Interviews with Meng Ling Chung

My design practice is rooted in craftsmanship, material exploration, and sculptural storytelling. I transform textiles into expressive forms through draping and handcraft techniques, creating work that bridges fashion, art, and innovation.

To me, design is the process of transforming ideas into meaningful experiences. It is where creativity, functionality, and craftsmanship come together to solve problems while creating emotional connections. Good design should not only serve a purpose, but also tell a story, evoke curiosity, and inspire people through thoughtful details and lasting value.

I enjoy designing concept-driven collections that combine original print development, textile experimentation, sculptural draping, and meticulous craftsmanship. I love creating whimsical yet thought-provoking worlds where every detail, from surface patterns to garment construction, contributes to a meaningful story.

My favorite design is Crash because it represents the balance between concept and craftsmanship that I strive for in my work. It challenged me to integrate original print design, sculptural draping, and couture techniques into a single narrative, making it one of my most meaningful and rewarding creations.

I feel most creative when I stop trying to control the outcome. Creativity begins when intuition takes over and materials are allowed to respond freely. In those moments, design becomes less about making and more about discovering something that was waiting to be revealed.

I focus on the harmony between concept, material, and craftsmanship. Every decision—from print development and textile selection to draping and construction—should support the story I want to tell. I believe the smallest details often have the greatest emotional impact.

When I design, I feel a balance of curiosity, joy, and quiet anticipation. Every project begins with uncertainty, but through experimentation and craftsmanship, ideas gradually reveal themselves. The moment a concept finally comes to life is both deeply rewarding and endlessly inspiring.

When a design is finally realized, I feel a quiet sense of wonder. Seeing an idea become something tangible reminds me that imagination alone is never enough—it is patience, craftsmanship, and countless thoughtful decisions that bring a vision to life.

A successful design is one that connects with people beyond its appearance. It should communicate an idea, evoke emotion, and remain memorable, while reflecting thoughtful craftsmanship and a clear purpose behind every detail.

I first look for a genuine point of view. A successful design reflects the designer's own perspective rather than following trends. When an idea is expressed with clarity, supported by thoughtful craftsmanship, the design naturally becomes memorable.

I believe designers have the responsibility to create with intention. Beyond solving problems or creating beauty, we should preserve craftsmanship, encourage thoughtful consumption, and inspire people to see the world from new perspectives. Meaningful design should create lasting value—for both people and culture.

I think design is becoming more connected across different fields. Technology is opening up new possibilities, but craftsmanship and human creativity will always remain important. In the future, I hope to see design that not only embraces innovation but also preserves culture, tells meaningful stories, and creates lasting value.

For my next exhibition, I hope to explore the beauty of traditional Chinese craftsmanship through a contemporary lens. Inspired by Chinese ink painting, I want to create an immersive exhibition where fashion, textiles, and art come together to celebrate cultural heritage in a new way.

My inspiration comes from many places, especially nature, architecture, traditional Chinese art, and craftsmanship. I stay creative by observing the world with curiosity, traveling, visiting museums, and experimenting with materials. Every new experience has the potential to become the starting point of a new design.

I would describe my style as sculptural, whimsical, and concept-driven. I enjoy combining original prints, textile experimentation, and draping to transform ideas into wearable forms. My approach always begins with a story, allowing materials and craftsmanship to shape the design naturally throughout the creative process.

Every project begins with curiosity. I start by researching and collecting visual references, then explore ideas through sketching, print development, textile experimentation, and draping. The process is highly hands-on, allowing each material to shape the design as it evolves.

My favorite design pieces at home include my collection of handcrafted tiles, a papier-mâché solar system hanging from my ceiling, and pressed flowers that I made myself. I also treasure art books and handmade ceramics. Each object reminds me that beauty can be found in craftsmanship, curiosity, and the stories behind everyday things.

Stay curious and be patient with your creative journey. Don't rush to find your style—instead, keep exploring, experimenting, and learning. Your unique voice will naturally develop through the experiences, mistakes, and discoveries you make along the way.

Stay curious and let the concept lead the process. I believe the strongest designs are created when every decision is guided by purpose rather than trends.

Curiosity is the most important skill for any designer. It encourages continuous learning, experimentation, and new ways of thinking. Combined with strong craftsmanship, observation, and problem-solving, it allows designers to create work that is both meaningful and original.

The question I hear most often is, "How did you make this?" People are often curious about the craftsmanship and techniques behind my work, which gives me the opportunity to share the value of experimentation, patience, and handmade processes.

Working in couture has been the most influential experience in my career. It strengthened my technical skills, taught me the value of collaboration, and deepened my appreciation for craftsmanship. It continues to shape the way I approach every design today.

I enjoy design work that tells a story and invites people to see familiar things in a new way. The process of turning an idea into something tangible through materials and craftsmanship is what inspires me the most.

My goal is to continue creating concept-driven fashion that bridges craftsmanship, art, and culture. I hope to develop my own collections, present exhibitions inspired by traditional Chinese art, and share my work with audiences around the world while continuing to grow as a designer.

I'm currently developing a new body of work in collaboration with a traditional Chinese ink painting artist. The project explores how the expressive language of ink painting can be translated into contemporary fashion through textiles, print development, and sculptural craftsmanship. I'm excited to share more when it's ready.

People can reach me through my website and social media, where I regularly share my latest projects and creative journey. I always enjoy connecting with fellow designers, collaborators, and anyone interested in my work.

The most challenging part was translating something completely accidental into something intentional. The prints were not digitally designed to imitate glitches—they were created from actual photographs that became corrupted after my computer crashed. Images that once contained personal memories, research, and years of creative work suddenly transformed into fragmented blocks of color and distorted patterns. It was both shocking and strangely beautiful.Instead of trying to restore the damaged files, I decided to work with them. I treated these corrupted images as the starting point of the collection, allowing the unexpected patterns to become original textile prints. The challenge was then to preserve their raw, unpredictable character while adapting them to the three-dimensional structure of a garment. Every seam, drape, and silhouette had to be carefully considered so the distortion felt like a natural part of the design rather than simply a printed surface.Looking back, the process changed my perspective. What first felt like loss gradually became a new form of creation. It reminded me that even unexpected failures can reveal possibilities that could never be planned.

Unlike a traditional fashion collection, the color palette of Crash was not intentionally planned from the beginning. It emerged naturally from actual image corruption after my computer crashed. Family photos, research images, and personal memories were transformed into unexpected blocks of color and fragmented visual patterns. Those distorted files became the foundation of the collection's textile prints.My role was not to invent the colors, but to understand them. I carefully selected and refined the corrupted images while preserving their unpredictable character. Although the combinations often appeared chaotic, I discovered that they carried their own visual rhythm and balance. Instead of correcting the "errors," I embraced them as part of the design language.Maintaining print quality across the collection required close collaboration with textile printers and multiple rounds of color testing. Because the original files contained subtle gradients, digital noise, and fragmented pixels, it was important to preserve these details without losing their clarity when printed on fabric. Every sample was carefully adjusted until the garments retained the emotional impact of the original corrupted images while remaining visually cohesive as a collection.

Creating Crash changed the way I think about memory. Before this experience, I assumed that digital files were permanent—that photographs, sketches, and years of creative work would always be there when I needed them. When my computer crashed, I realized how fragile digital memory can be. Files that I thought were safely preserved suddenly became unreadable, while others transformed into abstract images that barely resembled their original form.At the same time, I began thinking about human memory. Unlike digital storage, our memories are never perfectly preserved. Every time we remember something, we reshape it through new experiences and emotions. In that sense, the corrupted images felt strangely familiar. They no longer documented reality, but they still carried traces of it, just as our memories often do.This realization changed the way I approach creative work. Instead of seeing unexpected accidents as failures, I began to see them as another stage of transformation. Crash taught me that creation is not only about preserving the past exactly as it was, but also about discovering new meaning through change. Sometimes what appears to be lost is simply waiting to be understood in a different way.

The process began with a large archive of corrupted digital photographs rather than a predetermined print design. After my computer crashed, I carefully examined hundreds of damaged images, looking beyond the data loss to discover unexpected compositions, color relationships, and fragmented details. Instead of seeing them as broken files, I treated them as raw visual material.From there, I cropped and reorganized selected fragments into new textile prints. The challenge was not simply arranging beautiful patterns, but understanding how each fragment would interact with the human body. I considered scale, movement, and proportion throughout the design process, allowing the placement of each print to enhance the garment's silhouette rather than compete with it.I often moved fragments repeatedly, adjusting their position as the garments evolved through draping. The final composition was therefore shaped by both digital experimentation and physical garment construction. My goal was to create designs where the fragmented imagery felt naturally integrated with the body, transforming accidental digital destruction into a cohesive visual language.

Developing the patterns was one of the most challenging and rewarding parts of the project. The rectangular geometry of the prints naturally suggested flat, rigid forms, while the human body is organic, curved, and constantly in motion. My challenge was to find a balance where these two visual languages could coexist without one overpowering the other.Through repeated pattern development and countless fittings, I realized that pattern making is not simply a technical step—it is a creative language of its own. Even a small adjustment in seam placement, proportion, or volume could completely change how the rectangular motifs interacted with the body. Rather than forcing the body to fit the geometry, I gradually adapted the geometry to complement the body's movement and silhouette.This process taught me that structure and softness do not have to be opposites. By allowing rigid forms and fluid draping to work together, the garments became more dynamic and expressive. The final collection reflects this balance, where digital precision and human movement exist in dialogue rather than in conflict.

I don't hope Crash encourages people to fear technology. Instead, I hope it invites them to reflect on how deeply technology has become intertwined with our creative lives. Digital tools have transformed the way we design, communicate, and preserve our work, but they have also created an illusion that everything can be stored safely forever.My own experience reminded me that digital archives can disappear unexpectedly, while the knowledge we carry in our hands, our memories, and our craftsmanship is far more resilient. A handmade skill cannot simply be recovered by restoring a backup file.I hope Crash encourages conversations about balance rather than opposition. Technology should continue to expand creative possibilities, but it should never replace the value of human imagination, cultural knowledge, and traditional craftsmanship. Fashion has always been a dialogue between innovation and heritage, and I believe its future depends on protecting both.

Developing Crash between Beijing and Taiwan in 2020 naturally shaped the way I approached the project. The uncertainty of that period made me spend more time observing, reflecting, and working independently. As the world became increasingly dependent on digital communication, I found myself thinking more deeply about our relationship with technology—not only as a creative tool, but also as something we often take for granted.Ironically, while the world relied on digital technology more than ever, I experienced the loss of my own digital archive through a computer crash. That experience transformed the collection from a visual exploration into a personal reflection on memory, preservation, and impermanence. It made me realize how fragile digital information can be, despite our confidence in it.Working between two places also influenced my creative process. The distance encouraged me to become more resourceful and adaptable, while giving me space to reflect on the value of craftsmanship and cultural memory. Looking back, the circumstances of 2020 did not define Crash, but they amplified the questions that the collection was already asking: what do we preserve, what do we lose, and what truly endures beyond technology?

My advice is not to search for accidents, but to stay open to them. Some of the most meaningful ideas come from moments we never planned. When my computer crashed, my first reaction was frustration and disappointment. It took time before I could look at the corrupted images with curiosity instead of loss.I believe creativity often begins when we stop trying to control every outcome. Unexpected events—whether they are technological failures, material experiments, or mistakes in the studio—can reveal possibilities we would never have imagined on our own. Rather than asking how to recreate an accident, I encourage young designers to ask what they can learn from it.Innovation does not always come from inventing something completely new. Sometimes it comes from seeing familiar situations through a different perspective and having the courage to transform setbacks into opportunities for creation.

Creating Crash taught me that the most meaningful ideas often emerge from unexpected experiences. Receiving recognition through the A' Design Award has given me the confidence to continue developing concept-driven collections that combine craftsmanship with contemporary narratives.While Crash explored the relationship between technology, memory, and human creativity, my future work will expand into cultural heritage and traditional craftsmanship. I am currently developing projects inspired by Chinese ink painting, exploring how its philosophy, movement, and visual language can be translated into contemporary fashion. Rather than separating tradition from innovation, I hope to create collections that allow them to evolve together.Looking ahead, I want every collection to begin with a meaningful question. Whether the inspiration comes from technology, culture, or nature, my goal is always the same—to create work that encourages curiosity, preserves craftsmanship, and offers people a new way of seeing the world.