This page features a collection of short stories and personal writings by Antonio Larosa, together with selected articles exploring his design philosophy, offering readers a deeper look into his creative world. Enjoy.
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A Tiny Story About A Great Architect
In the year 2000, I found myself seated in Philip Johnson’s small, minimalistic personal office at the Seagram Building in New York, the very masterpiece he collaborated on with Mies Van De Rohe. Engaged in a conversation about furniture design over chilled Frappuccinos, I ventured to ask him, “Why not design furniture for some Italian companies?”. Johnson, wearing a surprised smile, responded, “I don’t know why you’re asking me.”
“Well, considering your status as the godfather of modern American architecture, I believe you could excel in designing furniture.” I said.
Still smiling, he replied, “Look, I’m not good at designing furniture, but if you’re truly seeking an architect to design some furniture, don’t ask me. You should ask the architect I admire the most. I believe he would be the right person to design some very interesting furniture.” Taken aback by the response, I asked, “Who’s this person?” He answered, “Well, his name is Frank Gehry. I love his work, so you should talk to him.” I couldn’t help but laugh, exclaiming, “Wait a minute! I’m discussing furniture design with the most important architect on the planet, and you’re suggesting I talk to Gehry? Ha!” Johnson’s humility left a lasting impression, commemorated by a beautiful book about his life and work that he graciously signed for me …a cherished memento to this day.
Philip Johnson was one of the most influential architects of the 20th century. Born in 1906 in Cleveland, he helped introduce modern architecture to the United States and later became a major figure in both International Style modernism and Postmodern architecture. Architects and historians generally attribute around 40 to 50 major skyscrapers worldwide to Johnson and his collaborators. Among his most notable works are the Seagram Building, designed in collaboration with Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, as well as Postmodern icons such as PPG Place and the famous 550 Madison Avenue — formerly the AT&T Building — known for its distinctive “Chippendale” top
Antonio Larosa
In a world driven by noise, design still speaks to the soul.
From Kennedy to Trump and beyond, my work has always stood above politics.
Years ago, a New York businessman selected my furniture for a television show filmed inside his most recognizable landmarks. That businessman was Donald Trump, the show was The Apprentice on NBC, and the setting was Trump Tower in New York City.
Years later, the Kennedy family entrusted me with a historic honor: provide a design for the Summer White House of President John F. Kennedy in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts.
Throughout my career, I have worked with people across every divide, different beliefs, different backgrounds, opposing ideologies. The work remained neutral. The standards never changed. Of course, I have my own political views, as everyone does. But I have never used my work, my clients, or my audience to promote them. art is not a tool for persuasion or indoctrination. I have always believed that design exists to rise above division, not to serve it. I still believe in its power to unify, to endure, and to speak a language stronger than politics.
Antonio Larosa
Design Education Critique: Less Tools, More Brains.
By Antonio Larosa.
(Article previously published by Contract magazine in 2011).
Several years ago, I received a phone call from a representative at a Chinese university, inquiring about my interest in relocating to China to teach and lead a design department. Surprised by the unexpected call, I sought more information by posing questions about the state of design education in China and the reason behind their interest in me. In response to my first question, the representative candidly explained, “You’re likely aware that if you handed any object to a manufacturing company in China, they could reproduce it precisely. The challenge lies in the lack of design skills within Chinese companies to create their own designs.” This insightful observation resonated with my existing thoughts on the matter.
Addressing my second question, the representative acknowledged the necessity for an individual with a comprehensive understanding of design thinking from both European (where I had pursued my studies) and American (where I was presently working) perspectives. This recognition of my diverse experience was not only flattering but also presented an enticing opportunity. I was on the verge of accepting this proposition when a concurrent offer to oversee a design department at a prominent university in Georgia diverted my decision, ultimately leading me to choose the latter opportunity.
During my tenure as a professor and Chair of a Furniture Design Department and Eshibition Design Program, over the course of three years, I frequently reflect upon a meaningful conversation I had with a Chinese colleague. Our discussion centered around the importance of imparting students with not only the requisite design thinking but also equipping them with the essential design skills and knowledge. This challenge captivated my interest not only when I commenced teaching in Georgia but also during my prior position at a prominent state university in the Southwest. I observed a distinctive emphasis on a “shop-oriented” approach in design schools across the United States, a departure from the prevailing methodology in many European universities. In my own educational experience in Italy, students focused less on physically crafting products in workshops and more on engaging in studio-based courses that emphasized process contemplation and explored the design philosophies underpinning creative endeavors.
My aspiration was to guide students away from a sole reliance on tools and equipment, offering them a unique knowledge base rooted in design thinking. This involved immersive experiences in studio-based classes, collaboration with manufacturers and design offices, exposure through travel, and more. Essentially, it served as a test, providing students with a distinctive real-life experience and thought process crucial for their evolution into professional designers rather than being limited to crafting one-of-a-kind products.
After just one year, the positive impact of this approach was evident in the remarkable improvement seen in both the student body and the department. By the end of my three-year tenure, the furniture design department I led had not only become the largest but also garnered widespread respect both within the United States and internationally.
I firmly advocate for the presence of knowledgeable and passionate instructors who can instill the right motivation in their students, a motivation crucial for success. The transmission of design passion, akin to the mentorship I received during my own academic journey, is indispensable for shaping a future generation of adept designers. Technical knowledge alone is insufficient; a genuine love for one’s work is essential to effect meaningful change in our society. The emerging cadre of designers has the potential to be a driving force in shaping both our culture and economy.
Furthermore, fostering collaboration between design students and their counterparts in other departments, such as business, engineering, and social science, is paramount. This interdisciplinary exposure is the key to addressing contemporary environmental needs and social issues effectively. Our design education programs attract some of the brightest and most talented students; it is incumbent upon us to guide them towards a future that betters society.
Drawing parallels with the perspective of the woman from the Chinese university who emphasized that design thinking, not just tools, is the essential ingredient for a country’s future economic growth, I assert that this approach is a sensible course for design schools. By prioritizing design thinking, we can tackle the challenges confronting design education today and pave the way for innovative solutions.
Antonio Larosa
(Article previously published by Contract magazine in 2011)
A Tiny Story About A Great Architect/Designer
One day, the Maestro Castiglioni observed me painstakingly drawings intricate details with an ink pen on a large sheet of paper. He halted and inquired, “What are you working on?” I responded, “I’m honing my skills, adding all the necessary details for this product.” He smiled and advised, “You must channel your time into nurturing creativity, generating new ideas, rather than practicing technical drawing. Anyone can learn to draw or make things, but few grasp the significance of design thinking in our craft. Leave behind these drawings, grab a notebook, jot down your ideas, and sketch freely." After so many years, those words still echo in my head.
Achille Castiglioni was one of the most influential designers of the 20th century, celebrated for transforming everyday objects into intelligent, playful, and timeless designs. Born in Milan in 1918, he became a central figure in postwar Italian design and helped define what people now think of as modern Italian industrial design.
Today, his influence can still be seen across furniture, interiors, product design, and architecture. Many contemporary minimalist designers borrow from his principles: functional honesty, intelligent use of materials, irony and wit, reduction without coldness, designing around human behavior rather than trends.
Antonio Larosa
Design is dead. Long live design!
Years ago, during the NeoCon show in Chicago, after setting up the second edition of the Furniture Revolution Gallery, I went downstairs to the floors where all the big brands have their permanent showrooms to invite some executives to come upstairs and see the Gallery.
Later that day, two executives from a historic American furniture company stopped by to look at the work of the young designers. Afterward, I thanked them for coming, and one of them asked me, with a big corporate smile, “So, what’s the point of all this?” I told them the Gallery was created to show companies like theirs that maybe it was time to start looking for new designers and new ideas.
Then one of them said, “Well, you do know who we are, right?”
And I replied, “Of course. You’re two top executives working for a major American company that still survives thanks to furniture designed over sixty years ago by designers who are all dead now.”
The smiles disappeared instantly ...a few seconds later they suddenly had to “get back to their showroom.”
Years later, that company was acquired by another company… also famous for selling designs created over sixty years ago by designers who are all dead now.
There was a time when American furniture design was fearless, creative, and willing to take risks. Companies believed in new talent and new ideas. Today, too many brands feel more like museums selling reprints of the past because they no longer know how to create the future.
Design is dead. Long live design!
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The Furniture Revolution Gallery, created and curated by Antonio Larosa, was an initiative showcasing innovative, student-designed pieces to industry leaders at NeoCon. The gallery focuses on bridging the gap between new talents and commercial manufacturers.
Purpose: To give student designers a platform at the world's leading commercial design event.
Origin: The concept emerged to address the need for fresh, design-driven innovation in the US furniture market, often highlighting prototypes from young designers.
Showcase Items: The gallery has previously featured unique, conceptual furniture, including chairs, tables, and lighting.
Impact: It serves as a unique opportunity for attendees to spot new talent and potential, providing students with exposure to major industry players
Antonio Larosa
Teaching emphasizing collaboration and hands-on projects
For over 25 years, alongside my design practice, I have dedicated much of my time to teaching design at both public and private universities. My teaching philosophy has always emphasized collaboration and hands-on projects, with the goal of preparing students for the realities of professional design practice.
Through my personal connections with some of the leading figures in design, I was often able to organize visits to the studios of major 20th-century designers, giving students direct insight into the contemporary design world. One designer who was particularly generous with his time was Alessandro Mendini—one of the most influential designers of the 20th and 21st centuries, but also a remarkable human being. He was always available for conversation, finding moments between his international travels, museum lectures, and factory visits to explore the latest coffee machines, chairs, or architectural projects. Designers like him are rare today.
I still keep in my studio the Anna G. corkscrew he signed for me, a small but meaningful reminder that designers can be kind, open, and generous, far from the arrogance that is sometimes associated with the profession today.
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Alessandro Mendini was an influential Italian architect, designer, and theorist whose work helped redefine the language of design in the late 20th century. Known for his playful, colorful, and often ironic approach, he challenged the strict functionalism of modernism by reintroducing emotion, decoration, and narrative into everyday objects and architecture.
Closely connected with the radical design movements of Studio Alchimia and later influencing the Memphis Group, Mendini created iconic furniture, objects, and interiors that blurred the line between art and design. His work—such as reimagined classic forms and vibrant, patterned surfaces—became emblematic of postmodernism’s rejection of uniformity.
Across both the 20th and 21st centuries, Mendini’s importance lies in how he expanded design beyond pure function, making it a cultural and expressive medium that continues to influence contemporary architecture, product design, and visual culture.
Antonio Larosa
Interview with Antonio Larosa, published in Fast Company (September 2009)
Eames Molded Plywood Chairs
Thonet No. 14
Millefiori Collection by Antonio Larosa
Proud Moment in Milan: Best International Design Program
A Tiny Story About A Great Architect/Designer
Years ago, I had the great privilege of meeting maestro Michael Graves once again. He was an architect and designer responsible for many significant buildings, furniture pieces, and accessory collections. Although I was never particularly drawn to his stylistic approach, respected his vision, talent, and contribution to design.
This time, however, he was in a wheelchair after suffering a severe spinal cord infection. As always, our conversation revolved around design, but this meeting was different. He spoke with regret about not having paid enough attention throughout his career to design features that could better support people with disabilities, a cause he said he would dedicate the rest of his life to advocating for.
He reflected on how often designers fail to consider people with disabilities, the elderly, or even those recovering from temporary injuries during the design process. That part of our conversation stayed with me. I have never forgotten it, and since that meeting, it has influenced the way I approach every project I work on.
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Michael Graves was a key figure in Postmodern architecture. He moved away from the plain, strict style of Modernism and instead used color, decoration, and references to history in his work. His buildings often mix classical features like columns and arches with simple, bold shapes and playful details, making them both eye-catching and easy to understand.
In addition to architecture, Graves brought Postmodern design into everyday life through furniture and household products. His work for companies like Alessi produced iconic objects such as the whistling kettle with a bird-shaped spout, blending utility with whimsical character. He also designed widely distributed home goods, including products for mass-market retailers, helping make design more approachable and widely accessible beyond high-end architecture.
Antonio Larosa
The World is a Big Refrigerator, Let’s Learn to Use the Leftovers
By Antonio Larosa - (Previously published by Krrb in 2010).
Recently, I was invited to speak at a conference about sustainable design. I was planning to talk about designs that improve our quality of life, but instead, at the last minute, I decided to prepare something that would more effectively illustrate my philosophy that “green is good, but common sense is a lot better.” Of course, I respect LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) and other similar organizations, but I believe designers should do more than just belong to associations. They should use common sense when they design something.
My talk began with a vision I’ve had for years: the world as a big refrigerator, full of leftovers. One of my passions is cooking so I began with a cooking lesson. People stared at me like I was at the wrong conference. I explained that for me, the best part of cooking is opening my fridge and using the scraps. I tell this story because I believe that designers should think in a similar fashion. As designers, we should be able to take whatever is in this “fridge” and create designs using those existing scraps. We have plenty of material to use, but we lack a cohesive system to organize those pieces.
While talking, I started giving some examples to build credibility to this theory. The first was a project I had undertaken with my college students. I convinced a large hotel company to come to us and asked for new furniture designs for one of their chains. Our proposal was to take the existing furniture and modify it rather than starting all over. We took the existing pieces and tweaked them to fit their new design scheme. Some of the wood used for the changes came from taking apart and rebuilding the existing furniture using the same material. We modified the furniture legs, transformed armoires so they could hold large, flat-paneled TVs, replaced existing hardware, cut where necessary and, in less than two days, were able to save about 140,000 pieces of furniture by reusing what was already there.
I then shared a collection of furniture I designed about 10 years ago for an Italian company. The idea sprouted from walking around factories that made leather bags and shoes. Rather than have the masses of scraps sent to landfills, I used these “leftovers” to make a new line of furniture accessories. The main design in the collection is a flower, and the flower is not purely decorative but suggests that you can recycle even the smallest piece of leather into a new design (images above).
This goes to show that the simple concept of looking around and reusing whatever we have—our leftovers—is working to some extent. However, what isn’t working is the system itself. Every city and county should work to create smaller, local “refrigerators” and fill them up with scraps from construction sites, manufacturing facilities and other remains from the detritus of modern life that can be repurposed to make new designs. Instead of throwing away these remnants these should feed into a shared store.
But it’s not just the design world we need to convince. We should encourage every level of government to think along these lines and then perhaps this theory of living in a large refrigerator will no longer be just a theory. Just like the two examples I gave, we can design products using solely recycled materials.
As a small child I remember my grandmother would save every glass jar and cardboard box and reuse these materials for everything. I was struck by this and learned that what she was doing wasn’t about being “green” or being a part of a fancy association but rather doing what designers and governments should be doing every day: using common sense!
Antonio Larosa - (Previously published by Krrb in 2010).
The LA Dodgers Love Larosa Antonio
Growing up in Italy, I must confess that I knew absolutely nothing about baseball. Even now, I still don’t fully understand the game ...but recently, I found myself falling in love with a team. And no, it’s not the Arizona team where I live now, but one from Los Angeles: the Los Angeles Dodgers.
When the Dodgers come knocking for your designs, it’s a true testament to your talent and vision. It’s incredibly rewarding to know that your work is not only appreciated, but also plays a role in enhancing the fan experience at one of the most iconic stadiums in the world.
One of my outdoor collections was selected for the stadium’s outdoor areas not only for its comfort and design, but also for its durability, an essential quality in such high-traffic spaces filled with passionate fans.
Contributing to the comfort and enjoyment of Dodgers fans is something I’m genuinely proud of. It feels like a win for the team, the fans, and for me as a designer.
Larosa Antonio
Aim High, Not Low. How I Landed My First Job in Design
Milan, Italy, late 80s. I had just started studying architecture at the Polytechnic University of Milan. The school was great, famous architects and designers were teaching classes, giving workshops, and sharing ideas that felt bigger than life. But I wanted more than lessons inside university walls. I wanted to see the real design world up close.
I also needed money, so I thought: why not try to find a job in design while I study? Learn the trade before graduation and get a head start on the future. Back then there was no Google, no internet, no personal computers. So I grabbed the old-fashioned phone book and started searching for design firms in Milan. At first, I made a list of big, unknown companies because I thought getting hired there would be easier.
Then I started walking around the city, knocking on doors. Literally knocking on doors. Every day I would ride the metro, walk through different neighborhoods, climb staircases, ring bells, and wait for someone to open the door and magically offer a completely inexperienced student a design job.
Weeks passed ...nothing. Slowly I realized the truth: no company wanted to spend time teaching a freshman who knew almost nothing about design or drafting yet. So I stopped for a few days and changed my strategy completely. Instead of chasing random big firms, I asked myself:
“If I could work anywhere in the world, where would I really want to be?”
The answer came immediately: Sawaya & Moroni Architects.
At the time, the company was one of the most exciting design studios in Europe. Every month their work appeared in major architecture and design magazines. They were bold, creative, different …always ahead of the curve. So I made a brand-new list. This time, only my favorite design firms. Sawaya & Moroni was at the very top.
The next morning I jumped on the metro and got off at Piazza Missori, just a short walk from the magnificent Duomo Cathedral and the old Renaissance castle once home to the powerful Sforza and Visconti families. I still remember that moment like it happened yesterday.
I walked up to the building, knocked on the door, and a gentleman opened it. He asked who I was and why I was there. Then I realized he was William Sawaya himself , the head designer and one of the owners of the company. I instantly became nervous.
I told him I was an architecture student looking for a design job. He looked surprised, probably wondering why this random kid had appeared at his door. Trying to be polite, he asked if I had a portfolio or samples of my work.
“No,” I answered.
Then he asked about my drafting and design skills. I told him the truth: “I’m a freshman. I have zero experience.”
He smiled. “So,” he said, “you came here looking for a job with no experience at all? You do know where you are, right?” At that moment I was ready to disappear from embarrassment. But instead of running away, I decided to be completely honest.
I said: “Of course I know where I am. And yes, I know I have no experience. But this is my favorite design firm in the world. If I’m going to learn design somewhere, this is the only place I want to be.”
Then came silence ...a long silence. I was sure another door was about to close in my face. Instead, after a few seconds, he smiled and said:
“Okay then. See you tomorrow morning at 9:00 sharp.” And that’s how I got my first job in design.
The next day I walked into the studio and met my new coworkers: two Japanese women, one German designer, one American woman… and me, the only Italian there. Even the boss, William, was from Lebanon.
For a young student from Milan, it felt like stepping into the whole world at once.
Antonio Larosa
Designers Against the iPodization of Society
By Antonio Larosa.
(Article previously published by Contract magazine in 2007).
I realized early in life, long before I went to design school, the importance that design has in people’s lives. Designing original greeting cards for friends in middle school was my way to lift other kids’ spirits. Designing places to sit, eat, and sleep away from cold and muddy campgrounds as a scout was a fun challenge to keep us campers happy. Designing a new puppet theater for a town that had been completely destroyed by an earthquake helped to cheer up the town’s children. All these actions had something in common other than simply making people happy: They were increasing interpersonal communication. Somehow, I had the feeling that one day I was going to be in the “making-people-cheerful-with-my-ideas” business, but I did not know yet that the profession was called “design.”
A few years ago on a business trip to New York, I took a taxi to the airport and other than to ask my destination and tell me the fare, the driver did not say one word to me. At the airport many people seated at the gates stared blank-faced at the giant flat-screen television, while others were absorbed watching movies on their portable DVD players. Many were talking on cell phones; some worked on laptops or busied themselves with PDAs. And others were occupied tuning out everyone with their iPods.
Oh well, I thought, I have a five-hour flight and someone on the plane will want to have a conversation about life, work, or current affairs. Unfortunately, I was dead wrong. Some designer had the brilliant idea to equip every seat on the plane with an individual TV offering a selection of 30 channels. There was no need for conversation during the flight either. As I checked into my hotel, I realized that I had spent nearly the entire day being around thousands of people, yet the only human interaction I had was a few words spoken to a half-attentive person. I became seriously concerned about the future of our society. People are so focused on global warming, recycling, and terrorism, but they do not realize there is another fundamental human need being threatened here. We are losing basic interpersonal communication skills. People are so busy gabbing on their cells, texting, or popping into Web chat rooms that we are losing the ability or desire to say a few words to the person standing next to us. Many are fine with talking to strangers over the Internet, yet the thought of speaking to someone in person turns them mute.
I wondered what caused people to not want to interact any longer. Initially, I blamed this trend on the high-tech gadgets that keep us so screen-focused. Then, I realized that even before the hand-held electronic era, personal interactions were already being derailed by bad designs of public spaces and furniture. Some designers create gadgets to help us avoid talking to each other. Others design buildings and cities that keep us from interacting by eliminating or minimizing public spaces. Even the interiors of cars and planes now maximize our own personal comforts, thus helping us to avoid interacting with other human beings.
I realized that designers can be blamed for the lack of relationships between people and for the lack of communication in society in general. Designers are failing to do what design is all about: We should strive to make people happy and comfortable in their environments, yes. But we also must take care that if the level of comfort is reached only by isolating people from one another, the interaction element that is so essential to keeping us human is suffering. And it’s a shame.
Perhaps my theory is flawed, but I am certain that designers can make the world a better place. I definitely believe designers can help reverse the “my space” trend by designing better public spaces and furniture that foster relationships instead isolation. Good design can encourage people to want to interact. I hope more designers are going to follow this direction.
Think of the buildings designed by Rem Koolhaas or Frank Gehry: They have a power over people. Like giant magnets, these structures attract people to come closer, investigate, and talk about what they see. Once I was standing by Gehry’s Experience Music Project building in Seattle, and a stranger next to me smiled and said, “I don’t know what it’s all about, but this stuff [the building] it’s almost better than rock ‘n’ roll.” There we were, two strangers striking up a conversation over a building. I thought it was wonderful, and I started hoping that one day good design might just bring people back together again just like rock ‘n’ roll did 60 years ago.
Antonio Larosa - 2007
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