The Plate That Holds More Than Food: Empathy in Everyday Objects

At the 2025 Golden Arc Design Awards, designer Hanes Hsu was honored with the Platinum Prize in Medical & Healthcare Devices for his thoughtful and emotionally resonant project Fluid Boundaries. The work challenges the way we think about aging—offering not just functionality, but dignity, empathy, and beauty.

The inspiration came from a personal memory: watching his grandmother, once the heart of the family kitchen, gradually excluded from cooking due to safety concerns. That moment of lost agency sparked a question that shaped the entire project: Why should aging mean giving up life’s small but meaningful rituals?

Rather than creating an overtly “assistive” product, Hsu designed a tray and plate system that supports users subtly—with softly sloped edges, an intuitive interlocking mechanism for grip and balance, and high-quality materials like polished aluminum that feel dignified, not disposable. The design respects users' independence without signaling fragility, allowing older adults to continue cooking, serving, and sharing meals with confidence.

“Design should not erase identity,” says Hsu. “It should preserve and empower it—quietly and beautifully.”

We praise the project for its graceful fusion of utility and emotional depth, highlighting how it reflects a larger vision for inclusive design: one that centers lived experience, respects personal history, and brings beauty into everyday care.

Fluid Boundaries isn’t just a product—it’s a poetic reminder that design has the power to support, not replace; to affirm, not diminish. In a world of aging populations, Hsu’s work redefines what it means to grow older with grace.

1.What inspired you to explore the kitchen as a site for reimagining independence in aging?

The kitchen has always fascinated me as a space where independence, creativity, and care intersect. It’s where we nourish ourselves, experiment, and connect with others — but for older adults, especially those experiencing physical or cognitive changes, this familiar and intimate space can shift from one of empowerment to one of challenge or even risk.

A very personal moment for me was seeing my grandmother — once the heart of our family gatherings and the main cook — now banned from entering the kitchen because of concerns over her safety. That loss of role and agency stayed with me. It made me ask: why should aging mean giving up these small but meaningful moments?

There’s a lot of attention on assistive devices today, but surprisingly little focused on accessibility within the kitchen, even though many older adults spend most of their time at home. I wanted to explore how design can intervene not by simplifying tasks to the point of infantilization, but by honoring the adaptability, dignity, and autonomy of aging users. My goal was to create something that helps restore access to as many spaces in the home as possible — not just for practicality, but for enrichment of life.

2.What emotions or values—such as dignity, autonomy, or empathy—were you hoping to express through this adaptive design?

At the heart of Fluid Boundaries is a deep respect for dignity, autonomy, and empathy. I wanted the design to honor the small, everyday actions that let someone feel self-sufficient — the ability to prepare or serve a meal, to set a plate down without spilling, to share a table with others. These moments hold immense emotional weight, especially when they’re threatened by aging or disability.

Empathy, for me, isn’t about pity — it’s about truly listening and understanding the evolving needs of aging individuals. I see aging not as decline but as a shift in interaction, one that design should meet with sensitivity and care. My goal was to quietly restore agency, without adding stigma: to create something that empowers aging users but also holds universal appeal. Like the curb-cut effect, the design aims to offer subtle support that benefits everyone, whether they need extra help or not — making beauty, dignity, and autonomy part of everyday life for all.

3.Is there a particular feature or material in the tray and plate system that carries special meaning or emotional resonance for you?

Yes — the subtly sloped edge of the plate and the gentle interlocking mechanism between the plate and tray are especially meaningful to me because they reflect the idea that adaptation doesn’t need to look clinical or obvious. These details support grip, stability, and control, but they do so softly and intuitively, almost invisibly.

Material choice was also deeply intentional. I wanted to avoid anything that might feel cheap or disposable — something Deborah, an art therapist I spoke with, highlighted when she described how often older adults are sent to the dollar store for “solutions,” which can feel like a quiet reduction of dignity. I drew inspiration from my interviewees, like Jane, who spoke fondly of refined tableware brands like Nambe and Fiesta Ware. For me, it was essential that the design be both functional and beautiful — not reinforcing stereotypes or infantilizing older adults, but offering something anyone would be proud to use. The aluminum version, in particular, carries this quiet elegance and durability, showing that adaptive design can be both sophisticated and desirable.

4.Was there a specific user insight or interview moment that significantly shaped your creative process?

One of the most persistent themes that shaped my thinking was the need for stability. Across many interviews, people described constantly looking for places to rest, worrying about tripping or falling, or feeling frustrated when tremors or unsteady hands caused them to spill things. These weren’t just physical limitations — they carried deep emotional weight, touching on vulnerability, frustration, and sometimes embarrassment, slowly chipping away at a person’s sense of confidence and control. A particularly meaningful moment came when Deborah pointed out how we hold older adults to conflicting standards — we associate aging with wisdom and resilience, yet the moment an older person makes a visible “mistake,” society rushes to assume they are incapable or in need of help. That contradiction stayed with me. It made me realize the design couldn’t just solve functional issues; it had to address emotional ones too. My goal became to quietly support moments of instability without drawing attention to them — to create an object that reinforces dignity and agency, offering subtle, empowering support without signaling frailty or loss.

5.What shift in perspective do you hope designers or audiences take away regarding aging and inclusivity in everyday products?

I hope this project helps shift the narrative around aging — not as a decline to be managed, but as a generative and creative space for design. Aging invites us to rethink assumptions about ability, aesthetics, and what makes a product meaningful. Inclusive design isn’t just about meeting functional needs or checking accessibility boxes; it’s about honoring the emotional, social, and lived experiences of all users.

Rather than thinking of inclusivity as a niche or afterthought, designers should see it both as foundational and as a powerful opportunity to create better products for everyone. At some point, we all experience changes in ability — and designing with that in mind makes everyday life more thoughtful, respectful, and human for all of us.