Pakphum (Nanu) Youttananukorn

"Design is not only a profession, it is a human activity you do to make your life better." For Pakphum (Nanu) Youttananukorn (ภาคภูมิ (นานุ) ยุทธนานุกร), this isn't just design philosophy – it’s also a business model that he applies to shaping his multi-faceted career. Since returning to Thailand after graduation from DAE’s Social Design MA in 2015, Nanu has co-founded a woodworking collective, set up an independent furniture studio, taught at Chulalongkorn University, and most recently, designed, built and opened his own pizzeria. 

Here, Lara Chapman, a writer, editor and curator, discusses with Nanu the diverse path he has carved, delving into the challenges of balancing creative freedom with financial stability. 

Lara Chapman: How did your perception of design shift when you moved back to Thailand? 

Pakphum Youttananukorn: In Thailand, it’s very rare to successfully get to the point where you can do as you wish as a designer or artist. It’s not like in the Netherlands or Denmark, where your tax is returned to society through things that promote the growth of art and design, like Stimuleringsfonds. Here, there’s a very limited budget for supporting designers, so design is a profession that is about providing a service to clients. This can take away a bit of the creativity and fun and, in general, there’s not much discourse around geopolitics, social design or the kinds of things we were taught and enjoyed at DAE. Still, I have tried to position myself to be as independent as possible, but this comes with a risk – if you aren’t successful, how can you continue? 

LC: Was design as a service something you were thinking about at DAE? 

PY: I don't think they teach that; there are so many more interesting things to think about in education. My BA in the UK was about learning skills, and then my Masters was when I started to learn about the implications of these skills and actions – how will your designs shape the world, users, other people? 

I teach on an international design BA here and we similarly encourage more experimental and conceptual thinking. The idea of design as a service is something I’ve picked up along the way as I’ve met new people and taken on responsibilities. Ultimately, it’s about the nuance of human relationships. 

LC: It’s interesting you mention design being about relationships. So often we think of the lone designer working in their studio, but collaboration and networks are so important. Was this something you were thinking about when you co-founded the woodworking collective Grains & Grams in 2020? 

PY: When I returned to Thailand, I was doing a lot of woodworking but doing it alone just wasn’t fun – I think you need the richness and diversity of others. I’d run into people doing similar things and started thinking we should all do something. So, I took on the role of organising, bringing people together. I’d write a brief and we’d do an exhibition. The last one was about two years ago, and we do them roughly biannually. 

LC: One of Grains & Gram’s projects is a series of stools made from found materials that were built in a kind of pass-the-parcel process between designers. Where did this playful, collective approach come from? 

PY: The title of the project and exhibition is 12 Camels. It came from a quote I heard at DAE which stuck with me – Alec Issigonis, the designer of the Mini Cooper, said: “A camel is a horse designed by a committee”. So, the stools were designed by a “committee" of three designers who contributed found objects which were distributed randomly, then constructed in stages by different people. They didn’t know who else was working on their stools. We had an exhibition and a gallery owner from Chiang Mai loved the concept; she kind of franchised it, using the brief as a model to work with Northern Thai makers. 

LC: What were you hoping to explore with this kind of “committee” style of making? 

PY: On a deeper level, the project explores circumstances – the idea that you don’t know what's going to happen to you in life. What if you are not dealt a good hand? What if you were born with a disability? What if you were born in Thailand, not the Netherlands, so you can’t apply for the Stimuleringsfonds? How can you make something good from a bad hand? It is about being human, because design is not only a profession, it is a human activity you do to make your life better.

What if you are not dealt a good hand? What if you were born with a disability? What if you were born in Thailand, not the Netherlands, so you can’t apply for the Stimuleringsfonds? How can you make something good from a bad hand?

LC: How do relationships also play a part in your own studio, Republic Nanu? 

PY: One project that comes to mind is Suspended Memory. Basically, I got to know the British ambassador when I was making furniture for an NGO his partner was involved in. He mentioned that the embassy was being demolished, suggesting I make a memento from the logs on the construction site. I split a log in half and made two benches. Although there was a certain prestige to this project because of the client, it was also deeply personal because I felt I was giving a gift to someone I know quite well – I like the sentimental notes. 

LC: Are you most drawn to sentimental projects? 

PY: Not necessarily, I like different projects for different reasons. 12 Camels, for instance, was more of an intellectual exercise, and other projects focus more on materials and making. Perhaps you can divide my projects into three categories: craftsmanship, sentimentality and intellectual ideas. 

LC: Can you speak about a project rooted in craftsmanship? 

PY: My Thakian Drawers & Cabinets are a good example of craftsmanship. They are crafted from reclaimed native teak, which is the iron of wood, it’s one of the hardest timbers in the world. I found a piece on the outskirts of Bangkok that had been hollowed out because it was once a drum used by monks in temples to tell the time. When I found it, I saw the cavity and knew I wanted to make a chest of drawers to compartmentalise and rationalise the wood into pockets of storage. 

LC: You seem very drawn to wood and its stories… 

Thailand isn’t a steel producer, so traditionally, everything was made out of the many varieties of tropical woods that grow here. Over time, timber has been replaced by concrete and other modern materials. I’ve become very affectionate towards the old wooden objects I find at antique and flea markets. Those objects act as a gateway to see what life was like. I want to make them relevant again. 

LC: Recently, you’ve designed, constructed and opened a pizza restaurant where you are the chef. How did that come about? 

PY: Initially, I started Maru Maru Pizza with my partner as a pop-up. People really liked it, but then we had to leave our premises. We spent a long time looking for a space. We put down a deposit and then had only three months to open, to make it financially viable. I had to design something that was quick and cheap to construct but still as nice as possible. It's the most challenging thing I've ever done… but it all came together and now we’ve been open four months! 

LC: Coming back to the idea of design as service, do you think of hospitality and design as connected? 

PY: Oh, for sure. If you set up a space where people sit down and have food, you are literally designing an experience. The pizzeria also means that I can have more freedom do the kind of design I want to do – it doesn’t just come automatically after graduation that you get to work on whatever you want, it takes a lot of work to get there. It’s nice to be at a point now where I can be my own client in the sense that my business can give me some peace of mind economically, so that, as a designer, I don’t have to say yes to everything.