Why Singapore-based designer Robert Cheng won’t copy your Pinterest board

On paper, Robert Cheng is the perfect poster child for today’s craft-obsessed world. The founder and design director of Brewin Design Office, he has worked on several Capella hotel projects, including one in Kyoto, Japan, set to open in March 2026.

Educated in fine arts and architecture at the Rhode Island School of Design, he learned early on the importance of different mediums and quickly developed a deep appreciation for materiality.

Yet the Singapore-based designer gave off a faint air of bewilderment when asked about the importance of craft in his practice. “For me, it's the underlying common denominator for anything a designer should do. It's always been there,” said the 49-year-old.

What interests him more these days is how to introduce machine-made features into his projects, without compromising on the spirit of craftsmanship. In some ways, it is reflective of the nature of his design work too. 

Increasingly, Cheng finds himself meeting potential clients armed with Pinterest boards and boatloads of expectations that he replicate what they have discovered online. His response? “Sometimes, I'm prepared to lose jobs.”

CRAFTS VERSUS MACHINE-MADE

It would be easy to mistake it for arrogance, except the reality is anything but. Arriving at that decision, he said, is always preceded by serious conversations in which he tries to convince clients otherwise: “I try to do it with humility and as much earnestness as possible. I say that you came to me because we do a modern, contemporary look well, or that we love wood and we can really craft it well.”

The subtext is clear: Cheng is not a photocopying machine. He is perfectly capable of creating his own Pinterest board populated with original designs that others would want to emulate. The common thread running through them is a visible passion for an artisanal approach – whether in the construction of a piece of furniture, a fitting or a space.

For instance, the two-bedroom villas he renovated at the Four Seasons Hotel Langkawi feature bespoke master bedroom headboards created in collaboration with Indonesian weaving artisans BYO Living. Each piece is made with its signature threading technique, with motifs inspired by traditional Islamic and Malay ethnic patterns. 

For a home at Nassim Park Residences, a dozen marble columns in Jade Green Marble Onyx, sourced from Pakistan, were designed as a sculptural backdrop for the dining and living spaces, while doubling as a partition from the foyer.

At the Michelin-starred Ando restaurant in Hong Kong, over 200 sq m of wall and ceiling surfaces were skilfully finished in roughened black plaster. The raw, tactile texture evokes the earthy sensibility of chef Agustin Balbi’s Argentine roots and reflects his produce-driven concept.

Cheng acknowledged that while the idea of craft has always existed, it has become a dominant narrative in the design world over the last 10 years. “Maybe it was the era of modernism and machine-made environments that allowed us not to think about how something should really be perfected. Then, suddenly, it’s coming back,” he mused.

Still, he is not about to be swept along by the current. Cheng is resolute in his belief that craft is a building block of Brewin’s DNA that does not bear mentioning: “I could go around saying that we're all about well-made things, but would any firm not be about that? To not think about it or to over-emphasise it is strange to me.”

Instead, what is occupying his thoughts is how to embrace machine-made solutions, especially when it comes to interiors. For instance, guest room doors in Japan have to be fireproof, which means wood is out of the question. One solution is to wrap the door with a timber-lookalike film printed with grains so realistic they look almost authentic. “It is about how well you can understand the machine-made world to still give a result that comes across as crafted,” he explained.

To Cheng, the definition of craft is as much about an artisan or master making something as it is about appreciating how the object is made – whether by hand or by machine. “I think both are jointly important.”

COHESION BETWEEN OWNER, DESIGNER AND MAKER

Capella Hotel Kyoto will embody all this and more. Working with architect Kengo Kuma, Cheng transformed what was once an elementary school, taking inspiration from the city’s traditional machiya townhouses (wooden merchant homes). Across the 94 rooms are hand-applied earthen plaster walls, carved timber joinery inspired by choba tansu (merchant chests), and reimagined shoji panels (paper-like screens) rendered in glass and wood.

It does not stop there. His influence is also tangible in the design of the headboards. A conversation began with Hosoo Textiles, founded in Kyoto in 1688, but rather than use existing stock, Cheng formed a collaboration with the emerging artist Daichiro Shinjo. Known for Sumi ink paintings in large brushstrokes, Shinjo created a design that was then woven into a custom-made fabric for the headboards.

Another example is the noren, traditional split fabric door curtains, at the two entrances that welcome guests into the hotel. Typically changed every season, the panels take on lighter tones for spring and summer and darker hues for autumn and winter. Cheng commissioned Dutch artist Mae Engelgeer, who has spent the last 15 years in Kyoto, to create a set for Capella.

“She has sewn a variety of smaller pieces of fabric to create an almost painterly effect, while allowing the stitching to be revealed. It was a journey for us to work with her and understand her craft and weave that into the hotel.”

Of course, none of this would have been possible without a willing client – Evan Kwee, in this case. The vice-chairman of the Capella Hotel Group is also a close friend whom Cheng has known since he was five. Their first project together was in 2013, when Cheng designed the show flat for Ardmore Residence for Pontiac Land, where Kwee heads design and hospitality.

“I knew very quickly that he was willing to break barriers. Capella Kyoto is our first collaboration on one of the many hotels that Evan had piloted. I began to realise that it's very much to do with the stewardship of the owner. Every successful project has to do with the bridging between the owner, designer and maker – it is almost a kind of golden triangle.”

CONTRASTING JAPAN AND CHINA

Happily for Cheng, this trifecta formula looks set to continue, since he is currently designing Capella hotels in Shenzhen and Nanjing too. The energy in the meeting room of his art gallery-like office, where this interview takes place, picks up when he begins describing the contrasts between working culture in Japan and China.

The former is “laborious” in that the Japanese are inclined “to discuss every single screw…and make sure they can predict every single bit of the hotel”. He also found the ambiguity in their responses challenging, where “maybe” actually means “no” and silence is common.

China, on the other hand, has floored him with its ability to produce top-notch machine-made items: “Half of our hotel is made there. I don't know if that's something to be bashful about, because it has taken over the world and that is the reality. They push boundaries and it means that in the next 10 years, you will see very beautiful things come out of there.”

Cheng waxed lyrical too about the Chinese propensity for leveraging narratives, calling it a passion that borders on obsession. As a result, it pushes Brewin to dig deep for stories that feel authentic and help explain the “why” behind a project. He is trying to capture this culture in Capella Shenzhen too.

While researching the futuristic tier-one megacity, he found out that in 1980, it had a population of 20,000. Today, it has burgeoned to 25 million. “That’s the speed at which the city has grown. What is interesting is to integrate its blue-chip, big-tech-company positioning, with the backdrop of how Shenzhen used to be a fishing village. We also want to think a little bit more about the Ling Nan people from the region.”

How that manifests could be a carpet woven with Ling Nan-inspired motifs, set within an interior environment shaped by Norman Foster’s architecture. While still three years away from completion, Cheng is clearly fired up about the project: “Whether its evolution is a narrative or starting point, I think it is a basis for the design of this hotel.”

Listening to Cheng sheds light on his creative instincts. The peripatetic nature of his pre-Brewin years provided a strong foundation – from boarding school in the UK to moving between the US and European cities like Paris and Rome for university and, later, work. He eventually wended his way back to Singapore in 2012 to set up his studio. The studio’s name was inspired by Brewin Path, a quiet street in Hong Kong where his father, business leader Edmund Cheng of Wing Tai fame, grew up.

It therefore feels mildly absurd that clients would expect him to mimic their mood boards, regardless of typology or budget. That irony is heightened when Cheng shares that a key part of his workflow is communication: “It’s always important for me to understand the brief, especially from a functional standpoint. We are designing things that people live in and need to give space to allow such conversations to go both ways. This shouldn't be lost.”

Ultimately, he hopes clients will come to him because they recognise his love for making things and staying true to the process, while remaining authentic to the larger context.

He reflected: “The vocation of being a designer is probably harder than being a doctor. The truth is if it does cause that much heartache, what makes it worth it is really the passion behind it, and that passion is truly about how you make something beautiful, because you understand what you're making it with.”