Yinka Ilori’s new book gives his celebrated chairs a voice

‘Chairman’ reveals how one of design’s most familiar objects became the starting point for more than a decade of work

Colourful chairs by Yinka Ilori, from his new book, Chairman
Left, ‘Home Affairs’, 2015. Right, ‘Because The Truth is Bitter’, 2016
(Image credit: Andy Stagg)

A chair was never an anonymous piece of furniture in Yinka Ilori’s childhood home. Each member of the family had their own, and sitting in somebody else’s seat came with the peculiar feeling that you had crossed a personal boundary.

That early relationship with furniture sits at the heart of Chairman, Ilori’s forthcoming debut book and the first comprehensive account of his celebrated chair works. Published by ORO Editions, the 120-page monograph brings together more than a decade of his practice, following the development of a design language shaped by his Nigerian heritage, his London upbringing and a fascination with the stories we attach to everyday objects.

Newly commissioned photography sits alongside archival material and glimpses of Ilori’s studio, following the chairs from discarded pieces of furniture through restoration and towards their final surfaces. Contributions from poet, artist and filmmaker Julianknxx, curator and writer Jareh Das, designer Martino Gamper and furniture designer Jane Atfield consider the work through material culture, sustainability, authorship and diasporic identity.

The book’s title has its own cultural reference point. In ‘Ijoko Agba’ (2013), translated as ‘Big Man’s Chair’, Ilori looks to the Nigerian idea of the chairman as a respected figure of authority. The chair brings British furniture design together with African textiles, drawing from Ilori’s own experience of growing up between British and Nigerian cultures.

Ilori started out collecting secondhand and abandoned furniture from London’s streets and charity shops, restoring and remaking each piece through paint, pattern, upholstery and sometimes fairly radical structural changes. Arms were extended, legs cut and reattached, backrests turned in unexpected directions. You can still recognise the chair that was there before, though what it might mean, or even how you are supposed to use it, has changed. Familiar British furniture forms sit alongside Nigerian textiles, bold colour and the oral traditions he grew up with.

Yinka Ilori chair in bright orange

(Image credit: Andy Stagg)

Many of the chairs begin with parables Ilori heard as a child. He rarely tries to tell the whole story through a single object, but instead might pick out a word, a gesture or one particular character and find a physical language for it. A giraffe’s long neck, for example, can become an elongated section of a chair. Colour and print come later, something Ilori compares to ‘having Sunday roast and then getting dessert’.

‘Oba Kekere’ (2013), meaning ‘Small King’ in Yoruba, is upholstered in Aso Oke fabric from Ondo State, where Ilori’s late mother was born. Ilori shortened one leg, then added pieces of wood to bring the chair back into balance. Its low stature recalls a child’s seat and plays with ideas of hierarchy, particularly the position given to those considered small within it.

‘Osumare’ (2014), the Yoruba word for ‘rainbow’, grew out of a conversation about sexuality, masculinity, and faith. Ilori was inspired by a friend who spoke openly to him about feelings he had kept private for a long time. The chair’s lowered backrest came from thinking about the judgement placed on people when others decide their experiences are wrong.

Sky blue chair with a lights set in an upright of the backrest

‘Let There Be Light’ (2013)

(Image credit: Andy Stagg)

Some of Ilori’s interventions leave the chairs impractical, while others refuse conventional use altogether. A stool may lose a leg; another piece might gain hooks in a place where they appear to make little practical sense. For Ilori, function is something that can be played with. A chair can be sat on, looked at, questioned, or understood as sculpture. What somebody makes of it is open to interpretation.

Yinka Illori chair with pink legs and green top

‘If chairs could talk’, 2015

(Image credit: Andy Stagg)

Among the later works is ‘Transparency Akoyawo I’ (2023), which looks to the migration experiences of Ilori’s parents. Rough openings have been cut through its centre and filled with resin, exposing what Ilori describes as ideas of hidden pain and resilience. MCM textiles in brown, black, pink and blue-grey cover the chair, bringing together references to lives formed across different places.

yinka illori chair with cutaway backrest

‘Eye Elogi’, 2019.

(Image credit: Andy Stagg)

The book arrives during a particularly active period for Ilori. This summer, he released his first full furniture and homeware collection with Dunelm, a 40-piece collaboration shaped by ideas of community, shared heritage and accessible design. His first solo London gallery exhibition followed at Cristea Roberts Gallery, where ‘Joy Through Resistance: He Who Laughs Last, Laughs Best’ brought together new paintings, prints, sculpture and an immersive sound installation.

Chairman by Yinka Ilori, $40, hardback, 120 pages, published by ORO Editions in autumn 2026 and available to pre-order now

Social Media Editor

Jamilah Rose-Roberts is Wallpaper’s Social Media Editor. Alongside shaping the brand’s social media presence, she writes about arts and design, focusing on cultural narratives, the diaspora, and contemporary practice. She enjoys meeting artists and designers, visiting exhibitions, and conducting interviews.