A Seat from an Unfound Time
This form emerged through parametric experimentation — not guided by ergonomics, but by the urge to dismantle rigidity in furniture design. Its geometry resists convention, offering something more speculative.
Refined in an artificial visual realm, the object appears less like furniture, and more like an artifact — as if it were retrieved from a science fiction universe. Reflective surfaces and atmospheric lighting enhance this ambiguity: not a future of machines, but a future that reimagines the intimacy between body and space.
The surrounding environment isn’t a backdrop, but a resonance.
Not ordinary furniture.
Not just a seat.
But a speculative object —
a fragment of a future still undefined in purpose,
yet already plausible.
Designing the Sunken City: A New Haven for Mythical Sea Creatures
A city, like any living organism, is born, it grows, and eventually, it fades. In this visualization, I imagined a world beyond the human era—a city no longer inhabited by people, but instead transformed into a new kind of life: a sunken metropolis redefined by mythical mermaids and fictional sea beings. As an architect, I wanted to explore what happens when architecture outlives its creators.
In this imagined future, water is no longer a threat—it becomes space itself. I envisioned how immersion transforms architecture, how flooded urban forms take on new meaning when inhabited by different species. The buildings, once symbols of human progress, now stand as quiet relics. Submerged yet solid, abandoned yet alive—now they serve as a new type of infrastructure, a canvas for other life to unfold.
The nighttime rendering suggests a sense of stillness and memory. The stars above and reflections below evoke both nostalgia and peace. Meanwhile, the daytime version reveals vitality: sea creatures roam freely among the ruins, animated by sunlight, shadow, and the new rhythms of an underwater world.
The purple-shuttered buildings are not just forms; they are remnants—sealed, unused, and recontextualized. Palm trees and cherry blossoms appear side by side, an intentional clash of climates that hints at a surreal, timeless landscape. The mermaids are not just decorative—they’re inhabitants, storytellers, witnesses to a world that once belonged to humans, and now breathes again through different beings.
As an architect, I believe design is not only about solving current needs but also about asking what if? This project is a speculative exploration, a rethinking of architecture not as static form, but as narrative space—spaces that evolve, that adapt, that outlast their original purpose.
This isn’t just a visual experiment—it’s a reflection on resilience, decay, and the potential of design to carry meaning even after its users are long gone. When the city dies, it doesn’t vanish. It transforms.