When you think of cutting-edge design, your mind might jump to sleek sports cars or futuristic motorcycles. But there’s another world of design that plays an equally crucial role in shaping our future: farm equipment. In the world of farming equipment, innovation is just as crucial—if not more demanding. Today, we sit down with James Lee, lead designer at Case IH, the visionary behind the newly launched AF10, for an insider’s look into the life of a designer working on tractors and heavy machinery.
In this interview, we explore the unique challenges of designing farm machinery and how crafting these robust, high-performance machines vastly differs from designing for cars and motorcycles. The combination of function, durability, and user experience pushes creativity to new heights, far beyond what you might expect. Sit back and enjoy the interview!
Hi James! Your journey to becoming the lead designer at Case IH must be fascinating. Could you share a bit about your background and experiences and how you ended up in agriculture design?
I began my career as an architecture designer, but like many boys, my true passion had always been car design. Since the day I first watched Knight Rider, I thought cars were the coolest thing in the world. Unfortunately, I couldn't afford to attend the Art Center College of Design, nor could I secure a loan at the time, so I chose to study at Emily Carr University of Art and Design in Canada. After graduating, I was eager to break into the car design industry—but I quickly realized it wasn’t going to be easy. I applied to the Big Three automakers, but one wrote back saying, "We don’t accept applicants who didn’t attend Art Center." I sent out 60 more applications but received no offers.
My big break came from Mr. Mimura in Japan, at MIM Design. Those who used to read Car Styling magazine might recall seeing MIM advertised in it. This was my first opportunity to sketch cars. The pay was just 1000 Yen an hour (around $10), but I was grateful for the opportunity. I scraped by, saved enough to buy a Sony VAIO, and built a new portfolio, which led to a job at TUG, a Subaru design studio. When I returned to the U.S., I met Mike Tsay and got the chance to work as a contractor on the HondaJet project. In 2008, after the Lehman Brothers crash, Mike and Honda VP Kigoshi hired me full-time into Honda’s automotive division. I spent 10 years at Honda R&D, working primarily on North American production vehicles, with some concept projects on the side.
Moving to CNH was a tough decision because designing cars had always been my childhood dream. However, I accepted the offer because I believe life is driven by hope, inspiration, and motivation. In an industry where products are often seen as mere tools, with no emotional connection, I saw an opportunity to make a difference. I wanted to be the first to bring innovation to the agricultural and construction equipment world. Many tractors and combines looked like outdated boxes, much like the old designs I had seen in the early jet industry.
At CNH, my projects have included the AF10 flagship combine, the Tetra concept wheel loader, and the Zeus electric backhoe. Most recently, I worked on an advanced CAB prototype that was completed last year. Now, I’m involved in even more exciting projects that have the potential to change how farmers operate their vehicles. My motto has always been to bring game-changing innovations to the table.
Case IH AF10 Flagship Combine
The Tetra Concept
Zeus Electric Backhoe
Design for tractors and farm equipment isn’t something we hear about every day. How would you describe the role of design, and what excites you most about working in this field?
What excites me most is the challenge. Our development process is often conservative, which leaves room for many new opportunities. I enjoy the freedom to experiment with different approaches—creating something new often involves trial and error. When an idea sparks, we need to find a hands-on way to test it. I’m a bit old-fashioned in that sense. While algorithms are great for initial studies, I believe real-world testing is essential as the dynamics of the real world are different from what any software can simulate—there’s no way to replicate every situation in space and time, at least not yet. I value the ability to think freely and explore ideas.
For instance, if you sit in any tractor, regardless of brand, you’ll notice the layout is almost always the same—not much to set them apart. When I see something like that, I see an opportunity. My role in design is to find new approaches and bring fresh solutions to the table, but I always start by identifying real problems—not just focusing on style.
Designing for tractors and harvesters must be a world apart from cars and motorcycles. What are the biggest differences you meet, and how do they influence your creative process?
Designing any product comes with its challenges, especially when you're trying to create something new. Surprisingly, the hardest part isn’t the actual work—it’s convincing people. Everyone brings their own experiences and agendas, which often limit their way of thinking. When I worked in automotive design, we had a shared understanding that the product needed to appeal to consumers, so we were more aligned in our goals. The biggest difference I’ve noticed is in concept development. In the automotive world, there’s a clear consensus on the direction, with guiding principles for every function. This process is missing in the agricultural industry, but it’s something we’re working to improve.
I believe there’s a desire to adopt these practices, but the know-how isn’t quite there yet. I remember being mentored through these steps in the automotive industry, learning everything from the early stages to the final product, which gave us a strong foundation for our work. One of the biggest challenges here is distinguishing between what's truly subjective and what’s just an opinion. A clear concept that defines your market and objectives helps with that. When you have a well-defined concept, it becomes easier to protect and guide the project’s direction because you can measure whether a solution aligns with the goals. In an environment where different agendas are at play, having this clarity is the best way to control the outcome.
The AF10 harvester is a blend of car and motorcycle design elements. How did you decide which features from these industries would be most effective in transforming the harvester’s look and feel?
It all started with analyzing the problem. I see styling as a bit like being a magician—our job is to disguise the less appealing aspects of engineering. When I looked at combines across the industry, it was clear they were purely functional—boxy, heavy, and similar in design to buses or tractor-trailers. For the AF10, I wanted to break away from that typical look. I aimed for a design that was dynamic and lightweight, the opposite of what’s usually seen. Given the engineering constraints, I drew inspiration from origami to achieve this.
Motorcycles, despite being smaller, have vertical proportions that are visually striking, with a focus on the fairing. In contrast, cars use wide, low stances and brand-defining features like the front and rear. The AF10, however, presented a unique challenge. Some areas had a panel depth of just 40 to 80mm, and the machine stood as tall as a person. Trying to give it a sculpted, masculine look—common in car design—was impossible without creating washed-out shapes.
This is where the influence of motorcycles and origami came in. By incorporating purposeful folds and breaks in the surfaces, I could create a more sculptural feel. For the rear of the AF10, I applied automotive styling principles, where we had more depth to work with and could emphasize those details. The main body still retained a dynamic gesture, and through this process, we created a new design language.
By using these techniques, we were able to shape a combination that didn’t just look like another boxy machine—it felt innovative, lightweight, and different from anything else in the industry.
How did you approach redesigning the large AF10 harvester, and how did origami-inspired folding techniques impact its look and functionality?
I’m always on the hunt for fresh, interesting ideas. I believe that by combining methods or drawing inspiration from different fields, you can create something entirely new. I like to think of it as "idea banking"—you never know when something you’ve learned can be applied to a different project.
With the AF10, the shallow panel depth was a big challenge, especially since the vertical height was as tall as a person's. That didn’t leave much room for curvature or shaping. This is where the origami concept came in. The folds in the design didn’t just add visual interest—they also helped strengthen the massive panels. The creases allowed us to add structure and sculptural detail, making the design both functional and visually striking.
The design of the Case IH AF10 has been described as iconic and timeless by the Red Dot Design Jury. In your opinion, what are the key design elements that make this harvester a standout in the agricultural sector, both now and for years to come?
I believe the AF10’s styling is a game-changer in the industry, not just in terms of functionality but especially in design. Today, I want to focus on the styling. This is the first combine that truly breaks away from the traditional look. We put in the time and effort to solve every engineering challenge that could have led to design compromises, like panel holes or flat surfaces. Each problem was addressed without sacrificing the overall design. Although we did lose a bit of proportional balance in one area (which I won’t reveal), you won’t find any parallel lines in the design, so it feels dynamic rather than static.
James Lee with the Harvester
The origami-inspired form is complex but executed with simplicity. It’s not overdone—it’s balanced. From the rear quarter view, where the side panel transitions into the back, the sculpted design really stands out and makes a bold statement. I believe this blend of complexity and simplicity gives it a timeless quality, and I’m confident that this design will remain relevant for the next 20 years.
Innovation in a market that isn’t consumer-focused, like agricultural machinery, is no small feat. How do you and your team push the boundaries of design to keep things fresh and forward-thinking?
This is a tough question because designers and engineers often have conflicting views. Many engineers think, "Why go the extra mile? It's just a functional machine." To encourage innovation, I collaborate closely with marketing professionals like Alan Forbes, who recognize that innovation is essential for staying competitive. This creates a strong case for pushing beyond the usual limits.
We’re fortunate to have visionary engineering leads like Raf Desmat and Tom Sommers in our European facilities. I truly value working with people who understand how to build things—they can visualize concepts in 3D, making communication easier. Unfortunately, not everyone we collaborate with has that ability, which can complicate things. It often requires creative explanations just to get ideas across.
Can you elaborate more on how do you collaborate with engineers to strike a balance between functionality and aesthetic appeal?
If you’re asking how I handle engineering change requests, it’s important to understand that our industry is still heavily engineering-driven. Think of it like a seesaw: on one end, you have design and innovation, and on the other, engineering often relies on the same conservative methods repeatedly. You can’t achieve true innovation by sticking to the same formulas. Early in my career, I learned that if engineering makes a mistake, design usually gets blamed. I believe in doing what’s right over simply trying to be liked. Being overly politically correct can sometimes lead to compromises that sacrifice the customer’s needs, resulting in products that no one feels proud of.
When engineers submit requests, I don’t accept them at face value; I ask for more context. Often, a cross-section only shows a single moment, leading to a narrow view. But when you consider the entire 3D picture, alternatives often emerge. Many issues can be resolved with deeper investigation, and I’ve noticed that some requests are based on hunches rather than solid data.
My approach is to dig deeper to identify the root cause of problems. To balance that seesaw, we need to rethink our problem-solving methods and explore thoroughly. Otherwise, we’re just putting a band-aid on the issue.
What advice would you give to someone who aspires to break into the world of tractors and agricultural machinery design?
This industry is full of new opportunities for creativity. Many current practices are still based on methods from 20 to 30 years ago, leading to a rather random, “Frankenstein” approach that leaves plenty of room for improvement. While farming is highly data-driven and demands a lot from software intelligence, we must harmonize all aspects of design. You can’t have a great-looking machine without a solid engine or a poor cabin experience.
It's important to remember that the enjoyable part of making concept sketches or brainstorming is only about 15% of the overall development process. After that fun stage comes the real challenge: bringing the ideas to life. It’s not just about signing off on a sketch; there’s a lot of hard work behind the scenes. Most people don’t see the effort that goes into creating a finished product, which highlights the true value of an experienced designer. They excel at problem-solving and keeping the project on track until the very end.
When interviewing students, I’ve heard some say, “If it’s not cars, I’m not interested.” While many may view the agriculture industry as unexciting, I believe it’s not inherently boring; it just needs someone bold enough to change that perception.
