Most of us have a pretty fixed idea of what a birdhouse looks like. A small wooden box, a round hole, maybe a little perch. It’s one of those objects so familiar it barely registers anymore. Designer Taekhan Yun decided to blow that idea up entirely, and he handed the job over to the last people anyone in the design industry would think to consult: ninety children in Siem Reap, Cambodia.
The project is called “Birdhouse by Kids,” and it is exactly what it sounds like, though the execution is far more considered than the name lets on. Yun, a Korean designer currently based in Cambodia, started the process by introducing the children to local bird species and basic birdhouse typologies. Not to teach them the “right” answer, but to give them just enough context before letting them loose with pencils and paper. The drawings that came out of that session were, predictably, wonderfully unruly. Rooftops that curve like waves, doors shaped more like portals, proportions that make zero structural sense and all the visual sense in the world.
Designer: Taekhan Yun
What Yun did next is the part that elevates this from a cute community project to something genuinely worth talking about. He didn’t correct the drawings. He translated them. There’s a massive difference between those two things, and most professional designers, trained to optimize and problem-solve, would have instinctively done the former. Yun chose the harder path, which was to honor the original intention of each design while figuring out how to make it stand upright, hold together, and actually function as a home for a bird.
The children then made clay prototypes of their own designs, turning two-dimensional sketches into three-dimensional objects with their own hands. Eight of those designs were ultimately selected and built into full-scale birdhouses, with the children participating in the finishing process alongside Yun. The completed birdhouses now live at the school, sitting in the kind of spaces where children play and gather, and they look like nothing you’ve ever seen in a garden center or a hardware store. They look like imagination made solid, which, technically, is exactly what they are.
I keep thinking about how rarely the design world genuinely invites this kind of collaboration. There’s plenty of design “for” children, but design “by” children is a different conversation altogether. Yun has been exploring this territory for a while now. His earlier project, “Chair for Kids,” followed a similar participatory model, where children at the English School of Siem Reap drew their own chair designs, measured their bodies, and helped build the final pieces. His philosophy seems rooted in the idea that design is not just a skill for making objects but a way of thinking, and that children, unburdened by convention, are actually very good at it.
The birdhouse project also does something quietly radical in terms of concept. It shifts the design brief away from humans entirely. The end user isn’t a child or an adult. It’s a bird. Yun has described this as moving from human-centered design toward designing for other species, using children’s perspectives as the starting point. That framing might sound academic, but the result is tangible and a little poetic: a group of kids in Cambodia drawing houses for birds, without a single preconception about what a birdhouse is “supposed” to look like.
Good design often works this way. It finds a new angle by removing the assumptions. Yun removed two at once: the assumption that designers must be trained professionals, and the assumption that form should follow function in the most literal, efficient way possible. The forms these kids invented follow something else, something closer to feeling or instinct, and the objects are richer for it. They are also, somehow, more honest.
We talk a lot about innovation in design, about breaking from convention and thinking outside the box. It turns out one very reliable way to do that is to ask someone who has never been in the box to begin with.
