Interview about Parawood Verso Wooden Wall Art, winner of the A' Decorative Items and Homeware Design Award 2025
Parawood Verso transforms reclaimed wood into artistic, three dimensional wall pieces using high-precision laser cutting. This process optimizes material use by repurposing positive and negative wood spaces, ensuring zero waste. The frameless design enhances the natural beauty of layered wood, creating depth and movement. More than decoration, it embodies sustainable design, turning waste into functional, elegant art. It can be displayed horizontally, vertically, or combined in different sizes for versatile wall compositions.
View detailed images, specifications, and award details on A' Design Award & Competition website.
View Design DetailsIn Parawood Verso, zero-waste is not a feature—it is the very structure of the design. The high-precision laser cutting technique plays a central role in turning this principle into practice by allowing me to treat both positive and negative spaces as equally intentional.Rather than generating waste through subtraction, each cut becomes a constructive act: what is removed from one piece becomes the seed of another. This approach requires designing the layout of parts not just as isolated forms but as interdependent geometries. The laser’s millimetric accuracy enables this synchronization—ensuring that the offcut of one panel fits perfectly into the next, visually and materially.This production logic demanded a deep alignment between form, function, and sustainability. It wasn't about using leftover pieces after the fact—it was about starting from them. That’s why I describe Parawood Verso as a self-completing system: each module emerges from the remnants of the other, closing the loop not just environmentally, but also narratively.The result is a layered, rhythmic composition where artistic integrity is not sacrificed for efficiency—instead, it is enhanced by it. The negative spaces aren’t voids; they are visual pauses, designed absences that allow the positive forms to breathe. Together, they form a sculptural dialogue—quiet, modular, and circular in every sense.
Nature doesn’t waste space—and neither does Parawood Verso. The inspiration drawn from leaf structures wasn’t merely visual; it was structural. Leaves are efficient systems: rhythmic, layered, and self-supporting. I was drawn to how their forms achieve strength through thinness, and complexity through subtle repetition. Translating this into design meant thinking in terms of systems rather than symbols.Instead of mimicking nature’s patterns decoratively, I aimed to embed their logic into the behavior of the material itself. The layered geometry—cut using high-precision laser techniques—echoes the branching flow of veins, where every line holds both a functional and aesthetic role. This enabled the design to remain lightweight yet expressive, modular yet fluid.The frameless construction was part of the same natural logic. In nature, forms evolve from within—not around an imposed boundary. By removing the frame, I allowed the piece to breathe with its environment rather than be confined by it. This openness enhances its perceptual depth—allowing light and shadow to interact more freely with the layered surfaces, which amplifies the three-dimensional effect in a subtle, immersive way.At the same time, it aligns with the sustainability goal: no added material, no artificial enclosure—just the piece as it is: rhythmically complete, quietly alive, and embedded in a larger system of spatial continuity and ecological thought.
One of the key challenges in developing Parawood Verso was to design a layered structure where each piece could interlock seamlessly with minimal material waste. Since the concept relied on using the offcuts from one panel to create another, the geometry had to be precisely calculated—down to the millimeter.This meant designing not just a single form, but a repeating logic—a system where subtraction from one layer would automatically construct the next. Getting that alignment right took time and experimentation. It wasn’t enough for the pieces to simply "fit"—they had to complete each other both visually and structurally.The resulting nested composition minimized waste while maximizing form continuity. And because the layers interlocked without gaps or external frames, the design gained unexpected structural stability. What began as a constraint around material use became a method for depth, rhythm, and resilience.
From the beginning, Parawood Verso was designed with a modular, frameless logic—structured enough to hold rhythm, yet open enough to adapt. The geometry was carefully balanced to work as a single statement or as part of a larger configuration. While I initially envisioned the panels in horizontal sequences, we deliberately avoided imposing a fixed direction.Interestingly, it was a client who first displayed the piece vertically—and that unexpected rotation revealed an entirely new spatial quality. It didn’t just “still work”; it felt purposeful. That moment confirmed something I had intuitively sensed during development: that the design could live across multiple orientations without losing coherence.Since then, the vertical and mixed arrangements have become part of the collection’s identity. People began composing their own versions—grouping panels, rotating directions, forming personalized layouts. Rather than resisting this, we embraced it. To me, this capacity for reinterpretation is what gives the work emotional longevity. When people see themselves reflected in a piece—when they co-author its meaning—it stays with them longer.
From the beginning, we planned to use birch plywood—not just because of its visual qualities, but because it aligned with both our sustainability goals and production realities. Its layered composition, light weight, and material efficiency made it a strong candidate for a design that needed to be both expressive and economical. As a team, we valued materials that could do more with less—and birch gave us that possibility.Still, we didn’t want the surface to feel flat or predictable. I wanted to enhance the sense of depth—not by adding volume, but by working with tone. We began experimenting with gentle staining techniques, testing how each layer could catch light differently without obscuring the wood’s texture. These weren’t full coats of paint, but nuanced treatments—dillamas, in a way—that allowed the natural grain to remain visible while emphasizing the layered relief.Through this process, something poetic emerged: each cut panel was paired with its inverse—just like positive and negative forms. But beyond the geometry, we decided to invert their color tones as well. One piece became the visual echo of the other—not just in shape, but in lightness and darkness. This contrast deepened the modular dialogue and made the pairing feel intentional, even emotional.In the end, the material did more than support the form—it became an active part of its language. And that’s what we always hope for: not just a technical resolution, but a quiet visual harmony that invites people to look again, and again.
The gradient coloring technique used in Parawood Verso didn’t begin as a defining feature—it evolved slowly, as the project itself changed shape. When we started in September 2022, the idea was simply to create a layered wood piece. I was initially brought on just to develop the surface geometry. There wasn’t yet a collection, or even a clear decision about framing.But once the first prototypes came out, something shifted. There was an unexpected sense of rhythm and subtlety in the layering, and we began to realize that the piece could carry more than just form—it could hold light and mood as well. That’s when we started experimenting with color. Not paint, but tone—stains and treatments that could follow the logic of the layers.The goal was to create a soft gradient—not applied uniformly, but revealed through the architecture of the cut. We tested how each plywood layer absorbed pigment differently, and how to emphasize depth without losing texture. Eventually, we extended that logic further: each panel had a counterpart—positive and negative forms, mirrored in both shape and tone. One dark, one light. Like shadows talking to their own silhouettes.Meanwhile, what started as a single-panel artwork grew. We explored frame/no-frame options, then realized that with minimal adjustments, each framed piece could give birth to an unframed one—and vice versa. That realization expanded the design into a four-piece collection, where every part was materially and conceptually connected.Since then, this layered-gradient approach has become part of our wider design language. We’ve begun applying it to other NeoDeco pieces as well. It speaks to more than just aesthetics—it speaks to transformation, circularity, and the quiet logic of modular design.
Sustainability, for me, is never a single-axis concept. In Parawood Verso, it manifests not only through environmental responsibility, but also through emotional durability, ethical production, and systemic design thinking.At the material level, we work with responsibly sourced birch plywood—lightweight, layered, and efficient—and our production model generates no waste. One of the collection’s key innovations is its circular logic: each framed piece gives birth to a frameless counterpart, with nearly zero leftover material. What might have been discarded becomes the foundation for another design. The inner becomes the outer. Form follows form.This allowed us to develop a four-piece series in which every part is intrinsically connected. Each shape echoes another; each decision leads to multiple outcomes. Sustainability here is not a constraint—it’s a design strategy that adds meaning, logic, and rhythm.But material efficiency is only one part of the story. Sustainability also lives in the relationship between the object and its user. Parawood Verso was designed to be adaptable—displayable in horizontal, vertical, or clustered arrangements. This flexibility invites people to compose their own configurations, to rotate, rehang, and reinterpret. In doing so, they become co-authors of the piece’s meaning. That emotional investment—the ability to shape how a design lives in your space—is what gives it longevity beyond trend or season.On the production side, we collaborate with local craftspeople and produce each item per order. This supports local economies, respects craftsmanship, and avoids the waste of overproduction. It’s a quiet but firm commitment to working slower, smarter, and more intentionally.In our staining and tonal layering process, we also sought to echo this principle. Through what we called “layered dillamas,” we created subtle tonal gradients that deepen the sense of relief and shadow. Each panel’s counterpart carries an inverted tone, reinforcing the idea of reciprocal design—where positive and negative forms, light and dark, frame and no-frame, all speak to one another.In this sense, Parawood Verso is not just about what it’s made of—it’s about how it’s made, how it evolves, and how it invites meaning. True sustainability is not a checklist. It’s a design ethic. And this piece reflects that in every layer, line, and relationship.
Wall art often lives in the background—quiet, decorative, static. With Parawood Verso, I wanted to challenge that passivity. I was drawn to the idea of creating a piece that could move without moving—one that invited the eye to travel, to linger, to discover rhythm in stillness.The focus on depth came from this desire to build a sense of visual movement—using nothing but form, light, and shadow. I’ve always been inspired by surfaces that do more than decorate; surfaces that shape the room around them. A piece that lives on the wall, but doesn’t flatten into it.I approached this project thinking: what if a wall piece could feel like it was breathing with the space? The layered geometry, with its gradual relief and mirrored patterns, allows light to shift across the surface throughout the day—making the work feel alive, dynamic, yet calm.Beyond aesthetics, depth also holds emotional weight. It slows people down. You don’t just glance at it—you trace it. That slowing down is a kind of presence, and for me, that’s where the value of decorative design really lies: in creating quiet moments of connection between space, object, and observer.
Winning the A' Design Award for Parawood Verso was a pivotal moment—not just for the project itself, but for my overall design philosophy. It marked the point where years of academic research, conceptual thinking, and lived values began to converge into a tangible, recognized form.For the past several years, I’ve been pursuing a PhD focused on sustainable design systems—exploring how material reuse, emotional attachment, and value-based decision-making can be integrated into product design. This work has always extended beyond theory. My goal was never to separate design and research, but to let them inform and transform each other.Parawood Verso became the first clear reflection of that vision in object form. The piece was never about surface-level eco aesthetics—it was about building sustainability into the very structure of how things are made and experienced. From modular reuse to minimal waste to adaptable interaction, the award confirmed that these principles are not just academically sound—they’re also emotionally and culturally resonant.This recognition has given me both visibility and renewed motivation to expand this approach into future collections. We’ve already begun developing new series that build on the same logic: one piece’s negative becomes another’s positive, tonal inversions echo structural relationships, and local, per-order production ensures minimal environmental impact. These aren't just design decisions—they’re systemic gestures of care.Personally, the award also gave me clarity. It reminded me that design is not separate from the values we research or the questions we ask—it’s where those values become visible. I’m now channeling more of this thinking into my individual practice as well, exploring how decorative design can be used as a platform for systemic storytelling—where form becomes a medium for values, rhythm, and responsibility.
I believe Parawood Verso has the potential to shift the way we think about decorative design—not just as ornament, but as a vehicle for material storytelling and ecological consciousness.In the context of sustainable home décor, it’s easy to focus on materials in isolation: is it recycled, renewable, biodegradable? But true impact comes when materials are rethought within systems. With Parawood Verso, the concept of waste was not something to manage after the fact—it was a starting point. Every piece in the series was designed with a counterpart in mind; every offcut had a future. The entire collection exists because of that logic: material becomes narrative, absence becomes form.As conversations around sustainability evolve, I see decorative wall art as an untapped space for experimentation and education. It’s often overlooked as purely aesthetic—but in reality, it occupies a central place in our homes, our visual culture, and our emotional atmosphere. What if those pieces could also reflect values? What if they could be quiet statements about circularity, interdependence, and care?I hope Parawood Verso contributes to this broader conversation—not as a singular solution, but as an example of what becomes possible when form, ethics, and process are aligned. For me, it's not just about reducing waste—it's about changing our expectations of what design can be responsible for. That’s the shift I’d like to see.
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