Cover The Dune Collection, designed by Kenneth Cobonpue, was inspired by the Grand Canyon, celebrating its form
The Dune Collection, designed by Kenneth Cobonpue, was inspired by the Grand Canyon, celebrating its form
1 / 1
Resisting speed and spectacle, Kenneth Cobonpue’s designs engage material knowledge, ageing and environmental responsibility, consequently reframing how we inhabit exterior space in an era of ecological uncertainty
Kenneth Cobonpue’s work occupies a space between craft, climate and cultural practice, where furniture is understood as a framework for inhabitation. Emerging from tropical conditions and engaging a global design language, his work resists fixed interior-exterior distinctions, aligning itself instead with lived patterns shaped by weather, routine and social exchange. Furniture becomes a lens through which culturally embedded practices of sitting, gathering and resting are made visible.
Cobonpue’s practice is marked by a deliberate resistance to speed. Set against an industry shaped by immediacy and scale, his work returns attention to material knowledge, hand processes and the passage of time. Woven fibres and exposed construction permit furniture to bear the traces of use, weather and ageing, framing comfort not as an instant effect but as something that develops through sustained interaction between body, object and environment.
As environmental instability reshapes contemporary outdoor living, Cobonpue’s designs engage with questions of durability, responsibility and coexistence. Rather than isolating furniture from its surroundings, his work acknowledges climate, maintenance and eventual decay as design parameters. Outdoor furniture here is positioned less as an accessory to leisure than as a mediator between human activity and ecological conditions, prompting a reassessment of how design participates in longer systems of habitation and care.
More from Tatler: Home tour: a glimpse of sustainable tropical living in Batangas, Philippines
Above Designer Kenneth Cobonpue seated on the Dragnet chair
Designer Kenneth Cobonpue seated on the Dragnet chair
1 / 1
In cultures where the boundary between inside and outside has always been fluid, how should outdoor furniture be redefined beyond Western ideas of leisure?
Entertaining outdoors is having a major moment. What used to be a niche market is now a staple, with every big-name furniture brand vying for a spot on your terrace. The stiff, synthetic weaves of the past are giving way to the warmth of acrylic fibres and soft textiles. This evolution is only beginning. Moving forward, expect outdoor pieces to mirror indoor luxury so closely that you’ll have a hard time telling them apart.
What indigenous or vernacular seating traditions do you think modern outdoor design has forgotten, and what has been lost with their disappearance?
I see it differently: outdoor furniture is our bridge back to a primordial connection with the earth. We are reclaiming the outdoors as a place to rediscover ourselves—learning to swing, lounge and sleep under the open sky. It’s not just furniture; it’s a frontier where we reconnect with the wild.
How do unspoken cultural beliefs about rest, hospitality and hierarchy shape the way people sit outdoors today?
Weather is the ultimate architect of culture. While the West chases the light, soaking in every ray of sun when the season allows, people in Asia and the Middle East have historically sought sanctuary beneath covered roofs to escape the harshness of the meridian sun. It’s a global divide dictated by the thermometer. I would even go so far as to say that the entire culture of outdoor living is shaped by a single, inescapable force: the climate. Outdoor furniture often represents escape: resorts, vacations, idealised lifestyles.
Above The Russell Collection by Kenneth Cobonpue
The Russell Collection by Kenneth Cobonpue
1 / 1
Above The Yoda easy chairs designed by Kenneth Cobonpue
Above The Cabaret lounge chair in plum designed by Kenneth Cobonpue
The Yoda easy chairs designed by Kenneth Cobonpue
1 / 2
What does this fixation reveal about contemporary relationships with work, climate and privilege?
Home, office and garden: the boundaries are gone. As digital nomads turn vacation spots into workspaces, the role of outdoor furniture has evolved. It’s no longer just about “patio decor”, it’s about supporting every human function, whether it’s the grind of the workday or the freedom of the weekend.
How do you design for the passage of time, weathering, decay, and repair, without allowing ageing to be perceived as failure?
Ageing is only perceived as failure when an object becomes useless. If a part breaks on a piece of furniture and it can’t be fixed, the whole piece is trash. This is the ultimate design paradox: creating something that is built to last forever, yet designed to disappear. These pieces must be composed of materials that can eventually biodegrade. We design for a century of use, but ensure that when the time finally comes, the object returns to the earth as a nutrient, not a pollutant.
In your practice, how do you balance the slow intelligence of handcraft with the fast demands of global production and consumption?
I do not view handcraft and global production as adversaries, but as essential partners. In my practice, we utilise digital precision to set the “bones’ of a piece”: the structural engineering and frames that ensure longevity. We then reserve the human touch for the “skin”: the intricate weaving, the refined finishing and the artisanal joinery that give a piece its soul. Sustainability is frequently reduced to materials.
In case you missed it: Home tour: a renovated family home in Trichy, India celebrating the use of natural textures
Above The Lolah Collection designed by Kenneth Cobonpue is bent rattan at its finest, visually light material juxtaposed with volumnious form
The Lolah Collection designed by Kenneth Cobonpue is bent rattan at its finest, visually light material juxtaposed with volumnious form
1 / 1
How do you think about sustainability in terms of ritual, longevity of use and emotional attachment?
In my design school, a professor once posed a riddle: How can a Louis Vuitton bag, made primarily of PVC, be considered sustainable? The answer was simple yet profound: No one ever throws it away. This changed my entire perspective on design. It taught me that the truest form of sustainability isn’t just about material purity, it’s about creating something so deeply valued that it is treasured forever.
As climate instability intensifies, should outdoor furniture become more permanent, more nomadic, or deliberately temporary?
I suspect the future lies in a hybrid model. As I earlier stated, the distinction between home and office is gone. If our lives are no longer anchored to a single desk, our furniture shouldn’t be anchored to a single patio. We need the “slow intelligence” of a handcrafted skin that makes us feel human, but it must be wrapped around “bones” that are light enough to move when the weather turns. We aren’t building monuments anymore; we are building gear for a new way of existing.
Above The Matilda easy armchair designed by Kenneth Cobonpue
The Matilda easy armchair designed by Kenneth Cobonpue
1 / 1
How might outdoor furniture shift from being an object of comfort to a mediator between humans, climate and nonhuman life?
To transition outdoor furniture from a static object to a mediator, we must stop designing for the human in isolation and start designing for the human in an ecosystem. The true power of outdoor furniture lies in its ability to act as a social catalyst. It isn’t just about where we sit; it’s about how the arrangement of those pieces dictates the energy of our human interactions. I measure the furniture I design by the memories it creates. A chair is just an object until it becomes the place where a friendship was solidified, or a family meal was shared under the stars.
If future archaeologists encountered today’s outdoor furniture, what cultural values would you hope it reveals about how we lived with the planet?
If future archaeologists were to unearth our furniture, I would hope they wouldn’t find a “strata of plastic”, the indestructible but discarded relics of a disposable age. Instead, I would hope that the remains tell a story of respect for our planet and a deep connection with one another.
NOW READ
Home tour: a sprawling family home in the heart of Los Angeles, California
Staying power: take a look at this month’s exquisite furniture picks
Selective simplicity: a glimpse into the home of Julia Montes
