Ponwit Rattanatanatevilai is a Thai architect and co-founder of PHTAA Living Design, the Bangkok-based architecture studio he leads alongside Harisadhi Leelayuwapan and Thanawat Patchimasiri. Founded in 2016, the studio engages closely with local material cultures and social contexts, crafting spatial narratives rooted in Thailand’s everyday life. Ponwit’s work is characterized by a subtle sculptural sensibility and a commitment to architectural reuse, craft, and cultural continuity.
PHTAA Living Design has received growing international attention for projects that bridge informality with refinement. Archive Auto in Bangna reimagines a former car-parts warehouse as a hybrid space for mechanical work, hospitality, and retail. Featuring repurposed metal mesh, reclaimed rolling shutters, and a movable staircase, the project preserves the memory of the original function while opening new spatial possibilities.
The Aube Wedding Venue in Taling Chan explores ceremonial architecture through an abstract interpretation of the Khan Maak procession. The design uses curved pathways and layered material transitions to embody both modern spatial clarity and traditional Thai symbolism.
Educated at Silpakorn University and previously trained at Vaslab Architecture, Ponwit brings technical fluency and cultural literacy to each commission. His design process emphasizes listening and observation, engaging directly with craftsmen, users, and the built environment to develop work that is contextually intelligent and materially expressive.
What inspires you?
My parents were clothing vendors at a textile market, which also doubled as our home when I was a child. Growing up, I lived among fabric displays and storage rooms overflowing with stacked garments. Our shophouse was four or five stories tall, and oddly enough, those storage rooms often became my safe space more so than the actual living areas. That experience shaped how I think about space: I never became attached to the idea of a “perfect” living environment. I also often saw my parents repurpose leftover stock in creative ways—turning fabric into ropes to bundle other textiles or stitching waterproof fabric scraps into makeshift awnings. Their ability to adapt and make the most out of what was available left a lasting impression on me and probably planted the seeds of my design thinking from a very young age.
What inspired you to become an architect?
Growing up and working in Thailand, I’ve witnessed how cities and suburbs evolve in parallel with people’s lives. From informal extensions to entirely improvised structures, I’ve always been intrigued by how Thai people creatively modify their surroundings to solve daily problems. These flexible, often intuitive methods of making and building reflect a lot about who we are. I wanted to be part of that narrative, to challenge and explore these ways of thinking, and architecture seemed like the profession that touches all of those aspects most deeply.
How would you describe your design philosophy?
Understanding the context—both physical and social—and getting to know the local craftspeople is always our starting point. We often approach a project by asking critical questions, not necessarily to create something new, but to explore new possibilities using what already exists.
What is your favorite project?
I’m particularly fond of the Lorphoonphol Rice Mill project. It’s rare for a single project to allow you to address so many questions at once. Located in a lowland agricultural area, it serves as a rice depot, a farmer waiting area, a grain testing lab, and a cafeteria for both mill workers and the surrounding community, where food options are otherwise scarce. Beyond meeting the needs of the owner and the farmers, we selected materials carefully: a special triangular brick shape was used to prevent water seepage and minimize dust buildup from rice milling. The bricks match the color of the dust, helping the building age gracefully. And because they were made just 30 km away, we reduced transport costs and supported local craftsmen as well.
What is your favorite detail?
The triangular brick wall from Lorphoonphol Rice Mill is not just aesthetic—it becomes alive when light and shadow fall across its surface. But more importantly, it began with a question: How do we deal with humidity and airborne rice dust in this environment? The sloped form of the bricks prevents rainwater from seeping back into the building, even years down the line. The texture and tone of the material, similar to rice husks, camouflages the dust, making the wall appear clean and enduring despite the working conditions. And it wasn’t just about the function or the look, it was also about supporting local craftsmanship. The bricks were custom-fired at a kiln just a short drive from the site.
Do you have a favorite material?
I wouldn’t say I have a single favorite material, but I’m especially drawn to the process behind materials, whether industrially manufactured or naturally sourced. Revisiting how a material is made, talking with craftspeople, and exploring its potential often leads us to unexpected outcomes. It’s about rethinking how to use what already exists instead of creating something new that consumes more resources.
What is your process for starting a new project?
Our process isn’t radically different from other architects, but what we emphasize is getting to know the local people and understanding how they live. That connection gives us pure, grounded insights, which become the foundation for our design thinking before we put anything on paper.
How do you fuel your creativity?
I believe creativity is something Thai people naturally develop, often out of necessity. In a country that isn’t overly affluent, resourcefulness becomes second nature. Observing how people solve problems in everyday life, many of whom aren’t designers, constantly inspires me. Visiting those places and observing those improvised solutions gives me the energy to keep creating.
What inspired Archive Auto Service Facility?
The project started when we visited the original site, which was filled with car parts of all sizes. The owner wanted more storage space but had no room left. They had begun attaching car parts to mesh walls using both hanging and stacking techniques. That image really stayed with us. It made us wonder: how could the way materials are used and stored also reflect the identity of the place and the owner? That became our design question.
How did materiality shape the Archive Auto Service Facility?
Building on that idea, we reused some of the old metal mesh panels and mixed them with new ones. We layered the mesh in opposing directions to create a distinctive visual identity. This not only provided partial shading but also allowed ventilation for areas like the bathrooms and semi‑outdoor spaces. We repurposed old rolling shutter doors into a café backdrop and reused other metal parts for fencing. To navigate various mezzanine levels without constructing multiple staircases, we introduced a single movable staircase that can be repositioned throughout the space.
How did the public embrace Khanong Phra Campsite?
At first, visitors were puzzled that Khanong Phra Campsite wasn’t the typical resort. It was more of a quiet, low‑impact retreat for those who wanted to camp on their terms, surrounded by nature. We tried to build as little as possible and blended the structures into the landscape. Local stoneworkers helped us use abundant natural rocks on the land to create resting areas. This approach allowed us to maintain the original mountain scenery while offering a unique experience for guests.
What advice would you give to young architects?
Fresh ideas don’t always come from the internet. Going out and observing the world firsthand is much more important. Without a deep, real understanding of a place and its people, designs can lack soul. Craftspeople, street vendors, even motorcycle taxi shelters all have their logic, their own ways of solving problems. Learn from them. Visit construction material shops. Keep your eyes open and archive those experiences. You never know when they’ll become your next big idea.
