One to Watch: Houndz’s Christina Smith Makes Metal Furniture That Looks Soft

In her early years as an engineer, Christina Smith never pictured herself as a metal girl—or the founder of a design studio. She was gutting her little mill house in Campbell River while wrapping up her Red Seal in fabrication, and just needed somewhere to hang a jacket. “I had nowhere to put anything, so I made this giant yellow armoire out of scrap metal I had lying around,” says Smith. That piece, now known as Mandy (named for her friend and muse Mandy-Lyn Antoniou), wasn’t just a home upgrade. “I’d never seen anything like it—and I made it because I needed it,” says Smith. “It was like a light switch turning on. This was what I was meant to be doing.”

At the time, Smith was still finishing her metal fabrication apprenticeship, working full-time in a welding shop that specialized in railings and gates. Her boss was supportive—he even lent her rolls of steel and tools to build out her home setup. “I was using a manual roll bender and making these big swoopy shapes on my lunch break,” says Smith. “I’d roll one side and flip it, roll the other—and just see what happened.”

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The more she made, the more people took notice. “There was this construction worker who saw the shelf and immediately bought one for his partner—he just connected with it,” says Smith. “It didn’t look like metal should look. And I realized that was what I wanted to keep exploring.”

That one-off project sparked Houndz: a fabrication-forward studio that blends craft, art and storytelling in powder-coated metal. From a home workshop with a dreamy coastal view, Smith now creates what she calls “objects of delight”: floating shelves, clover-shaped chairs and sculptural credenzas that feel more like art than furniture. Her pieces carry a quiet surprise—a softness that contradicts the toughness of their material. “That surprise—that this is metal—is what I want to evoke,” says Smith.

Her path into the trades had actually started earlier, after ordering a custom metal vanity leg online. “I found Bronte Freeman online and I thought: oh my god, a woman doing this work—maybe I can too,” Smith says. She messaged Freeman, who encouraged her to apply to a Women in Trades program. “I was already thinking about leaving engineering—I just needed that push.”

By the time she wrapped her ticket in 2023, she had quietly amassed a growing body of work. She wasn’t designing for clients—not yet. “I had these shapes in my head I just had to see in real life,” says Smith. “And once I started, I couldn’t stop.”

Now, with her home studio up and running and a portfolio of sculptural, curving forms, Smith is leaning into her instinct. “I’m not trying to be precious,” she says. “I’m making big, weird, joyful stuff—because I can.”

Her debut collection includes the swooping Molly shelf (inspired by 1970s graphics), the Mandy and Chloë wall-mounted armoires and her signature clover-backed chairs—part Paper Bag Princess, part steel sculpture. That blend of whimsy and precision reflects her roots in engineering, yes, but also in observation: she’s someone who notices how things are made and then remakes them her way.

And while her aesthetic often leans feminine, Smith is deliberate about expanding her material world. She’s already eyeing collaborations in wood and clay. “Houndz isn’t just about me—it’s about the whole pack,” she says. That pack includes her partner, who’s a fine woodworker, and a few friends she hopes to team up with for larger-scale, mixed-material installations.

After showing at Edit Napoli in Italy and IDS Vancouver this past year, Smith is entering a new chapter. She’s fielding commissions and carving out space for beauty and boldness in the built world. “I’m finally creating the life I always wanted,” says Smith. “And I just want to keep going.”

Follow Christina Smith at @h_o_u_n_d_z