Suzy Annetta on The Value of Design
04.09.25

Essays is a compilation of musings that examine the broad yet impactful role design plays in contemporary life. Leading design writers, commentators and thinkers are invited to contribute an individual perspective – accepting or challenging the notion that design does or should embody greater “value” by drawing on personal experience, expertise and knowledge. Contributors are encouraged to explore design’s influence and application in domestic and commercial settings, across history, culture, politics, and its power to impact all aspects of life from small gestures of the everyday, to the future and sustainability of our planet.⁠

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Suzy Annetta is a Melbourne-born curator and the Founder & Publisher of Design Anthology – an independent design and architecture magazine with a strong international following. Based in Hong Kong for over 18 years, Suzy is a recognised authority on regional design who sits on advisory panels, judges international design awards, and contributes to books, interviews, television, podcasts, and live events, all while championing a refined, narrative-driven approach to showcasing the best of Asian and global design.

Portrait by Gavin Green.

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The Value of Design by Suzy Annetta

Do we really need another chair?

I often find myself asking this question. After more than a decade as the founding Editor-in-Chief of Design Anthology and as the curator of EMERGE (an initiative of the DesignSingapore Council), I’ve seen hundreds of new products, installations, and collections launched into the world. Some are clever, some are beautiful, some are even groundbreaking. But if I’m honest, I’ve sometimes wondered — do we really need another chair, another lamp, another coffee table?

And yet, I keep falling in love.

The ones that stay with me, that I can’t forget weeks or even years later, are never the purely functional ones. They’re the pieces that tell a story – objects that somehow carry with them a narrative, a sense of place, a glimpse into a designer’s mind or heart. Design, for me, has always been about more than just use or beauty. Its real value lies in its emotional resonance, in its ability to communicate, connect, and even educate.

I think of the first time I encountered the work of Trent Jansen. His objects are like physical folktales, each embedded with Australian history and culture, sometimes playful, sometimes confronting. Or Fernando Laposse, who transforms humble materials like corn husks and sisal into richly textured works that speak of environmental stewardship and traditional craft in his native Mexico. Formafantasma, too, come to mind — their work is an ongoing investigation into material, history, and ecology, where every object feels like a carefully considered argument about how we might live more responsibly in the future.

These are objects that ask you to slow down, to look closer, to listen.

Through my work in design publishing, I’ve had the privilege of meeting countless designers like these – people who see their practice as a form of storytelling. Covering their work in Design Anthology was never just about photographing a beautiful piece against a white backdrop. It was about uncovering the why behind it. Who made it? Why did they make it this way? What does it carry with it into the world?

I’ve come to realise that storytelling is not just what gives design emotional weight – it’s what gives design longevity. In a world drowning in stuff, the things that matter are the things that mean something. A chair that may recall a dream-like state, or a material experiment that reveals a possible sustainable future—that’s the kind of design people keep, cherish, and pass on.

There’s also something quietly radical about this. In the face of overproduction and overconsumption, storytelling in design asks us to pause and reflect. It reminds us that objects are not just things but vessels: of culture, of memory, of future possibility. A lamp can illuminate the story of a disappearing craft. A vase can tell you about a threatened ecosystem. A chair can speak softly of the world you hope to live in.

I suppose that’s why I keep doing what I do. Even when I’m tempted to roll my eyes at yet another press release for yet another furniture launch, I can’t help but open it, curious to see if there’s a story waiting for me. And when I find it—when an object reveals itself to be more than a sum of materials and functions—I feel that familiar spark. It’s the feeling of connection.

Design’s true value, I think, is in its ability to connect us: to each other, to our histories, to the environments we inhabit, and to the futures we want to imagine. It’s a bridge between the everyday and the extraordinary, between the tangible and the intangible. When it works, design isn’t just a reflection of its time — it’s a sign of what’s to come.

So yes, perhaps we do need another chair – if it’s a chair that tells a story.