Kim Mupangilaï featuring the Maide Chair

My name is Kim Mupangilaï and I have a master's in Interior Architecture and I also studied graphic design. In 2020 I started designing furniture and I'm also a professor at Parsons School of Design.

Crown Heights, Brooklyn

I live with my partner in an apartment in a brownstone (I looked at 25 apartments before I found this one).

New York City because of the diversity. It's such a melting pot here. And there's a sense of belonging–no matter where you come from or what you look like, there is no "one of." It is all of us. The sense of finally feeling like I belong was the start of me daring to dig into my identity through the lens of furniture. New York City started that, prompted that.

Thaddeus Mosley. He is 96 and just had an exhibition with Karma in the city. It's an incredible story. He's a sculptor who worked for the USPS his entire life. When he would come home from the post office, he would go down in his basement and start sculpting. He is so skilled and so in touch with his African heritage. Phenomenal–a huge inspiration.

I have a necklace from my mom and a pearl from my grandmother that I put together so it's one. I consider it an heirloom from my two most favorite women in the world.

It adds layers. Narrative is at the core of my work. Even if someone else is helping you build that narrative and the physical design, they're adding to that story by shaping it, touching it, putting their passion into sculpting the wood. Obviously technology can be amazing, but we are sometimes losing touch with the physical, where we put our heart and soul in. I think it's important to preserve that.

I made a chair with my Belgian grandfather, and an art installation which was really nice. He was a jack of all trades, had a little shop and taught me a lot of things–wood turning, bending wood, making kinetic sculptures. He said he'd help me but only he taught me and then I would do it myself.

I cook food every night, I barely eat out. I never order in. I'm raised that way. I also make sourdough. It's a three-day process but it's worth it. You see something emerge from nothing–dust becomes a beautiful, crusty brown loaf and it's yummy.

Good things take time, like...making sourdough from scratch. Or making a furniture collection, which took me three years. If you really want to create your narrative or your way of designing, you need to give it time to form and shape. Like a bread!

I don't have office chairs–we have a table where we work but the chairs were gross outdoor chairs. These were perfect. I like to sit at a desk like I'm sitting at a couch, and the Maide seat is wider than I expected, so I can sit with my legs crossed.

I always love the little hints of the past in a way that feels very new and fresh. I feel that with these chairs. And they fit perfectly with what I already have in the apartment.

I wanted a console because my kitchen was missing something and the table blended with the interior. But the console was half an inch too large, so I looked at the chairs.

I feel like they come across as conventional and not obvious in an interior. But when you look closer, they make a statement. They have a boldness to them, despite being one material. "I'm comfortable, I blend in, but I am also a statement and bold." That's the attitude I'm feeling when I look at them.

Naming is a tool to guide me when people ask, "Oh, tell us about your work or tell us about this piece." It is literally a tool for me, a part of the alphabet when I am designing. I always want the name to reference the piece, in some capacity. In general, narrative has always been super important in my work.

The title Hue am I/Hue I am reflects the layered complexity and ambiguity of both my identity and my work, serving as a cross-cultural self-portrait.

Hue represents a spectrum of colors and shades, symbolizing the layers of my heritage and the nuances of cross-cultural dialogue that shape my design approach. Through ancestral storytelling, I explore a lineage that has defined both who I am and how I create. By merging African artifacts with Western design, each piece in this collection embodies that intricate blend–functional yet reflective, purpose-driven yet deeply personal, serving as an ongoing dialogue between these worlds.

That's an easy question because the materials are all specific to my heritage. I wanted to work with materials that are predominantly used in the Congo, or were referencing something really significant in the Congo. Teak wood is used for creating floors, boats, and furniture. Raffia is used for basket weaving and mats. And then we have banana fiber, which is a reference to a story my dad told me about my grandmother and how she would wrap food in banana leaves and cook fish wrapped in banana leaves. And the last material is volcanic rock, which is a reference to the rich minerals in the Congo.

I'm working on new designs and I also want to explore different materials and see if I can work on a smaller scale. I need to make work that's more accessible for people who can't, like myself, spend a ton on furniture. So I want to make it a little bit more accessible, but not commercial.

I've also always thought that design and fashion are friends. These days bigger brands are starting to collaborate with artists and makers and I think this is a great opportunity to add some extra layers to fashion pieces, more than just "What's the trend for this month." It would be fun to see where that goes–not designing clothes but perhaps the details and see where that can take me.

I'm not working on interior projects right now–I was so focused on the furniture–but I want to get back into that. It's important that people know that's my diploma and what I studied and it's still available.

I love cooking and making bread. I love and miss nature–I grew up in a tiny little village with cows in fields–so whenever I can, I love walking, preferably towards the park with music in my ears or a podcast. It's very cliché, but it is so soul-soothing and it nurtures me. I love a good workout. That is also very good for the brain. I wish I was a musician. I love music. I love to travel whenever I can. I love to visit museums and galleries. And go upstate. I love that. Absolutely. I would live there if I could. Do you know how many people moved upstate since 2020? It's crazy.

I would choose to be a candlestick holder. This choice stems from my desire to continuously set the mood and ambiance in a room. As a candlestick holder, I would host an array of candles, each bringing its own light and/or fragrance, transforming with every new candle that adorns me. Additionally, positioned at the center of gatherings, I would be privy to the myriad conversations that unfold around the table, absorbing stories and sharing in the warmth of human connection.