Just off Seletar Aerospace Drive, past colonial-era black-and-white edifices, in the shadow of Seletar Airport, sits a building that marks a new phase in Singaporean industrial designer Nathan Yong’s career.
The two-storey, 3,000 sq ft property at 8 Baker Street – once designed for British military servicemen – has been reimagined as Nathan Home, a retail brand and experiential gallery that has an online and offline presence.
The showroom feels at once removed from the buzz of popular joints in the vicinity (family-friendly F&B destination Wheeler’s Estate; wedding venue Wildseed Cafe at The Summerhouse), yet also connected to them in spirit.
Yong, 55, is no newcomer to the design world. With over two decades of experience, a President’s Design Award under his belt, and past collaborations with international marques like Ligne Roset and Living Divani, he is one of Singapore’s most respected and prolific designers.
Nathan Home is equal parts gallery, design studio and concept store. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
After launching furniture retail stores like Air Division in 1999 and Grafunkt in 2009, Nathan Home marks his most personal venture yet. It’s a return to independent expression, rooted in Yong’s long-held beliefs about materials, emotion, and the human experience.
This, said Yong, is what he has been building towards his entire life. “I wanted to control the narrative, not just over what I design, but how it’s made, how it’s shared, and what it stands for.”
Teaming up with an investor (Yong declined to reveal their identity, but says they sank a “high six-figure” sum), he spent six weeks converting the building into a space that emanates a relaxed, lived-in feel.
Equal parts gallery, design studio and concept store, Yong was mindful of keeping renovations to a minimum. “It was mostly surface treatment. I wanted this place precisely for its aged patina,” he shared.
Yong’s own narrative arc is deeply Singaporean, yet wholly singular. Growing up in Tanjong Rhu in the 1970s – long before the forest of condominiums and sporting/recreational playgrounds of Kallang sprang up – his early years were gritty but evocative. Back then, the area was a maritime village, the air thick with sea salt and the scent of engine oil.
“The boatyards were loud, raw, and beautiful in their own way,” Yong recalled. “That environment taught me to appreciate materials for what they are – not what they pretend to be. I saw how things were built, fixed, repurposed. It instilled a kind of honesty in my approach to design, one that values simplicity, utility, and soul.”
There was no language for design then. No Pinterest or Instagram, no curated mood boards. But there was instinct. Yong spent hours sketching mythical creatures and religious figures, or tinkering with found objects. He didn’t see it as talent; it was simply how he processed life – through shape, emotion and form.
Yong grew up in Tanjong Rhu in the 1970s, where he spent hours sketching mythical creatures and religious figures, or tinkering with found objects. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
Singapore’s design landscape, too, was in its infancy. Industrial design wasn’t seen as a viable profession. But every time he fixed something, repurposed an object, or made something from scratch, it felt to him like second nature. Over time, it dawned on him that his instincts had value and that he could carve a life path from it.
Years later, at design school, it was a British lecturer, Frank Drake, who gave Yong’s gift a name – and a compass. Drake taught Yong that design wasn’t just about problem-solving; it was deeply human. “Good design starts with empathy,” Yong reflected. “It’s about how something works, how it feels, and who it’s for.”
His pieces have been produced by global names like Design Within Reach (DWR) and Herman Miller, yet he has remained rooted in Singapore. Even as others chased creative cachet abroad, Yong stayed put, helping to shape the local design scene from the ground up.
Yong's Split Chair, both visually light and structurally considered, brings a sculptural presence to its setting. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
“I never relocated, never gave up when others did,” he recounted. “These choices allowed design to blossom here, and allowed me to grow with it.” If he could talk to his younger self, he would tell that wide-eyed boy to keep doing what he was doing, stay curious and fearless, but also remain humble and authentic.
Yong’s career began with Air Division, a furniture store and design label that introduced contemporary, minimalist designs to a new generation of Singaporeans. In 2006, he sold the business and went on to start Nathan Yong Design, creating collections that were picked up by global brands while continuing to consult for local clients.
He also co-founded multi-label furniture store Grafunkt with business partner Jefery Kurniadidjaja. The store, which blended global and local design, quickly gained a cult following.
His experiences as a buyer and a retailer taught him that designers cannot operate in silos; they are inevitably part of a larger ecosystem comprising design clients, craftsmen, manufacturers, logistics personnel, and end-users.
“That awareness humbles you,” he said. “You start designing with empathy, not ego. Retail also showed me that if I have the power to determine how things are made, I also have the responsibility to respect the people, the process, and the planet.”
Yong's design philosophy stems from simplicity, emotional resonance and respect for materials. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
What’s remained consistent throughout the years is his design philosophy: Simplicity, emotional resonance, and respect for materials. His pieces are often characterised by clean lines, natural finishes, and subtle detailing – elements that reflect his preference for timelessness over trendiness.
“I believe in making things that improve with age,” he asserted. “When something is used and loved over time, that’s the truest form of sustainability because we allow the resources time to generate.”
This approach stands in contrast to the fast consumption model that plagues the global furniture industry – and other sectors, for that matter. Yong remains critical of design that’s more about visual impact than user experience.
As the world moves towards automation and AI-generated creativity, Yong’s concerns increasingly revolve around truth and authenticity. “With emerging AI and robotics, the question becomes: How do we design with emotions in mind?” he asked rhetorically.
To be clear, Yong doesn’t see technology as the enemy. He does, however, believe that the future of design lies in being more human, not less. This means designing not just beautiful objects, but meaningful ones. Pieces that are made to age, endure and evolve with their owners.
His design process begins with intention, thinking about how end-users live, feel and grow. “If you approach each project with sincerity and really think about how it’s used, you naturally find that emotional thread. The hand wants comfort, the eye wants balance, the heart wants resonance.”
At the same time, he is drawn to irregularities, like the knot in a piece of wood or the uneven patina of brass. “These are signs of life, of time, of being touched. Imperfection gives a piece character. Again it is part of being humanistic,” he declared.
Yong imagines Nathan Home as a space to collaborate with other like-minded creators. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
That ethos is quietly present in every aspect of Nathan Home; the space is a distillation of everything Yong stands for. The name may be simple, but the philosophy runs deep.
“It’s a quiet rebellion against a world of fast, disposable things. It’s a proposal to slow down. To fill our homes with things that carry meaning, not just in style, but in story. A house should reflect who you are: your contradictions, your quirks, your soul.”
Seletar, with its laid-back atmosphere and black-and-white bungalows, gave him a space to show that one can love many things deeply, and hold them together with grace. Every item in the space is selected for how it feels, functions and fits into daily life. There’s a strong emphasis on tactility – woods with grain, textiles with weight, finishes that develop patina over time.
When asked which piece in the collection holds the most meaning, Yong shrugged. “Too many to mention!”
Evident in the space is a strong emphasis on tactility – woods with grain, textiles with weight, finishes that develop patina over time. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
One of Yong’s broader goals with Nathan Home is to create a platform to collaborate with other like-minded creators, whether it’s a potter, a candlemaker, or a textile designer. These collaborations reflect his belief that good design grows in community.
“I’d like to build a quiet community,” he said. “One that believes in this way of living – and shares that with the world.”
It’s telling that his most personal project wasn’t a commercial venture, but a public design-art installation that the National Gallery commissioned just after the COVID-19 pandemic. “There in the Middleness” featured 124 concrete benches debossed with words submitted by the public during the pandemic – phrases of resilience, kindness, and hope. Together they formed a 40m ring at the Padang, where strangers sat facing each other.
“It was about stillness, community, and collective healing. That project will always stay with me because it was a collective moment where we felt the fragility of life and the importance of relationships.”
Asked what legacy he hopes to leave, Yong’s answer is clear: To restore meaning in how we live, shop, and feather our nest.
“That design isn’t just about form, strategy or solution. It’s about beauty distilled from love and intelligence. It’s about creating with care, and living with meaning. And that Nathan Home becomes an institution for this message – a quiet force that inspires people to live more truthfully, more thoughtfully, and more beautifully.”
Continue reading...
The two-storey, 3,000 sq ft property at 8 Baker Street – once designed for British military servicemen – has been reimagined as Nathan Home, a retail brand and experiential gallery that has an online and offline presence.
The showroom feels at once removed from the buzz of popular joints in the vicinity (family-friendly F&B destination Wheeler’s Estate; wedding venue Wildseed Cafe at The Summerhouse), yet also connected to them in spirit.
Yong, 55, is no newcomer to the design world. With over two decades of experience, a President’s Design Award under his belt, and past collaborations with international marques like Ligne Roset and Living Divani, he is one of Singapore’s most respected and prolific designers.
Nathan Home is equal parts gallery, design studio and concept store. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
After launching furniture retail stores like Air Division in 1999 and Grafunkt in 2009, Nathan Home marks his most personal venture yet. It’s a return to independent expression, rooted in Yong’s long-held beliefs about materials, emotion, and the human experience.
This, said Yong, is what he has been building towards his entire life. “I wanted to control the narrative, not just over what I design, but how it’s made, how it’s shared, and what it stands for.”
Teaming up with an investor (Yong declined to reveal their identity, but says they sank a “high six-figure” sum), he spent six weeks converting the building into a space that emanates a relaxed, lived-in feel.
Equal parts gallery, design studio and concept store, Yong was mindful of keeping renovations to a minimum. “It was mostly surface treatment. I wanted this place precisely for its aged patina,” he shared.
FROM BOATYARDS TO BEYOND
Yong’s own narrative arc is deeply Singaporean, yet wholly singular. Growing up in Tanjong Rhu in the 1970s – long before the forest of condominiums and sporting/recreational playgrounds of Kallang sprang up – his early years were gritty but evocative. Back then, the area was a maritime village, the air thick with sea salt and the scent of engine oil.
“The boatyards were loud, raw, and beautiful in their own way,” Yong recalled. “That environment taught me to appreciate materials for what they are – not what they pretend to be. I saw how things were built, fixed, repurposed. It instilled a kind of honesty in my approach to design, one that values simplicity, utility, and soul.”
There was no language for design then. No Pinterest or Instagram, no curated mood boards. But there was instinct. Yong spent hours sketching mythical creatures and religious figures, or tinkering with found objects. He didn’t see it as talent; it was simply how he processed life – through shape, emotion and form.
Yong grew up in Tanjong Rhu in the 1970s, where he spent hours sketching mythical creatures and religious figures, or tinkering with found objects. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
Singapore’s design landscape, too, was in its infancy. Industrial design wasn’t seen as a viable profession. But every time he fixed something, repurposed an object, or made something from scratch, it felt to him like second nature. Over time, it dawned on him that his instincts had value and that he could carve a life path from it.
Years later, at design school, it was a British lecturer, Frank Drake, who gave Yong’s gift a name – and a compass. Drake taught Yong that design wasn’t just about problem-solving; it was deeply human. “Good design starts with empathy,” Yong reflected. “It’s about how something works, how it feels, and who it’s for.”
His pieces have been produced by global names like Design Within Reach (DWR) and Herman Miller, yet he has remained rooted in Singapore. Even as others chased creative cachet abroad, Yong stayed put, helping to shape the local design scene from the ground up.
Yong's Split Chair, both visually light and structurally considered, brings a sculptural presence to its setting. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
“I never relocated, never gave up when others did,” he recounted. “These choices allowed design to blossom here, and allowed me to grow with it.” If he could talk to his younger self, he would tell that wide-eyed boy to keep doing what he was doing, stay curious and fearless, but also remain humble and authentic.
'DESIGNING WITH EMPATHY, NOT EGO'
Yong’s career began with Air Division, a furniture store and design label that introduced contemporary, minimalist designs to a new generation of Singaporeans. In 2006, he sold the business and went on to start Nathan Yong Design, creating collections that were picked up by global brands while continuing to consult for local clients.
He also co-founded multi-label furniture store Grafunkt with business partner Jefery Kurniadidjaja. The store, which blended global and local design, quickly gained a cult following.
His experiences as a buyer and a retailer taught him that designers cannot operate in silos; they are inevitably part of a larger ecosystem comprising design clients, craftsmen, manufacturers, logistics personnel, and end-users.
“That awareness humbles you,” he said. “You start designing with empathy, not ego. Retail also showed me that if I have the power to determine how things are made, I also have the responsibility to respect the people, the process, and the planet.”
Yong's design philosophy stems from simplicity, emotional resonance and respect for materials. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
What’s remained consistent throughout the years is his design philosophy: Simplicity, emotional resonance, and respect for materials. His pieces are often characterised by clean lines, natural finishes, and subtle detailing – elements that reflect his preference for timelessness over trendiness.
“I believe in making things that improve with age,” he asserted. “When something is used and loved over time, that’s the truest form of sustainability because we allow the resources time to generate.”
This approach stands in contrast to the fast consumption model that plagues the global furniture industry – and other sectors, for that matter. Yong remains critical of design that’s more about visual impact than user experience.
A HUMANISTIC APPROACH IN THE AGE OF AI
As the world moves towards automation and AI-generated creativity, Yong’s concerns increasingly revolve around truth and authenticity. “With emerging AI and robotics, the question becomes: How do we design with emotions in mind?” he asked rhetorically.
To be clear, Yong doesn’t see technology as the enemy. He does, however, believe that the future of design lies in being more human, not less. This means designing not just beautiful objects, but meaningful ones. Pieces that are made to age, endure and evolve with their owners.
His design process begins with intention, thinking about how end-users live, feel and grow. “If you approach each project with sincerity and really think about how it’s used, you naturally find that emotional thread. The hand wants comfort, the eye wants balance, the heart wants resonance.”
At the same time, he is drawn to irregularities, like the knot in a piece of wood or the uneven patina of brass. “These are signs of life, of time, of being touched. Imperfection gives a piece character. Again it is part of being humanistic,” he declared.
Yong imagines Nathan Home as a space to collaborate with other like-minded creators. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
That ethos is quietly present in every aspect of Nathan Home; the space is a distillation of everything Yong stands for. The name may be simple, but the philosophy runs deep.
“It’s a quiet rebellion against a world of fast, disposable things. It’s a proposal to slow down. To fill our homes with things that carry meaning, not just in style, but in story. A house should reflect who you are: your contradictions, your quirks, your soul.”
Seletar, with its laid-back atmosphere and black-and-white bungalows, gave him a space to show that one can love many things deeply, and hold them together with grace. Every item in the space is selected for how it feels, functions and fits into daily life. There’s a strong emphasis on tactility – woods with grain, textiles with weight, finishes that develop patina over time.
When asked which piece in the collection holds the most meaning, Yong shrugged. “Too many to mention!”
Evident in the space is a strong emphasis on tactility – woods with grain, textiles with weight, finishes that develop patina over time. (Photo: Kelvin Chia/CNA)
BUILDING A COMMUNITY
One of Yong’s broader goals with Nathan Home is to create a platform to collaborate with other like-minded creators, whether it’s a potter, a candlemaker, or a textile designer. These collaborations reflect his belief that good design grows in community.
“I’d like to build a quiet community,” he said. “One that believes in this way of living – and shares that with the world.”
It’s telling that his most personal project wasn’t a commercial venture, but a public design-art installation that the National Gallery commissioned just after the COVID-19 pandemic. “There in the Middleness” featured 124 concrete benches debossed with words submitted by the public during the pandemic – phrases of resilience, kindness, and hope. Together they formed a 40m ring at the Padang, where strangers sat facing each other.
“It was about stillness, community, and collective healing. That project will always stay with me because it was a collective moment where we felt the fragility of life and the importance of relationships.”
Asked what legacy he hopes to leave, Yong’s answer is clear: To restore meaning in how we live, shop, and feather our nest.
“That design isn’t just about form, strategy or solution. It’s about beauty distilled from love and intelligence. It’s about creating with care, and living with meaning. And that Nathan Home becomes an institution for this message – a quiet force that inspires people to live more truthfully, more thoughtfully, and more beautifully.”
Continue reading...