare discarded materials such as deadstock padding or tent fabric to a “state close to death,” in other words, a shell. The state moving toward life, by contrast, I describe as skin. I’ve developed my work around these concepts, and in my recent solo exhibition ‘Skinship’, I explored this idea through the relationship between skin and people.

I started making sofas

when I began working with padding. During the COVID-19 pandemic, I started making sofas from the large amounts of unsold padding left behind, and I felt that the coziness and comfort of padding suited the form of a sofa. Since then, sofas have become one of the main threads of my work. In my solo exhibition ‘Skinship’, I presented ‘Puffles Pupa’, a piece with a folded form that recalls a pupa. I chose this to evoke both the shell and the state that exists inside it. The piece can be used as a sofa, but I didn’t call it one. I intended it to be read as both a sofa and an installation.

The most memorable project is

my most recent one, ‘Folded Habitat’, which I did in the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ). Camp Greaves, located inside the DMZ, was once a US military base and now operates as a tourist site and multipurpose cultural space. It’s seen as a place that represents Koreanness, yet it also holds traces of a foreign army. That sense of place was an important background as I developed the work. For this project, I brought in US military tents that had actually been used and incorporated them into the installation structure. The theme was the cycle from death to life, and I hoped the history of the site and the material would come together naturally. I’d long wanted to exhibit in the DMZ, so it meant a great deal to me personally that this project made that wish come true.

The Hatchingroom project is

a large-scale installation created in collaboration with the Korean fashion brand Hatchingroom. Using deadstock fabric that was about to be thrown away, I created a comfortable, flexible lounge space. Inspired by the modular system of the Togo sofa, the project combines several units, and visitors can actually stay in it and use it. By pairing materials headed for disposal with a structure borrowed from the Togo, I built a space that starts from discarded materials and works as both furniture and installation.

Keywords that describe Jinyoung Yeon’s work

Death, life, and cycle.

The most surprising chair I’ve ever experienced is

the Togo. Because I often work with relatively large spaces, I’ve frequently drawn on the idea of the modular sofa. Whenever I wanted to bring a sense of comfort to a large space, the Togo naturally came to mind, and it has inspired me a lot. Its natural folds and modular structure play a significant role in my artistic world. I love many iconic chairs and sofas, but the Togo is a deeply meaningful model for me personally.

Want to dive deeper?

Issue.08 Togo

Designed by Michel Ducaroy in 1973, the Togo departs from the conventions of the traditional sofa. Its signature wrinkled surface, low seat resting directly on the floor, and all-foam construction offered a comfort and innovation on a different level from the sofa design of its day. Born of the 1960s and '70s, an era yearning for social and cultural change, the Togo reflected the zeitgeist—and its appeal remains just as strong today. Rediscovered through social media during the pandemic and embraced with explosive popularity, the Togo has become more than furniture: a cultural icon of free spirit and creative energy.

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