There is a strangely alluring quality to Korean designer Jaeho Lee’s work. Eschewing minimalist or purely functional interpretations, his studio, Undress House, revels in the possibilities that lurk beneath the surfaces of what we consider ‘normal’. The designer, fuelled by an innate curiosity for the extra-ordinary and a “love for making things”, as he tells STIR, sees furniture design as a medium for experimentation—a fertile space for both tension and harmony, irony and surprise.

“It holds both presence and use, making it an ideal medium for reflecting on identity and human experience,” the product designer elaborates. Some of Lee’s latest works—unconventional chair designs, sleek tables and gothic-seeming paraphernalia—make these very contradictions palpable. Peeling back the layers of what seems banal or otherwise unremarkable, the furniture designer hopes to reveal what can be playful about the objects we interact with every day. “It’s not just about bareness or exposure, but about removing fixed definitions—getting closer to the raw, unresolved state of things,” he states.

If a feeling of transcendence is evident in the limbo between function and form, this is what Lee’s product designs are in pursuit of. As he continues, “I’m interested in that in-between space, where meaning hasn’t solidified, and where complexity resists a single truth.” On the surface, the furniture conceptualised by Lee might appear extravagant, a bit loud, provocative in its use of religious symbolism (or even tacky?) But is this campness, a seemingly poor judgment in taste, necessarily inappropriate? As Susan Sontag argues, the sensibility for camp offers a more sensuous approach to art, one that doesn’t take itself seriously. This attitude seems to be reflected in Lee’s designs as well, transcending mere taste.

As the South Korea-based designer explains, the contradiction between a diminutive tastefulness and an otherwise whimsical aura is what brings his designs alive. Contradiction becomes a process with which to begin designing, he notes. There is a distinct delineation in the perception of an object as opposed to the relevance it holds. The Fur Low Table (2023), for instance, is defined by a sleek, brushed metal top. The cold metal conceals an unlikely secret—a warm, fur-lined bottom; the sharpness of the stainless steel offset by the soft fur invites engagement, as Lee hopes. A certain ironic sentiment is conveyed by his design for Linked Chair (2025) as well. Its structure resembles several chairs linked together, to portray the complexities of human relationships, how they are liberating and confining at the same time.

His 休 Chair (How to Rest) (2025) transforms a Tesla chair into something implausible. Reimagining a Tesla’s driver seat as a rocking chair—a piece of furniture that is a rare presence in daily life, Lee believes—with handcrafted wooden elements, the design questions how we consider rest today. Even rest means a constant state of motion, with slow, deliberate pauses no longer aligning with the pace of modern life. A similar attempt at subverting expectations is evident in Violin Hanger (2025), which turns a musical instrument into a utilitarian object for the home.

Something between purposeful design and imaginative play, then, is perhaps the best lens with which to consider Lee’s work. The artefacts that most strongly exemplify this, in fact, are the ones in which he plays with Christian symbolism. The most striking one, Chapel Bin (2025), employs the ornamentation of stained-glass windows as a reference to a childhood memory of going to confession. To Lee, the work is meant to reflect on the essence and relevance of the acts that accompany houses of worship. “I’ve always been drawn to the atmosphere of religious spaces and the silent sense of sacredness that certain objects or rituals carry,” Lee states.

Echoing this, the stool design Peace after Burn (2025) is meant to embody a feeling of serenity that the designer experiences after the diminishing of ceremonial flames. On the other hand, the Sanctus Table (2024) was inspired by the designer’s experience of religious architecture—the reverence of these spaces and an unignorable silence. “It wasn’t about reinterpreting these symbols, but about holding onto that impression and trying to give it form,” Lee continues.

Lee’s work is defined by this earnest tension, offering an expanding perspective of how design can be conceived. In an increasingly pervasive digital age, the definitions of what we categorise as conventional are constantly in flux. Hence, how we interact with the world and with the objects that enable this dialogue, is critical. Design should invite contradiction and complexity, allowing for reflection. As Lee says, “We live in a time surrounded by overwhelming information and algorithmic logic. In such a world, questioning the things we consider ‘normal’ becomes even more essential.”