Interviews with Yen Chang Chen

My path to becoming a designer did not begin with technology or advertising. It began with art.

As a child, I was fascinated by drawing and visual expression. Long before I knew what design was, I spent years studying traditional fine arts, including drawing, watercolor painting, printmaking, calligraphy, seal engraving, traditional Chinese landscape painting, and flower-and-bird painting. During high school, I attended an art school where I was exposed not only to visual arts but also to literature, philosophy, and classical Chinese poetry. These experiences taught me that creativity is not simply about making beautiful images—it is about understanding culture, emotions, stories, and human experiences.

At that time, I did not necessarily dream of becoming a designer. In fact, I was simply curious about the world and enjoyed observing how people communicated ideas and emotions through images, words, and symbols. Looking back, I realize that curiosity became the foundation of everything that followed.

When I entered university and began studying design, I discovered something that immediately captivated me: design could combine art, communication, culture, and storytelling. Unlike traditional fine arts, which often focus on personal expression, design offered an opportunity to create experiences that could directly connect with other people. I became fascinated by the idea that a visual concept, a story, or a creative idea could influence how people think, feel, and interact with the world around them.

One of the defining moments occurred during my university years when I designed a poster about career planning and the future of university students. The project won First Prize, and the organizing institution adopted both my visual design and copywriting for a large-scale promotional campaign across campus media. For the first time, I experienced the power of design beyond the classroom. I saw how an idea that existed only in my imagination could reach thousands of people and create meaningful impact. That experience convinced me that design was the path I wanted to pursue.

After graduation, I entered the advertising industry and gradually progressed from designer to art director, executive creative director, chief creative officer, and eventually general manager. Along the way, I witnessed the transformation of the creative industry from traditional print production to digital media, social platforms, and artificial intelligence. Yet despite all these changes, my motivation has remained remarkably consistent.

What continues to drive me is the belief that design is a form of storytelling. It allows us to transform observations into ideas, ideas into experiences, and experiences into meaningful human connections. Whether I am creating a campaign, a cultural project, a public exhibition, or teaching the next generation of designers, I am ultimately doing the same thing: helping people see the world with new eyes.

Perhaps that is why I became a designer. Not because I wanted to create objects, but because I wanted to create stories, experiences, and moments of discovery that bring people closer to one another and to the world around them.

When approaching a new project, I always begin with three priorities: **observation, storytelling, and participation.**

**Observation** is the foundation of my creative process. Before developing concepts or visual solutions, I spend time understanding people, culture, behaviors, and the environment surrounding a project. Many of my ideas originate from ordinary moments—a handwritten sign in a small alleyway, a conversation with a stranger, a local tradition, or a social phenomenon that most people overlook. I believe meaningful design begins not with making, but with noticing.

The second priority is **storytelling**. Regardless of whether I am designing an advertising campaign, cultural project, exhibition, public installation, or educational experience, I always search for the story behind the idea. Visuals, technology, and media are important, but they are ultimately vehicles for communication. A strong story gives a project purpose, emotion, and memorability. Before asking what something should look like, I first ask what story it should tell.

The third priority is **participation**. I rarely see audiences as passive viewers. Instead, I enjoy creating opportunities for people to engage, interact, contribute, or become part of the experience. Whether through public installations, social campaigns, educational projects, or cultural initiatives, I believe design becomes more meaningful when people actively participate in the story.

In terms of technique, I combine both traditional and contemporary approaches. Many ideas still begin with sketches, handwritten notes, conversations, and rough concepts developed on paper. My background in calligraphy, traditional Chinese painting, and fine arts continues to influence the way I think about composition, rhythm, and visual expression.

At the same time, I actively embrace digital tools and emerging technologies. Throughout my career, I have experienced the evolution from manual production to digital media, social platforms, and artificial intelligence. Today, I use a combination of creative software, research tools, prototyping methods, and AI-assisted technologies when appropriate. However, I believe technology should support creativity rather than define it.

When developing interactive experiences or public installations, I often create prototypes, physical mock-ups, and real-world tests whenever possible. I enjoy seeing how people actually interact with an idea because meaningful insights often emerge from direct observation rather than simulations alone.

If there is one central principle that connects all of my projects, it is this:

**Design should help people see familiar things in unfamiliar ways.**

Whether I am working with culture, education, technology, advertising, or public experiences, my goal remains the same: to transform observation into stories, stories into participation, and participation into memorable human experiences.

The emotion I feel most often when designing is curiosity.

Almost every project begins with a question. Sometimes it emerges from a cultural observation, sometimes from a social phenomenon, and sometimes simply from a playful “What if?” What if a cloud could fly through a city? What if a Christmas tree could be inspired by bubble tea? What if people could physically experience the meaning of a forgotten Chinese character? These questions excite me because they open the door to possibilities that do not yet exist.

As a project develops, curiosity is often joined by another emotion: wonder. I enjoy discovering unexpected connections between culture, people, stories, and design. Some of the most rewarding moments happen when an idea that initially seems impossible gradually becomes real.

One particularly memorable experience was a Lunar New Year identity project for Yulon City, one of New Taipei City's most iconic commercial landmarks. Drawing upon my background in Chinese calligraphy, I designed a custom character that combined the Chinese characters for “Dragon” (龍) and “Prosperity” (隆) into a single visual symbol to celebrate the Year of the Dragon.

What made the project especially meaningful was watching the idea move far beyond my sketchbook. The design was applied across the exterior of the entire building and became part of the city's festive visual landscape. Even more remarkably, the renowned Taiwanese calligraphy master Chang Bing-Huang personally interpreted and wrote the character based on my design concept. As someone who began his creative journey through calligraphy and traditional Chinese art, seeing a contemporary design idea transformed into large-scale public expression through the hand of a respected calligraphy master was both humbling and deeply rewarding.

However, the greatest joy in design comes even later.

Many people assume that the happiest moment for a designer is when a project is completed. For me, the most fulfilling moment is when people interact with the work and make it their own. It is the moment when a child points at an installation with excitement, when visitors smile unexpectedly, when students discover confidence in their creativity, or when a cultural project helps someone see something familiar in a completely new way.

In many ways, I enjoy the journey more than the destination. The idea stage is exciting because it is full of possibilities. The development stage is rewarding because it requires collaboration and problem-solving. But the most meaningful stage is witnessing the human response. That is when design truly comes alive.

Perhaps the greatest pleasure I derive from design is the ability to transform imagination into reality. There is something magical about watching an idea that once existed only in your mind become an experience that other people can see, touch, participate in, and remember.

Even after more than twenty years in the creative industry, that feeling has never disappeared. Every project still feels a little like discovering a new world—and inviting others to explore it with me.

Looking back on my journey, I believe the most important influences on my work did not come from design itself.

Many of the skills that shaped me as a designer were developed long before I entered the design profession.

One of the most significant influences was my training in traditional Chinese arts. Before studying design, I spent years practicing calligraphy, seal engraving, landscape painting, flower-and-bird painting, drawing, and classical Chinese literature. These disciplines taught me patience, observation, composition, rhythm, and the importance of cultural context. More importantly, they taught me that every visual form carries meaning beyond its appearance.

Another important influence was storytelling. Throughout my career in advertising, I learned that people rarely remember information alone. They remember stories. This realization fundamentally changed the way I approach design. Whether I am creating a campaign, a public installation, an exhibition, or an educational project, I always begin by searching for the story behind the idea.

Observation has also been one of the most valuable skills in my creative life. I enjoy walking through old neighborhoods, exploring small alleyways, talking with ordinary people, and paying attention to things that others often overlook. Many of my projects—from vernacular calligraphy research to cultural initiatives inspired by internet language—began with simple observations of everyday life. I have learned that creativity often emerges from noticing what has always been there.

My years in the advertising industry provided another important lesson: empathy. Successful communication requires understanding how different people think, feel, and behave. Throughout my career, I have worked with government agencies, international brands, nonprofit organizations, educators, students, and local communities. Each project required me to step into someone else's world and understand their perspective before attempting to design for them.

Becoming an educator added yet another dimension to my design journey. Teaching constantly reminds me that creativity is not about having the right answers; it is about asking better questions. Working with students has helped me remain curious, open-minded, and willing to challenge my own assumptions.

If I had to identify the single greatest influence on my work, it would be curiosity. Curiosity has guided me from traditional Chinese art to advertising, from cultural design to education, and from analog tools to artificial intelligence. It continues to motivate me to explore new ideas, new technologies, and new ways of understanding people and culture.

Ultimately, my design journey has taught me that great design is not only about creating beautiful forms. It is about understanding people, culture, stories, and the world around us. The non-design skills that have shaped me most—observation, empathy, storytelling, curiosity, and cultural awareness—remain the foundation of everything I create today.

My growth path has been an ongoing journey of expanding perspectives.

I began with traditional Chinese arts, studying calligraphy, seal engraving, painting, and classical literature. Later, I entered the world of advertising and design, where I learned how creativity could influence communication, culture, and human behavior. Over time, my career evolved from designer to art director, executive creative director, chief creative officer, general manager, and eventually university educator.

Looking back, each stage taught me something different. Art taught me observation. Advertising taught me storytelling. Leadership taught me collaboration. Education taught me empathy. Together, these experiences gradually shaped the way I think about design today.

As I look toward the future, I find myself increasingly interested in the intersection of culture, education, technology, and human creativity. I believe one of the most important challenges of our time is ensuring that technology enhances human imagination rather than replacing it. This has become a central theme in both my professional practice and my teaching.

One of my goals is to continue helping young designers develop creative confidence in the age of artificial intelligence. While AI can generate content at extraordinary speed, I believe curiosity, cultural understanding, empathy, and storytelling will become even more valuable in the future. I hope to contribute to a new generation of designers who are not only technically capable, but also deeply human.

I am also passionate about preserving and reinterpreting cultural heritage through contemporary design. Many of my recent projects have explored Taiwanese vernacular culture, handwritten visual language, internet culture, and traditional Chinese characters. I believe culture should not remain trapped in museums or archives; it should continue to evolve and engage new audiences.

If I were to describe my dream design project, it would be the creation of a large-scale interactive cultural experience that combines design, education, technology, and storytelling. One example is a project I am currently developing around rare and forgotten Chinese characters. Rather than asking people to simply read these characters, I want them to physically experience their meanings through interactive installations, participation, and play.

My dream is to create a cultural space where visitors of all ages can explore language, history, imagination, and creativity through direct experience. I would love to see such a project travel internationally and demonstrate how traditional culture can be transformed into contemporary and engaging experiences.

As for how I would like to be remembered, I hope people will not remember me simply as a designer, educator, or creative director. Instead, I hope they remember me as someone who helped people see familiar things in unfamiliar ways.

If my work can inspire curiosity, encourage creativity, preserve culture, and help people discover new perspectives, I believe that would be a meaningful legacy.

After all, design is not only about creating objects. It is about creating new ways of seeing the world.

One piece of advice I often share with young designers is this:

**Before becoming a better designer, become a more interesting person.**

Early in my career, I believed success depended on mastering technical skills. I spent countless hours learning software, design techniques, production methods, and creative execution. Those skills were certainly important, but over time I discovered that technical expertise alone is not enough.

Throughout my career, I have witnessed the industry transform repeatedly—from traditional manual production to digital media, websites, social platforms, short-form video, and now artificial intelligence. Every technological revolution created new tools, and every generation believed those tools would change everything. Yet the designers who continued to thrive were rarely those who simply mastered software. They were the ones who remained curious about people, culture, and the world around them.

If there is one thing I would caution young designers about, it is becoming too focused on tools and trends. Software will change. Platforms will change. Technology will change. What remains valuable are observation, empathy, storytelling, cultural awareness, and imagination.

I also encourage young designers to explore interests beyond design itself. Read literature. Listen to music. Visit museums. Talk with people from different backgrounds. Travel when possible. Learn about history, psychology, philosophy, and culture. Some of the most important lessons in my creative career came from places completely unrelated to design.

Another lesson I learned is not to fear failure. Many of my favorite projects were preceded by ideas that did not work, proposals that were rejected, and experiments that failed. Creativity is not a straight path. Every unsuccessful attempt teaches you something that cannot be learned from success alone.

One of the best pieces of advice I ever received was to stay curious. Curiosity has guided every stage of my journey—from traditional Chinese art to advertising, from creative leadership to education, and now into the age of artificial intelligence. Curiosity continues to teach me more than any software ever could.

I grow my knowledge by remaining a student. I learn from books, cities, conversations, cultural observations, my students, and even from people outside the design profession. Some of my most valuable inspirations have come from shop owners, taxi drivers, street vendors, and ordinary people whose stories rarely appear in design textbooks.

As artificial intelligence becomes increasingly powerful, I believe the future belongs to designers who are deeply human. AI can generate images, layouts, and endless variations, but it cannot replace lived experience, empathy, humor, curiosity, or cultural understanding.

So if I could leave young designers with one final piece of advice, it would be this:

**Do not spend your entire life learning tools while forgetting to learn about people.**

The world is your greatest design school. Pay attention to it.

And remember: there are no boring things in the world, only boring ways of looking at them.

If I could offer advice to fellow designers, artists, and architects, it would be this:

**Never confuse your tools with your purpose.**

Throughout my career, I have witnessed countless technological shifts—from manual production and traditional advertising to digital media, social platforms, and artificial intelligence. Every new generation of tools arrives with great excitement, and every generation believes those tools will redefine creativity.

The truth is that tools matter, but they are not the source of creativity.

The most successful creative professionals I have met were never defined by the software they used. They were defined by their ability to observe, interpret, question, and connect ideas in meaningful ways.

Another principle I strongly believe in is the importance of crossing disciplines. Some of the most interesting ideas emerge at the intersection of different fields. My own work has been shaped by traditional Chinese calligraphy, fine arts, literature, advertising, cultural studies, education, technology, and social innovation. Creativity grows when we allow ourselves to learn from worlds beyond our own profession.

I would also encourage experienced designers not to become prisoners of their success. One of the greatest risks in any creative career is repeating what worked before. Awards, recognition, and professional achievements can sometimes create comfort, but creativity thrives on curiosity rather than certainty. The moment we believe we already know the answers is often the moment we stop growing.

Another lesson I have learned is that design is ultimately about people. Whether we are creating products, brands, buildings, exhibitions, services, or digital experiences, our work exists within human lives. The more we understand people, the more meaningful our work becomes.

In recent years, many professionals have asked me about artificial intelligence. My answer is always the same: technology will continue to evolve, but human imagination remains irreplaceable. AI can generate content, but it cannot replace lived experience, cultural memory, empathy, humor, or the ability to understand why something matters.

If there is one common mistake I see across creative industries, it is becoming so focused on production that we stop paying attention to the world around us. Great ideas rarely emerge from staring at a screen all day. They emerge from conversations, observations, travel, culture, books, failures, relationships, and everyday experiences.

Perhaps the most valuable professional advice I can offer is this:

**Protect your curiosity.**

Curiosity is the source of innovation, creativity, and lifelong growth. It is far more valuable than any software, trend, or technology because it allows us to continue discovering new possibilities throughout our careers.

As the French writer Marcel Proust famously observed:

*"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes."*

I believe the most successful designers are not those who constantly chase what is new. They are the ones who continue finding new ways to see.

No two days are ever exactly the same, which is one of the reasons I still enjoy what I do after more than two decades in the creative industry.

Most mornings begin quietly. Before checking emails or attending meetings, I usually spend some time reading, thinking, or reviewing ongoing projects. Depending on the day, I might be preparing lectures, reviewing student work, reading research papers, developing creative concepts, or planning cultural and design projects.

Because I work across education, research, and professional practice, I often move between different roles throughout a single day. One moment I may be teaching university students about creativity and design thinking, the next I may be discussing a campaign strategy with a client, reviewing a cultural project, or working on research related to artificial intelligence and creativity.

I do not spend much time chasing design trends. Instead, I am more interested in observing people and culture. Many of my ideas come from everyday life rather than design websites. I enjoy walking through small alleyways, noticing handwritten signs, visiting local markets, listening to conversations, and observing how people interact with the world around them. These moments often inspire me more than any design publication.

Music is also an important part of my daily routine. I often listen to jazz while working because it reminds me that creativity requires both structure and improvisation. A good jazz performance feels remarkably similar to a successful design process: disciplined enough to create harmony, yet flexible enough to allow unexpected discoveries.

What makes me happiest during an ordinary workday is often something very small. It could be a conversation that sparks a new idea, an unexpected cultural observation, a student's breakthrough moment, or simply discovering a story hidden within something that most people would overlook.

One of my favorite moments occurs when a project suddenly comes together. After weeks or months of exploration, there is often a point where the idea, the story, and the execution finally align. That moment never loses its excitement.

At the end of the day, I often find myself reflecting on what I observed, learned, or discovered. In many ways, my daily routine is less about managing projects and more about collecting stories, ideas, and experiences.

Perhaps that is why I still enjoy design so much. Every day offers an opportunity to learn something new, meet someone interesting, or see the world from a slightly different perspective.

I pay attention to design trends, but I try not to chase them.

Throughout my career, I have witnessed countless trends come and go. I have experienced the rise of print advertising, television commercials, Flash websites, digital campaigns, social media, influencer marketing, short-form video, and now artificial intelligence. Every era introduces new tools, aesthetics, and ways of communication. Some become influential, while others disappear surprisingly quickly.

For this reason, I believe it is important for designers to understand trends without becoming dependent on them.

Trends can be useful because they reflect changes in technology, society, culture, and consumer behavior. They help us understand how people communicate, what captures attention, and how new platforms influence creativity. As a designer and educator, I actively observe these changes because they provide valuable insights into the evolving relationship between people and media.

However, I rarely begin a project by asking, “What is fashionable right now?” Instead, I usually ask, “What story deserves to be told?” and “Why should people care?”

In my experience, the most memorable designs are not those that perfectly follow trends. They are the ones that connect with people on a deeper cultural or emotional level. A trend may last a season, but a meaningful idea can remain relevant for years.

Perhaps this perspective comes from my background. Before becoming a designer, I studied calligraphy, traditional Chinese painting, classical literature, and visual arts. These disciplines taught me that good design is not simply about what is new—it is about what is meaningful. Even today, many of my projects draw inspiration from cultural heritage, everyday life, handwritten signs, local stories, and human experiences rather than contemporary aesthetics alone.

When I look for inspiration, I rarely limit myself to design sources. I find inspiration in conversations, cities, small alleyways, books, music, museums, cultural traditions, and ordinary people. Some of my most successful projects originated from internet culture, local customs, forgotten Chinese characters, or observations that most people would consider insignificant.

Ironically, I often find that the best way to stay ahead of trends is not to focus on trends at all.

Instead, I focus on people.

Technology changes.

Platforms change.

Visual styles change.

Human curiosity, emotions, dreams, fears, and stories remain remarkably constant.

As a result, my goal is not to create work that feels fashionable for a moment, but work that remains meaningful long after the trend has disappeared.

As I often tell my students, trends may help you attract attention, but stories are what people remember.

People often ask whether good design is beautiful, functional, innovative, or technologically advanced.

While all of these qualities can be important, I believe good design begins with something much simpler:

**Good design makes people feel something.**

Throughout my career, I have worked on advertising campaigns, public installations, cultural projects, educational initiatives, and social design programs. The projects that remain in people's memories are rarely the ones with the most sophisticated technology or the most fashionable aesthetics. They are the ones that create an emotional connection.

When evaluating a project, I usually begin with a simple question:

**Does it matter to people?**

If the answer is no, even the most visually impressive design will eventually be forgotten.

For me, good design exists at the intersection of meaning, emotion, and purpose. It should communicate clearly, solve a problem, or create an experience that improves the way people understand, feel, or interact with the world around them.

One of the most important criteria I use is memorability. After experiencing a project, will people remember it a week later? A month later? Years later? The designs that leave lasting impressions are usually those that connect with human emotions, cultural experiences, or personal memories.

Another important quality is authenticity. I believe people are remarkably good at recognizing whether a project is genuine or merely trying to attract attention. The strongest designs often emerge from real observations, meaningful stories, and honest human experiences.

If there is one common mistake I see, it is focusing too much on appearance while forgetting purpose. Beautiful visuals can attract attention, but they cannot sustain attention by themselves. Design should always have a reason for existing beyond decoration.

This belief has guided many of my projects. Whether transforming a bubble tea cup into a city-wide Christmas experience, exploring internet language as cultural heritage, or creating collaborative projects with adults with Down syndrome, my goal has always been the same: to create something that people can emotionally connect with.

Perhaps the simplest way I can define good design is this:

**Good design helps people see, feel, or understand something differently than they did before.**

When a project creates that moment of discovery, curiosity, empathy, or wonder, I know it is moving in the right direction.

As a designer, that moment is usually my signal that the work has succeeded.

This is one of the most difficult questions in design because, in many ways, a design is never truly finished.

Given enough time, I can almost always find something to refine, simplify, improve, or rethink. New technologies emerge, audiences change, cultures evolve, and our own perspectives grow over time. Design is a living process rather than a fixed destination.

However, I have learned that perfection is not the goal.

For me, a design is ready when the idea, the story, and the experience are aligned.

In the early stages of a project, there are usually many possibilities competing for attention. As the design develops, the concept gradually becomes clearer. Eventually there comes a moment when every element supports the same purpose, and nothing feels unnecessary. That is often when I know the design is ready to move forward.

Another important indicator is simplicity. Not simplicity in terms of appearance, but simplicity in terms of intention. When a project clearly communicates what it wants to say without requiring excessive explanation, it is usually approaching completion.

I also pay close attention to people. Whether I am designing a campaign, an exhibition, a cultural project, or an educational experience, I observe how people respond. Do they understand it? Do they engage with it? Do they smile, become curious, reflect, or participate? Design only becomes meaningful when it enters the lives of other people.

One lesson I learned from years in advertising is that a project does not need to be perfect to create impact. Sometimes the pursuit of perfection can delay ideas that are already capable of making a difference. At some point, every designer must have the courage to release the work and allow it to belong to the audience.

As for success, I rarely measure it only through awards, numbers, or recognition. Those things are certainly encouraging, but they are not the whole story.

A project becomes successful when it creates a meaningful human response.

When a city embraces an installation as part of its identity.

When visitors remember an experience long after they leave.

When students gain confidence through creativity.

When a cultural project helps people rediscover something they had forgotten.

Those moments tell me the design has achieved its purpose.

Perhaps the simplest way I can describe it is this:

**A design is ready when it no longer needs me to explain it.**

When the story can stand on its own, when people begin to interpret it, experience it, and make it part of their own lives, I know it is time to let it go.

That is usually the moment I stop designing and start listening.

If I had to choose one project that best represents my work and design philosophy, it would be **The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup**.

What makes this project special is not its scale, budget, or visibility, but the way it brought together culture, language, participation, humor, and social reflection into a single experience.

The project began with a simple observation. In Taiwan, the phrase “Kaobei” is widely used in online conversations, social media, and everyday communication. It often appears as a humorous expression of frustration, complaint, surprise, or emotional release. At the same time, Taiwan has a long-standing religious tradition involving “Jiaobei,” the wooden divination blocks used in temples to seek guidance from the gods.

The similarity between these two words fascinated me.

One belongs to digital culture.

The other belongs to traditional culture.

One represents contemporary expression.

The other represents historical belief.

I began to wonder: What would happen if these two worlds could meet?

This question became the foundation of The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup.

Rather than treating internet language as something superficial or disposable, the project explored how digital expressions can become part of contemporary cultural identity. By transforming the familiar ritual of temple divination into a playful and participatory cultural experience, the project encouraged people to reflect on how communication evolves across generations.

The design process involved extensive cultural research, storytelling development, visual identity design, public participation planning, and social media engagement. One of the greatest challenges was finding the right balance between humor and respect. The project needed to remain playful and accessible while also acknowledging the cultural traditions that inspired it.

What makes me most proud is the public response. Thousands of people participated, shared their experiences, and contributed to the conversation. Many visitors told us that the project helped them see both internet culture and traditional culture in a completely different way.

This outcome reflects a principle that has guided much of my work:

**Design should help people see familiar things in unfamiliar ways.**

The project also became an important milestone in my career because it brought together many themes that I care deeply about—culture, participation, storytelling, education, humor, and human connection.

Receiving international recognition for the project, including the Golden A' Design Award, was certainly an honor. However, the most meaningful achievement was seeing people engage with the work, laugh together, reflect on their culture, and discover new perspectives.

Looking back, I do not think The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup is my biggest project because it received awards.

I believe it is my biggest project because it successfully transformed an everyday cultural phenomenon into a shared experience that connected tradition, technology, and people.

In many ways, it represents everything I love about design.

If I could spend an afternoon talking with any designer from history, I would choose **Walter Gropius**, the founder of the Bauhaus.

Throughout my career, the Bauhaus philosophy has been one of the most influential ideas shaping my understanding of design. Gropius believed that art, craft, technology, and everyday life should not exist as separate disciplines. Instead, they should work together to improve how people live, communicate, and experience the world.

Even though Bauhaus was founded more than a century ago, I believe its ideas are more relevant than ever. Today we live in an age of artificial intelligence, digital platforms, immersive technologies, and rapid cultural change. Yet the challenge remains the same: how do we use technology without losing our humanity? How do we create meaningful experiences rather than simply producing more content?

These are questions I would love to discuss with Gropius.

Beyond Walter Gropius, I have great admiration for designers such as **Paul Rand**, whose work demonstrated the power of simplicity and conceptual thinking, and **Isamu Noguchi**, whose ability to move seamlessly between sculpture, landscape, architecture, and product design continues to inspire me. I am fascinated by creative individuals who refuse to be confined by disciplinary boundaries.

What connects all of these figures is not a particular visual style, but a way of thinking. They understood that design is not merely about aesthetics. It is about shaping relationships between people, culture, technology, and society.

If I were asked who created the greatest impact on our understanding of design, I would still return to Walter Gropius and the Bauhaus movement. Their influence can be seen everywhere—from architecture and graphic design to education, interaction design, and even contemporary approaches to innovation.

Perhaps what I admire most is that Bauhaus was never simply a style. It was a vision for how creativity could improve everyday life.

More than a century later, that vision continues to guide my own work as a designer, educator, and creative leader.

If I had the opportunity to ask Walter Gropius a single question, it would be this:

**"In the age of artificial intelligence, how would Bauhaus redefine the relationship between technology and humanity?"**

I suspect his answer would still inspire designers for another hundred years.

My lifestyle is closely connected to observation, culture, and curiosity.

Although I work as a designer, educator, researcher, and creative director, many of my most valuable inspirations come from ordinary moments rather than professional environments. I enjoy walking through small alleyways, visiting local markets, observing handwritten signs, talking with people from different backgrounds, and discovering stories hidden within everyday life. These experiences continually remind me that creativity is not something separate from life—it is woven into life itself.

Taiwan has had a profound influence on my work. It is a place where traditional beliefs, contemporary technology, local culture, global influences, street culture, and digital culture coexist in fascinating ways. Many of my projects, including cultural exhibitions, vernacular typography research, and public installations, were inspired by uniquely Taiwanese experiences. I believe culture is one of the richest sources of creativity because it reflects how people live, communicate, celebrate, and dream.

Music is also an important part of my creative process, especially jazz. I often listen to jazz while working because I admire its balance between structure and improvisation. In many ways, a successful jazz performance resembles the design process: there is a framework, but there is also room for experimentation, intuition, and unexpected discoveries.

One of my favorite cities is Taipei. I appreciate its unique blend of tradition and modernity. Within a single day, you can encounter centuries-old temples, contemporary architecture, bustling night markets, innovative technology companies, and vibrant creative communities. I find this coexistence of different eras and perspectives deeply inspiring. At the same time, I am equally inspired by smaller towns and forgotten neighborhoods, where local stories often reveal themselves in unexpected ways.

Today, I am particularly interested in projects that connect culture, education, and technology. One project I am currently developing explores rare and forgotten Chinese characters through interactive installations that allow visitors to experience meanings through participation rather than memorization. The project reflects my ongoing interest in transforming cultural heritage into contemporary experiences.

I believe good design is essential for the advancement of society because design shapes how people understand the world. Good design can make information clearer, experiences more meaningful, communities more connected, and cultures more accessible. At its best, design helps people see possibilities that previously seemed invisible.

In my own life, design has taught me to pay attention to small details. It has encouraged me to observe more carefully, listen more deeply, and remain curious about people and their stories. These may seem like small changes, but over time they have profoundly influenced how I work, teach, and live.

Perhaps that is why I see design not simply as a profession, but as a way of looking at the world.

It encourages us to find meaning in ordinary things, beauty in unexpected places, and stories in the moments that most people pass by without noticing.

My work culture is built around three principles: **curiosity, collaboration, and trust.**

Throughout my career, I have worked as a designer, creative director, chief creative officer, general manager, and university educator. These different roles have taught me that successful creative work is rarely the result of a single talented individual. Instead, it emerges when talented people are given the freedom, trust, and support to contribute their best ideas.

People often ask whether I work alone or with teams. The answer is both. Most ideas begin with personal observation and reflection, but meaningful projects almost always require collaboration. Advertising campaigns, cultural initiatives, public exhibitions, educational programs, and social innovation projects involve many different perspectives and areas of expertise. I enjoy bringing those perspectives together and creating environments where creativity can flourish.

As a leader, I do not believe in controlling every detail. Instead, I try to create a culture where people feel comfortable sharing ideas, asking questions, and challenging assumptions. Some of the best ideas I have encountered came from unexpected places—a student, a junior designer, a technician, a client, or even a casual conversation with someone outside the creative industry.

When selecting collaborators or business partners, I rarely focus only on technical skills. Skills can be learned. What I value most are curiosity, integrity, responsibility, empathy, and a willingness to keep learning. I enjoy working with people who are passionate about ideas, open to different perspectives, and genuinely interested in understanding the people they are designing for.

Another quality I highly appreciate is a sense of humor. Creativity requires experimentation, and experimentation inevitably involves mistakes. Teams that can laugh, learn, and move forward together tend to produce more innovative work than teams that are afraid of failure.

If there is one principle that defines my professional culture, it is this:

**Ideas may begin alone, but great design grows together.**

The biggest challenge in my profession today is not technology—it is maintaining humanity while technology evolves at extraordinary speed. Artificial intelligence can generate content, automate tasks, and accelerate production, but it cannot replace curiosity, empathy, cultural understanding, or human imagination. These qualities remain essential to meaningful design.

My responsibilities extend beyond creating projects. I see my role as helping people connect ideas, cultures, technologies, and communities. Whether I am working with clients, leading creative teams, or teaching university students, my goal is always the same: to create an environment where creativity can thrive.

In my opinion, the best designers, artists, and architects share several characteristics. They are curious about the world, empathetic toward people, resilient when facing challenges, and humble enough to keep learning. Most importantly, they never lose their sense of wonder.

Because in the end, creativity begins with the belief that there is always another way to see the world.

I believe that design carries a responsibility beyond commercial success.

Throughout my career, I have been fortunate to learn from society, culture, education, and the communities around me. Because of this, I have always felt that designers should contribute something back. Creativity should not only serve brands and businesses; it should also serve people.

One of the most meaningful ways I contribute is through education. As a university professor, I have the opportunity to work with young designers every day. Beyond teaching technical skills, I try to help students develop curiosity, cultural awareness, empathy, and independent creative thinking. In recent years, I have also focused on helping students navigate the age of artificial intelligence without becoming overly dependent on technology. I believe creativity remains a fundamentally human capability, and I see education as one of the most important forms of social contribution a designer can make.

I am also passionate about inclusive design and social innovation. One project that is particularly meaningful to me involved a collaborative creative initiative between university students and adults with Down syndrome. Rather than designing for a community, we designed with them. Together, participants created products, exhibitions, and shared experiences that celebrated creativity, dignity, and mutual understanding. The project demonstrated how design can become a bridge between different groups of people and create opportunities for dialogue, learning, and inclusion.

Another area of contribution involves cultural preservation. Many of my recent projects have focused on Taiwanese vernacular culture, handwritten visual language, internet culture, and forgotten Chinese characters. These projects are not driven primarily by commercial objectives. Instead, they seek to preserve cultural memory while making it relevant and accessible to contemporary audiences. I believe design can play an important role in helping societies understand, reinterpret, and celebrate their cultural heritage.

Throughout my career, I have also participated in design education events, industry talks, mentoring activities, judging panels, and creative workshops. I enjoy sharing experiences with younger generations because many mentors generously guided me throughout my own journey. Supporting emerging designers is one way of continuing that tradition.

I strongly believe that designers, artists, and architects should engage with humanitarian and social projects whenever possible. Design has the power to improve communication, create accessibility, foster understanding, and strengthen communities. Some of the most rewarding projects I have experienced generated little commercial value but created significant human value.

Ultimately, I do not see philanthropy as something separate from design.

I believe good design is itself a form of contribution.

When design helps people learn, connect, participate, feel included, preserve culture, or imagine a better future, it is already making society stronger.

If there is one legacy I hope to leave behind, it is not a collection of projects or awards. It is the people I have helped inspire, support, educate, and empower through creativity.

Participating in the A’ Design Award has been a meaningful experience, not only because of the recognition itself, but also because it encouraged me to reflect on my creative journey and the role of design in society.

One of the most valuable aspects of international design competitions is that they provide a platform for ideas to travel beyond geographical and cultural boundaries. Design is often created within a specific local context, but awards create opportunities for projects to reach global audiences. Through the A’ Design Award, I have had the opportunity to share aspects of Taiwanese culture, language, and creativity with people who may never have encountered them before.

A second benefit is the opportunity to connect with an international creative community. Design competitions bring together designers, artists, architects, educators, and innovators from diverse disciplines and cultures. Even when we work in different fields, we often share similar challenges, aspirations, and questions about the future of creativity. These exchanges can be incredibly inspiring and often lead to new perspectives and collaborations.

The third benefit is personal reflection and growth. Preparing submissions, documenting projects, and participating in interviews encourages designers to articulate their design philosophy and evaluate their own work more critically. In many ways, the process becomes an opportunity to better understand not only what we create, but also why we create it.

I believe design competitions remain relevant because they celebrate ideas. While awards may recognize outcomes, they also encourage experimentation, innovation, and cultural dialogue. They create opportunities for designers to challenge themselves, learn from others, and contribute to broader conversations about design and society.

Being selected as a Designer of the Day is particularly meaningful because it shifts the focus beyond a single project. It provides an opportunity to share the experiences, values, and philosophies that have shaped my work over the years. While projects may come and go, the ideas behind them often have a longer-lasting impact.

For me, the greatest value of recognition is not the trophy or title itself. It is the opportunity to inspire conversations, share cultural perspectives, and encourage others to see familiar things in new ways.

If there is one lesson I have learned through international design awards, it is that good design can transcend language, geography, and discipline. Whether a project originates in Taiwan or elsewhere, meaningful ideas have the power to connect people across cultures.

As a designer, educator, and creative leader, I am grateful for opportunities such as the A’ Design Award because they remind us that creativity is not only about making things—it is also about building connections between people, cultures, and ideas.

My main focus in designing The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was to create a meaningful connection between contemporary digital culture and traditional cultural heritage.

Many cultural preservation projects struggle to engage younger audiences because they often rely on conventional methods of presentation. At the same time, internet culture is frequently viewed as temporary, informal, or lacking cultural value. I wanted to challenge both assumptions.

The primary goal was not simply to create an interesting visual identity or a humorous campaign. Instead, I wanted to explore whether a familiar internet expression could become a gateway for people to rediscover traditional culture.

By combining the widely used online expression "Kaobei" with the traditional ritual of "Jiaobei" temple divination, I sought to create a shared cultural experience that felt accessible, relevant, and engaging for contemporary audiences. Rather than asking people to learn about culture, I wanted them to participate in it.

Another important objective was to encourage dialogue between generations. Older generations are often more familiar with traditional rituals, while younger generations are deeply immersed in digital culture. The project created a common point of reference where both groups could engage with the same experience from different perspectives.

Humor also played an important role. I believe humor is one of the most powerful forms of communication because it lowers barriers and encourages participation. Through playful interaction, people became more willing to explore cultural meanings that they might otherwise overlook.

On a broader level, I wanted to demonstrate that culture is not static. Culture continuously evolves through language, behavior, technology, and social interaction. The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was designed as an experiment in cultural reinterpretation—showing how traditional practices can remain relevant by engaging with contemporary forms of expression.

Ultimately, my goal was simple:

**To transform a familiar internet phrase into a meaningful cultural conversation.**

If visitors left the experience smiling, reflecting, and seeing both digital culture and traditional culture in a new way, then I felt the project had achieved its purpose.

Winning the award is not the end of The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup; in many ways, it is the beginning of a larger cultural conversation.

My future vision for the project is to expand it beyond a single event and develop it into a long-term cultural platform that explores the relationship between language, communication, technology, and contemporary culture.

One direction is to transform the project into a traveling exhibition that can be presented in museums, cultural centers, universities, and public spaces. The themes explored by the project—digital communication, cultural identity, social participation, and language evolution—are relevant far beyond Taiwan. I believe audiences in different countries can also relate to the universal human desire to express emotions, seek understanding, and connect with others.

Another possibility is to develop new interactive experiences inspired by emerging forms of communication. Language is constantly evolving, especially in the digital era. New expressions, memes, symbols, and social behaviors emerge every day. I am interested in exploring how these contemporary forms of expression can be documented, interpreted, and transformed into meaningful cultural experiences.

The project may also expand into educational initiatives. As an educator, I see great potential for using humor, participation, and storytelling to help younger generations engage with cultural heritage in more accessible ways. The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup demonstrates that culture does not need to be distant or formal—it can be playful, interactive, and deeply relevant to everyday life.

In the future, I would also like to explore collaborations with cultural institutions, museums, researchers, and creative communities to further investigate how digital culture is reshaping collective memory and cultural identity.

Ultimately, my goal is not simply to preserve culture, but to keep culture alive.

Culture survives when people continue to participate in it, reinterpret it, and make it meaningful for their own generation.

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup began as an experiment in cultural translation. I hope it will continue evolving as a platform that encourages dialogue between tradition and innovation, local culture and global audiences, the physical world and the digital world.

In that sense, I believe the project's most interesting chapter may still be ahead.

From a practical perspective, the development of The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup took several months of research, concept development, design, testing, and implementation.

However, I often feel that meaningful projects cannot be measured only by production schedules.

The actual design process may have lasted a few months, but the observations that inspired the project were collected over many years.

As both a designer and cultural observer, I have always been fascinated by the way language evolves. Over the years, I noticed how internet culture was creating new expressions, new forms of communication, and new social rituals. At the same time, I have long been interested in traditional Taiwanese culture, including temple practices, folk beliefs, and the ways communities preserve cultural memory.

The idea emerged when I noticed the phonetic similarity between "Kaobei," a widely used internet expression, and "Jiaobei," the traditional divination blocks used in temples. The connection appeared simple at first, but the more I explored it, the more cultural possibilities I discovered.

Once the core concept was established, the project entered a more intensive development phase. This included cultural research, storytelling, visual identity design, interactive experience planning, public engagement strategies, and communication design. One of the biggest challenges was ensuring that the project remained humorous and accessible while still showing respect for the cultural traditions that inspired it.

In many ways, the design process felt like translating between two worlds: digital culture and traditional culture.

The most time-consuming part was not creating the visuals. It was refining the idea until it felt meaningful, balanced, and authentic.

As a designer, I have learned that execution can often be completed within weeks or months, but insights take much longer to develop. They are built through observation, conversations, experiences, and curiosity accumulated over time.

So if I were to answer honestly, I would say that the project took several months to design—but more than twenty years to fully understand why it mattered.

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was originally commissioned as a cultural promotion project. However, the creative concept itself emerged from a personal observation that had been developing for many years.

Throughout my career, I have been fascinated by the relationship between language, culture, and human behavior. As both a designer and educator, I often observe how people communicate in everyday life, especially in digital environments. Taiwan's internet culture is rich, humorous, and highly creative. Many online expressions that appear casual or temporary actually reveal deeper social emotions, values, and cultural characteristics.

One expression that particularly caught my attention was "Kaobei," a phrase commonly used online to express frustration, surprise, humor, or emotional release. At the same time, I was familiar with the traditional Taiwanese practice of using "Jiaobei" divination blocks in temples to seek guidance and answers.

The phonetic similarity between these two words immediately intrigued me.

What interested me was not simply the wordplay itself, but the cultural relationship hidden behind it. One belongs to digital culture, while the other belongs to traditional culture. One exists in social media conversations, while the other exists in temples and religious practices. Yet both represent a form of communication and a desire to express emotions, ask questions, and seek understanding.

This observation became the foundation of the project.

When the opportunity arose to create a cultural promotion initiative, I saw it as a chance to explore whether these seemingly unrelated worlds could be connected through design. Rather than treating traditional culture as something distant or formal, I wanted to create an experience that felt accessible, humorous, and relevant to contemporary audiences.

The project therefore became much more than a campaign. It evolved into an experiment in cultural translation—using the language of today's generation to create a dialogue with cultural traditions that have existed for centuries.

In many ways, the project was both commissioned and personally inspired.

The commission provided the opportunity, but the inspiration came from years of observing Taiwanese society, internet culture, language, and everyday life.

As a designer, I often believe that the best ideas emerge when a professional challenge meets a personal curiosity.

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was exactly that kind of project.

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was originally developed as a cultural promotion initiative rather than a commercial product. Its primary purpose is to encourage public participation, cultural engagement, and dialogue between contemporary digital culture and traditional cultural heritage.

At present, the project is associated with cultural and public-sector initiatives rather than commercial manufacturing. Its value lies not in physical production, but in the experience, interaction, and cultural conversations it generates.

Looking forward, I see significant potential for the project to be adapted and utilized by cultural institutions, museums, educational organizations, public exhibitions, and community engagement programs. The themes explored by the project—language, communication, cultural identity, and participation—are highly adaptable and can be presented in different formats and contexts.

Rather than focusing on selling production rights, I am more interested in expanding the project's cultural impact. Future possibilities may include traveling exhibitions, educational programs, museum collaborations, public installations, and interactive cultural experiences that allow broader audiences to engage with the concepts behind the project.

I also believe the project could serve as a model for future cultural innovation initiatives. The methodology of translating contemporary social phenomena into meaningful cultural experiences can be applied to many other aspects of language, tradition, and everyday life.

For me, the most important objective is not commercial production but cultural participation. If the project can continue inspiring conversations, encouraging engagement, and helping people reconnect with culture in new ways, then it will continue fulfilling its purpose.

In that sense, I see The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup not as a finished product, but as an evolving cultural platform with opportunities for future growth and collaboration.

I chose to design this project as a participatory cultural experience because I believe culture is best understood through engagement rather than observation.

Many cultural promotion projects rely on exhibitions, publications, or informational content to communicate cultural knowledge. While these approaches are valuable, I have often observed that contemporary audiences—especially younger generations—connect more deeply when they are invited to actively participate rather than simply receive information.

Throughout my career, I have been particularly interested in transforming cultural concepts into experiences. Whether through public installations, exhibitions, social campaigns, or interactive projects, I enjoy creating opportunities for people to become part of the story.

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup explores themes such as language, communication, humor, belief, and cultural identity. These subjects are deeply connected to everyday life, so I felt that a participatory format would be much more effective than a traditional educational approach.

Another reason for choosing this format was the nature of internet culture itself. Digital culture is inherently interactive. People do not simply consume content—they comment, react, share, remix, and contribute. I wanted the project to reflect that same spirit of participation while connecting it with the communal and ritualistic aspects of traditional temple culture.

Humor was also an important consideration. I believe humor can lower barriers, invite curiosity, and encourage people to explore subjects they might otherwise ignore. By creating a playful experience, the project became more approachable and inclusive while still carrying meaningful cultural content.

More broadly, the project reflects my ongoing interest in cultural translation. I am fascinated by the challenge of taking something familiar yet overlooked and presenting it in a way that encourages people to see it differently. Participatory design is particularly effective for this purpose because it allows audiences to discover meanings for themselves rather than having those meanings explained to them.

Ultimately, I designed this type of work because I wanted culture to be experienced rather than merely discussed.

I believe people remember experiences far longer than information.

When participation, storytelling, humor, and culture come together, design can create moments that are not only educational, but also memorable, emotional, and meaningful.

That is the type of work I enjoy creating most.

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was not directly inspired by a specific visual design or a single designer. Instead, it was influenced by a combination of design philosophies, cultural observations, and interdisciplinary approaches that have shaped my work throughout my career.

One of the most significant influences is the Bauhaus philosophy established by Walter Gropius. What I admire most about Bauhaus is not its visual style, but its belief that art, design, technology, and everyday life should be connected. This principle has influenced many of my projects, including The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup. Rather than treating culture as something that belongs only in museums or academic discussions, I wanted to bring cultural ideas into everyday experiences that people could actively participate in.

Another important influence comes from participatory design and experience design. I have always been interested in projects that invite audiences to become part of the work rather than simply observe it. The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was designed as a shared cultural experience where people could interact, contribute, and interpret meaning for themselves. In this sense, the project was influenced more by the idea of participation than by any specific visual reference.

The strongest influence, however, comes from Taiwanese culture itself.

Taiwan is a fascinating place where traditional beliefs, folk customs, internet culture, social media, local humor, and contemporary technology coexist. The project emerged directly from observing this cultural landscape. The relationship between "Kaobei" and "Jiaobei" could only have been discovered through close observation of Taiwanese language, social behavior, and cultural traditions.

I am also inspired by creators who successfully transform cultural phenomena into meaningful public experiences. Whether they work in design, art, architecture, theater, or public installations, I admire people who help audiences see familiar things from new perspectives.

If there is one common thread connecting all of these influences, it is the belief that design should create dialogue.

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was ultimately shaped by the idea that design can connect seemingly unrelated worlds—tradition and technology, religion and social media, humor and cultural heritage, the past and the present.

In that sense, the greatest influence on the project was not a particular designer, but the culture itself.

Taiwan became both the inspiration and the co-designer of the work.

The primary audience for The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup is contemporary society itself—particularly people who actively participate in digital culture while remaining connected, directly or indirectly, to cultural traditions.

At one level, the project was designed to engage younger generations who are familiar with internet language, social media communication, memes, and online communities. Many young people encounter traditional culture only occasionally, and cultural heritage can sometimes feel distant or disconnected from their daily lives. By using a familiar internet expression as the entry point, the project creates a more accessible pathway into cultural exploration.

At another level, the project also speaks to older generations who are familiar with traditional temple practices, folk beliefs, and community rituals. For these audiences, the project offers an opportunity to view cultural traditions through a contemporary lens and discover how cultural meanings continue to evolve over time.

In this sense, the project was intentionally designed as a bridge between generations.

Beyond age groups, the project also appeals to people who are interested in language, communication, cultural identity, humor, and social behavior. The themes explored by the project are universal. Regardless of cultural background, people are constantly creating new ways to express emotions, build communities, and make meaning through language.

From a broader perspective, I believe the project can resonate with anyone who has ever participated in contemporary digital culture. While the specific wordplay originates in Taiwan, the underlying themes—communication, belonging, identity, humor, and cultural evolution—are shared across societies around the world.

Ultimately, the target audience is not defined by demographics alone.

The project is designed for curious people.

People who enjoy questioning familiar assumptions.

People who appreciate humor.

People who are interested in culture.

And people who are willing to discover unexpected connections between the past and the present.

In many ways, The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was created for anyone who believes that culture should be lived, shared, and continually reimagined.

What sets The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup apart is that it does not simply preserve culture—it actively translates culture.

Many cultural projects focus on documenting traditions, displaying historical artifacts, or educating audiences about the past. While these approaches are valuable, The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup takes a different path. Instead of asking people to learn about culture, it invites them to participate in culture through a language and experience that already feels familiar to them.

The project transforms a contemporary internet expression into a cultural experience, creating a bridge between digital communication and traditional cultural practices. This combination is unusual because it connects two worlds that are rarely discussed together: social media culture and temple culture, online language and folk tradition, contemporary humor and cultural heritage.

Another distinctive aspect is its use of participation as a design strategy. Rather than positioning audiences as passive observers, the project encourages them to become active contributors to the experience. The meaning of the work emerges through interaction, conversation, and shared participation. In this sense, the audience becomes part of the design itself.

The project is also unique in the way it treats internet culture. Digital expressions are often considered temporary, informal, or lacking cultural significance. The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup challenges this assumption by suggesting that contemporary online language can become an important part of cultural memory and collective identity. It asks a simple but provocative question:

**What if today's internet culture becomes tomorrow's cultural heritage?**

Another distinguishing feature is the project's balance between humor and cultural depth. Humor attracts attention and lowers barriers, but beneath the playful surface lies a serious exploration of communication, identity, belief, and cultural evolution. This duality allows the project to engage diverse audiences while maintaining meaningful cultural content.

Most importantly, the project demonstrates that tradition does not need to remain fixed in the past. Culture remains alive when it continues to evolve, adapt, and generate new interpretations. By bringing together traditional divination practices and contemporary internet language, the project creates a new cultural narrative that feels both familiar and unexpected.

Ultimately, what makes The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup different is that it does not treat culture as something to be preserved behind glass.

It treats culture as something people can laugh with, interact with, reinterpret, and carry into the future.

That transformation—from preservation to participation—is what makes the project unique.

The name "The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup" emerged directly from the central idea of the project.

In Taiwan, the word "Kaobei" is a popular internet expression used to convey frustration, surprise, complaint, disbelief, or emotional release. It has become a recognizable part of contemporary digital culture and everyday communication, especially among younger generations.

At the same time, Taiwan has a long tradition of using "Jiaobei"—wooden divination blocks used in temples to seek answers, guidance, or confirmation from deities. Although these two words originate from completely different cultural contexts, their pronunciation is remarkably similar.

When I noticed this linguistic connection, I immediately became fascinated by its cultural implications.

One word belongs to the digital world.

The other belongs to the spiritual world.

One is associated with social media and online conversations.

Yet both are ultimately forms of communication.

Both are ways for people to express emotions, ask questions, and seek responses.

The name therefore became much more than a clever play on words. It became the conceptual foundation of the entire project.

By combining "Kaobei" and cultural promotion, the title reflects the project's ambition to transform a familiar internet expression into a meaningful cultural dialogue. The name itself invites curiosity and encourages people to reconsider the relationship between contemporary language and traditional culture.

Another reason I chose this title is that it captures a uniquely Taiwanese cultural phenomenon. Taiwan's culture has always evolved through adaptation, reinterpretation, and the blending of different influences. The name reflects this spirit by bringing together digital culture, folk traditions, humor, language, and public participation within a single concept.

In many ways, the title communicates the project's central question:

**Can a phrase born on the internet become part of cultural heritage?**

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup suggests that culture is not only something inherited from the past. Culture is also something we continue to create every day through language, behavior, communication, and shared experiences.

That idea is embedded directly in the name itself.

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was developed through a combination of research, observation, storytelling, and design execution.

From a technical perspective, I used professional design tools such as Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop to develop the visual identity, communication materials, and presentation assets. However, the most important tools in this project were not digital.

Cultural observation played a central role. The project originated from years of observing Taiwanese internet culture, language evolution, social media behavior, and traditional folk practices. Research was equally important, requiring an understanding of both temple divination traditions and contemporary online communication.

Before creating visual designs, I spent significant time developing narratives, cultural meanings, and audience experiences through sketches, handwritten notes, and concept mapping. Conversations with cultural practitioners, community members, and collaborators also helped shape the project.

If I were to identify the most important tools behind this work, they would be:

**Curiosity, observation, research, storytelling, and participation.**

The software helped execute the project, but these human-centered tools helped create it.

The digital tools made the project visible.

The human tools made it meaningful.

The most unique aspect of The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup is its ability to transform a familiar internet expression into a meaningful cultural experience.

Many projects focus on preserving traditional culture, while others celebrate contemporary digital culture. This project does both at the same time. It creates a bridge between online language and traditional folk practices, connecting two worlds that are rarely considered together.

What makes the project particularly distinctive is that it treats internet culture as something worthy of cultural reflection rather than something temporary or disposable. By linking the popular online expression "Kaobei" with the traditional practice of "Jiaobei" divination, the project invites people to reconsider how language evolves and how culture continues to be created in everyday life.

The project does not simply present culture—it allows people to participate in it. Through humor, interaction, and storytelling, audiences become part of the experience and contribute to its meaning.

Ultimately, the most unique aspect of the design is its central question:

**What if today's internet language becomes tomorrow's cultural heritage?**

That idea transformed a simple play on words into a broader conversation about culture, communication, identity, and collective memory.

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was a collaborative effort involving professionals from different disciplines, which was essential to bringing the concept to life.

As the project's lead designer and creative director, I was responsible for developing the core concept, cultural strategy, storytelling framework, and overall creative direction. However, transforming an idea into a public cultural experience required contributions from many talented individuals and organizations.

The project involved collaboration with cultural promotion partners, communication teams, production specialists, event coordinators, and public-sector stakeholders. Working closely with these groups helped ensure that the project remained both culturally meaningful and accessible to a broad audience.

Because the project explored the intersection of traditional culture and contemporary digital culture, it was particularly important to exchange ideas with people who possessed different perspectives and expertise. These discussions helped refine the concept, strengthen the storytelling, and improve audience engagement.

One of the most rewarding aspects of the project was seeing how different professional backgrounds contributed to a shared goal. Designers helped shape the visual experience, communication specialists enhanced public participation, cultural stakeholders provided valuable contextual insights, and audiences themselves ultimately became part of the project through their engagement and interpretation.

I have always believed that the strongest ideas emerge through collaboration. While the original concept began with a simple cultural observation, the project grew richer through the contributions of many people with different skills, experiences, and viewpoints.

In many ways, The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup demonstrates that meaningful cultural innovation is rarely the work of a single individual—it is the result of collective creativity.

Technology played an important supporting role in The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup, but it was never the center of the project.

The core idea was rooted in culture, language, communication, and human participation. Technology served as a tool that helped amplify these ideas and extend their reach to wider audiences.

Digital platforms and social media were particularly important because the project itself originated from internet culture. Online communication channels enabled people to engage with the project, share experiences, participate in discussions, and contribute to the cultural conversation. In this sense, technology became a bridge connecting audiences with the project's themes.

Technology also supported the visual communication, content dissemination, and public engagement aspects of the project. It helped transform a local cultural initiative into a broader social dialogue that could reach people beyond the physical event itself.

However, I intentionally avoided making technology the focus. The project was not designed to showcase new technologies; it was designed to explore how people communicate, express emotions, and create cultural meaning in the digital age.

For me, the most interesting role of technology is not what it can do, but what it can help people do together.

In The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup, technology enabled participation, conversation, and cultural exchange, but the true value of the project came from the people who engaged with it.

Ultimately, technology amplified the experience, but culture and human connection gave it meaning.

Yes. Although The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup is a cultural and communication design project rather than a scientific study, it was strongly informed by observation, cultural analysis, and qualitative research.

The project began with long-term observation of Taiwanese internet culture and language use. I was particularly interested in how certain online expressions evolve into shared social behaviors and become part of everyday communication. The popularity of the term "Kaobei" provided an opportunity to explore how digital language reflects contemporary emotions, values, and cultural identity.

In parallel, I conducted research into traditional Taiwanese temple culture, especially the use of "Jiaobei" divination blocks as a form of communication and guidance. Understanding the historical and cultural significance of this practice was essential to ensuring that the project remained respectful while introducing a contemporary interpretation.

The design process also involved analyzing audience behavior and participation patterns. Because the project was intended to engage diverse age groups, I considered how different audiences might respond to humor, cultural references, and interactive experiences. This helped shape both the communication strategy and the overall user experience.

In many ways, the project can be seen as a form of cultural research through design. Rather than treating research as a separate activity, research became part of the creative process itself. Observations from daily life, social media interactions, language evolution, and cultural traditions all contributed to the final concept.

The most important insight from this research was that culture is constantly evolving. Language, especially online language, is not only a communication tool but also a reflection of collective identity and social behavior.

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was ultimately designed as an exploration of that relationship between contemporary digital culture and traditional cultural heritage.

One of the biggest challenges in developing The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was transforming a familiar internet expression into a meaningful cultural experience.

At first glance, "Kaobei" is often associated with online complaints, emotional reactions, and humorous expressions. Many people view it as casual internet slang rather than something worthy of cultural discussion. The challenge was finding a way to reveal the deeper social and cultural meanings hidden behind this everyday language.

Another challenge was avoiding a purely humorous interpretation. While humor played an important role in attracting attention and encouraging participation, I wanted the project to go beyond a simple joke or wordplay. The goal was to create an experience that encouraged people to reflect on how language evolves, how communities communicate, and how contemporary culture is continuously shaped through everyday interactions.

The project also required balancing accessibility with cultural depth. It needed to be immediately understandable to a broad audience while still offering meaningful insights for people interested in culture, communication, and social behavior. Achieving this balance required careful refinement of the concept, storytelling, and audience experience.

A further challenge was demonstrating that contemporary internet language can carry cultural value. Digital expressions are often viewed as temporary or disposable, yet many of them reveal important aspects of collective identity, social emotions, and generational experiences. The project sought to highlight these connections and encourage audiences to reconsider the cultural significance of everyday language.

Perhaps the most rewarding challenge was transforming a simple linguistic observation into a broader conversation about culture and communication.

What began as a familiar internet phrase eventually became a project about identity, participation, collective memory, and the evolution of language itself.

In the end, the challenge was not designing an object or a campaign.

It was demonstrating that even the most ordinary words can reveal extraordinary cultural stories.

I decided to submit The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup to an international design competition because I was curious about whether a project rooted in Taiwanese culture could resonate with a global audience.

The project originated from a uniquely Taiwanese cultural phenomenon, combining internet language, everyday communication, and cultural identity. While these references are highly familiar to local audiences, I wanted to explore whether the underlying themes could be understood beyond Taiwan.

At its core, the project is not only about a specific phrase or cultural context. It is about language, communication, collective identity, humor, and the ways culture evolves through everyday interactions. These are universal human experiences, even if they are expressed differently across societies.

International design competitions provide an opportunity to test ideas beyond their original environment. They allow designers to discover whether a concept can communicate across languages, cultures, and geographical boundaries. I found this possibility particularly exciting because the project itself is about communication and cultural translation.

Another reason for participating was to introduce a contemporary aspect of Taiwanese culture to a broader audience. Much of the world's understanding of culture focuses on historical traditions, but I believe contemporary digital culture is also an important part of cultural identity. Through this project, I hoped to share a small piece of how Taiwanese society communicates, creates meaning, and expresses itself today.

Finally, I see international competitions as valuable opportunities for reflection. Preparing a project for an international audience forces designers to clarify their ideas, articulate their intentions, and evaluate the broader relevance of their work.

For me, submitting this project was not simply about recognition.

It was about asking a question:

**Can a design inspired by a local cultural phenomenon spark a meaningful conversation on a global stage?**

The positive response to the project suggests that culture may be local, but the human experiences behind it are often universal.

One of the most important lessons I learned from this project was that culture is not something fixed in the past—it is something continuously created in the present.

Before developing The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup, I often thought about cultural preservation in terms of history, traditions, and inherited practices. Through this project, I came to realize that contemporary language, internet culture, social interactions, and everyday behaviors are also part of our cultural landscape. Culture evolves every day through the ways people communicate and share experiences.

The project also strengthened my understanding of cultural translation. As designers, we often act as translators between different worlds. In this case, I was translating between digital culture and cultural heritage, between humor and reflection, and between different generations of audiences. The experience taught me that successful design is not about simplifying complexity, but about creating meaningful connections between seemingly unrelated ideas.

Another important lesson was the value of participation. The project reminded me that people connect more deeply with experiences they can actively engage with. Rather than simply presenting information, design becomes more powerful when audiences are invited to contribute, interpret, and become part of the story themselves.

On a personal level, the project reinforced my belief that observation remains one of the designer's most important skills. A simple linguistic observation eventually grew into a large cultural conversation. This reminded me that meaningful ideas are often hidden in ordinary places, waiting to be noticed.

Perhaps the most valuable insight was realizing that even the most everyday aspects of life can contain cultural significance.

What many people see as a casual internet expression became an opportunity to discuss language, identity, communication, and collective memory.

As a designer, that experience encouraged me to look more carefully at the world around me and to trust that meaningful ideas can emerge from unexpected places.

In many ways, this project did not just change the way I design.

It changed the way I observe culture itself.

If there is one final idea I would like people to take away from The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup, it is that culture is not something distant from our everyday lives.

We often think of culture as something preserved in museums, historical sites, archives, or textbooks. However, culture is also created through the words we use, the stories we tell, the jokes we share, and the ways we communicate with one another every day.

This project began with a simple observation about language, but it ultimately became an exploration of how contemporary society continuously creates new forms of cultural expression. What may seem ordinary today can become part of collective memory tomorrow.

As a designer, I am deeply interested in helping people rediscover familiar things from new perspectives. I believe design has the power to reveal cultural value in places where people may not expect to find it.

The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup is not simply about a phrase, an event, or a campaign. It is about encouraging people to look more carefully at the world around them and recognize that culture is alive, evolving, and constantly being shaped by human interaction.

Perhaps the most important message of the project is this:

**Culture is not only inherited. Culture is also created.**

Every generation contributes new stories, new language, and new ways of understanding the world.

As designers, we have the opportunity—and perhaps the responsibility—to help make those stories visible.

If this project encourages even a few people to see contemporary culture with greater curiosity and appreciation, then it has achieved its purpose.

What motivates me to design is curiosity.

Long before I became a designer, I was fascinated by how people create meaning. I was interested in stories, symbols, language, culture, and the countless ways human beings communicate with one another. Design eventually became the medium through which I could explore all of these interests simultaneously.

I did not become a designer simply because I wanted to create beautiful things. I became a designer because I was fascinated by the possibility of transforming ideas into experiences. Design allows us to take something invisible—an observation, a feeling, a question, a cultural phenomenon—and make it tangible for others to experience.

Throughout my career, I have worked on advertising campaigns, public installations, cultural initiatives, educational programs, exhibitions, and social projects. Although these projects appear very different on the surface, they are all driven by the same motivation: helping people see familiar things in unfamiliar ways.

I am particularly interested in the moments that most people overlook. A handwritten sign in a small alleyway, an internet expression used in everyday conversation, a forgotten Chinese character, a local tradition, or a simple interaction between people—these seemingly ordinary things often contain remarkable stories. Design gives me a way to uncover those stories and share them with others.

Another important motivation is the belief that design can create connections. It can connect generations, cultures, communities, ideas, and experiences. Some of my most rewarding projects have involved bringing together people who might not otherwise meet, such as university students and adults with Down syndrome, or connecting contemporary digital culture with traditional cultural heritage.

Today, in an era increasingly shaped by artificial intelligence, I find myself even more motivated by the human aspects of creativity. Technology can help us create faster, but curiosity, empathy, humor, imagination, and cultural understanding remain uniquely human qualities. These are the qualities I continue to explore through design.

If I had to summarize my motivation in a single sentence, it would be this:

**I design because I enjoy discovering unexpected stories hidden inside ordinary things.**

Every project is an opportunity to explore those stories, reinterpret them, and invite others to see the world from a new perspective.

That sense of discovery continues to inspire me today just as much as it did when I first began my creative journey.

I was not forced to become a designer, but I did not grow up dreaming of becoming one either.

As a child, I was primarily interested in art. I spent years learning drawing, watercolor painting, calligraphy, seal engraving, traditional Chinese landscape painting, and flower-and-bird painting. At that time, I was fascinated by visual expression, but I did not yet understand the difference between being an artist and being a designer.

What I knew was that I enjoyed observing the world and expressing ideas visually.

As I continued my education, I gradually discovered that design offered something unique. It combined creativity with communication. It connected art with society. It allowed ideas to move beyond personal expression and become shared experiences that could influence how people think, feel, and interact.

In many ways, I did not choose design in a single moment. Design slowly revealed itself to me as the most natural way to combine all the things I loved: art, storytelling, culture, language, observation, and human behavior.

One of the turning points came during my university years when I designed a poster about career planning and the future of university students. The project won first prize, and both the visual concept and copywriting were adopted for a large-scale campus campaign. For the first time, I saw how an idea that existed only in my imagination could reach thousands of people and create real impact.

That experience changed my understanding of creativity.

I realized that while art can move people emotionally, design can also change the way people think, communicate, and engage with the world around them.

Looking back, I do not think I chose design as much as design chose me.

Every stage of my life—from traditional Chinese art and literature to advertising, education, cultural projects, and research—seemed to lead naturally toward this profession.

More than twenty years later, I still feel that design is the perfect intersection of everything that fascinates me: culture, people, stories, imagination, and possibility.

So no, I was not forced to become a designer.

I simply kept following my curiosity, and it eventually led me here.

Throughout my career, I have designed a wide variety of projects, including advertising campaigns, brand communications, cultural initiatives, public installations, exhibitions, educational programs, social innovation projects, and interactive experiences.

Although these projects may appear very different on the surface, they share a common purpose: creating meaningful connections between people, culture, and ideas.

I have always been less interested in designing objects and more interested in designing experiences. Whether it is a city-wide cultural installation, a public campaign, an educational project, or an interactive exhibition, I enjoy creating moments that encourage people to think, feel, participate, and see familiar things from new perspectives.

Many of my recent works explore the relationship between culture and contemporary society. Projects such as The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup, vernacular handwriting research, and interactive experiences based on forgotten Chinese characters all emerged from my fascination with how culture evolves through language, behavior, and everyday life.

Looking ahead, I would like to design more projects that combine culture, education, storytelling, and technology.

In particular, I am interested in creating large-scale interactive cultural experiences that allow people to learn through participation rather than observation. I want to explore how traditional culture, local stories, language, and collective memory can be transformed into engaging contemporary experiences.

One project I am especially excited about involves transforming rare and forgotten Chinese characters into interactive installations where visitors can physically experience the meanings of words through play, movement, and sensory interaction. Rather than reading about culture, people would be invited to experience it directly.

I am also increasingly interested in the relationship between creativity and artificial intelligence. However, my focus is not on technology itself, but on how technology can help people tell richer stories, preserve cultural memory, and strengthen human connections.

If I could choose the projects I most want to design in the future, they would be projects that make people curious.

Projects that bring together different generations.

Projects that transform culture into experience.

And projects that remind us that creativity is one of the most human things we possess.

Ultimately, I hope to continue creating work that helps people see the extraordinary hidden within the ordinary.

First of all, I do not think anyone should aim to become a design legend.

I believe young designers should aim to become curious, thoughtful, and authentic human beings. Recognition, awards, and professional success are often by-products of those qualities rather than goals in themselves.

If I could offer one piece of advice, it would be this:

**Do not spend all your time studying design. Spend more time studying people.**

Many young designers focus heavily on software, trends, visual styles, and portfolios. While these skills are important, truly memorable ideas rarely come from design tools alone. They come from observing life, understanding culture, listening to stories, and developing empathy for others.

Some of the most valuable lessons in my career did not come from design books. They came from conversations with strangers, traveling through cities, walking down small alleyways, reading literature, studying calligraphy, observing social behavior, and simply remaining curious about the world.

Another important lesson is to avoid becoming trapped by trends. Trends change constantly. Technology changes constantly. What remains valuable is your ability to observe, think critically, and discover meaningful connections that others overlook.

I would also encourage young designers to embrace disciplines beyond design. Study history, literature, music, psychology, anthropology, technology, and culture. The wider your perspective becomes, the richer your creative work will be.

Most importantly, do not be afraid to develop your own voice. Many young designers spend years trying to imitate successful designers. Inspiration is valuable, but originality begins when you start trusting your own observations and experiences.

After more than twenty years in the creative industry, I have learned that creativity is not about having all the answers.

It is about continuing to ask interesting questions.

Perhaps that is why my favorite advice comes from the French writer Marcel Proust:

**"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes."**

If young designers can learn to see the world with fresh eyes, they will discover opportunities, stories, and ideas everywhere.

And who knows? One day others may call them legends—but by then, they will probably be too busy learning something new to notice.

The difference between a good designer and a great designer is not talent, software skills, or even creativity alone.

A good designer can solve problems.

A great designer can discover problems that others never noticed.

Throughout my career, I have met many talented designers who could execute beautiful visuals, create effective layouts, and deliver successful projects. These abilities are important and form the foundation of professional design practice.

However, the designers who leave a lasting impact usually possess something more. They are exceptionally curious. They look beyond the brief, beyond the client's request, and beyond the obvious solution. Instead of asking, "How do I solve this problem?" they often ask, "Is this the real problem?"

Great designers are also observers of human behavior. They pay attention to culture, language, emotions, and everyday life. They understand that design is ultimately about people rather than objects. As a result, they are often able to identify opportunities and connections that others overlook.

Another important difference is perspective. Good designers create solutions. Great designers create new ways of seeing. They help people rethink assumptions, challenge conventions, and discover possibilities that were previously invisible.

I have always admired designers who can transform ordinary things into extraordinary experiences. A forgotten word, a local tradition, a social behavior, or a simple observation can become the foundation of meaningful innovation when viewed through a different lens.

Great designers also possess humility. The more experience they gain, the more they realize how much there is still to learn. They remain curious, adaptable, and open to ideas from unexpected places.

If I had to summarize the difference in a single sentence, it would be this:

**Good designers make things better. Great designers help people see things differently.**

And when people begin to see the world differently, meaningful change often follows.

People often evaluate design based on appearance, innovation, functionality, or aesthetics. While these factors are certainly important, I believe truly great design goes beyond what we see.

For me, a good design achieves its purpose clearly and effectively. It communicates, solves a problem, creates value, or improves an experience. In other words, people can understand it.

A really good design does something more. It creates an emotional connection. It makes people feel curious, surprised, inspired, delighted, or even challenged. Long after the experience ends, it remains in their memory.

The best designs I have encountered often share three qualities.

First, they are meaningful. They are not created simply because they can be created. They exist for a reason and contribute something valuable to people's lives.

Second, they are authentic. They emerge from genuine observations, real human needs, and honest cultural insights rather than trends or superficial decoration.

Third, they create impact. Whether that impact is social, cultural, educational, emotional, or commercial, great design changes something. It shifts perspectives, influences behavior, strengthens connections, or helps people understand the world differently.

When I evaluate a design, I often ask a very simple question:

**Will people still remember this a year from now?**

Many designs attract attention for a moment. Very few remain meaningful over time.

Throughout my career, I have become increasingly interested in designs that reveal something hidden within ordinary life. The projects that impress me most are often not the most technologically advanced or visually complex. They are the ones that help people see familiar things from an entirely new perspective.

If I had to summarize my philosophy in a single sentence, it would be this:

**Good design helps people understand. Great design helps people feel. Exceptional design helps people change.**

For me, that is the highest achievement design can reach.

Many people think design is about making things attractive. In reality, good design creates value far beyond aesthetics.

At its core, design helps people understand, connect, and engage. It improves communication, clarifies complex ideas, creates meaningful experiences, and strengthens relationships between people, products, services, and culture.

This is why I believe good design is not an expense—it is an investment.

Organizations often invest in technology, infrastructure, and marketing, but design is the element that connects all of these investments to human experience. Without good design, even the most innovative product, service, or idea may fail to reach its full potential.

The value of good design can be seen everywhere. It helps businesses communicate more effectively, helps cities build stronger identities, helps cultural institutions engage wider audiences, and helps educational experiences become more meaningful. At a personal level, good design can even influence how we think, behave, and interact with the world around us.

In my own work, I have witnessed how design can transform ordinary experiences into memorable ones. A bubble tea cup became a city-wide Christmas installation. An internet expression became a cultural conversation. Forgotten Chinese characters became interactive experiences. These transformations happened because design revealed value that people had not previously recognized.

Perhaps the greatest value of good design is that it creates understanding.

In a world filled with information, technology, and constant change, design helps people make sense of complexity. It creates clarity without removing meaning and connection without removing individuality.

If I had to explain the value of design in a single sentence, it would be this:

**Good design does not simply make things better. It helps people see possibilities they could not see before.**

That is why everyone—individuals, organizations, communities, and societies—should invest in good design.

Because good design is ultimately an investment in people.

If I had unlimited time and resources, I would dedicate myself to designing large-scale cultural experiences that help people rediscover the stories hidden within everyday life.

Throughout my career, I have become increasingly fascinated by the idea that culture is not something people should only read about—it is something they should experience. I would love to create immersive projects that transform language, folklore, local traditions, forgotten histories, and collective memories into interactive experiences that people can see, touch, hear, and participate in.

One area I am particularly passionate about is the preservation and reinterpretation of cultural heritage. For example, I am currently exploring ways to transform rare and forgotten Chinese characters into interactive installations where visitors can physically experience the meaning of words through play, movement, and participation. Instead of memorizing culture, people would experience it directly.

I would also love to design projects for younger generations growing up in an increasingly digital world. My goal would not be to teach culture as history, but to help them discover how culture continues to evolve through language, creativity, technology, and everyday life.

At the same time, I am interested in designing experiences that bring together different generations, communities, and perspectives. Many of today's social challenges are not caused by a lack of information, but by a lack of understanding. I believe design can create opportunities for dialogue, empathy, and shared experiences.

If I had complete freedom, I would not design for a particular client.

I would design for curiosity.

I would design for people who have forgotten how fascinating ordinary life can be.

Ultimately, the projects I most want to create are those that help people see the extraordinary hidden within the ordinary—and remind them that culture is not only inherited, but continuously created by all of us.

One dream project I have not yet had the opportunity to fully realize is the creation of a large-scale cultural experience museum dedicated to the stories, language, memories, and everyday creativity of ordinary people.

Throughout my career, I have become increasingly interested in the idea that culture does not only belong to historical monuments, famous artworks, or official archives. Some of the most meaningful cultural expressions can be found in handwritten signs, local dialects, internet language, street markets, neighborhood traditions, popular beliefs, and the countless small details of everyday life.

If given unlimited time and resources, I would like to create an immersive cultural space where visitors could experience these stories through interaction rather than observation. Instead of reading information panels, people would engage with language, participate in cultural rituals, explore forgotten words, interact with living traditions, and discover how contemporary culture continues to evolve.

The project would combine design, storytelling, technology, education, and cultural preservation. It would bring together many of the themes I have explored throughout my career, including vernacular culture, communication, collective memory, public participation, and creative learning.

I am particularly interested in creating experiences that connect generations. In today's rapidly changing world, many cultural traditions risk being forgotten, while new forms of digital culture emerge every day. I would love to build a platform where these different worlds can meet, interact, and learn from one another.

The project would not simply preserve culture.

It would allow people to experience culture as something alive, evolving, and continuously created through everyday life.

Perhaps that is my ultimate dream as a designer: to create a place where people can rediscover the extraordinary stories hidden within ordinary things.

A place where culture is not displayed behind glass, but experienced, shared, and continually reimagined.

If I am fortunate enough, I hope one day to make that dream a reality.

People often assume that success in design comes from creativity, talent, or technical skills.

While these qualities are certainly important, I do not think they are the most important ingredient.

If I had to identify my secret ingredient, it would be observation.

Throughout my career, many of my projects have originated from things that most people encounter every day but rarely pay attention to. A cloud in the sky, a cup of bubble tea, a handwritten sign, a forgotten Chinese character, an internet expression, or a simple conversation can all become the starting point for a design project.

I have learned that remarkable ideas are often hidden within ordinary things.

The challenge is not generating ideas. The challenge is noticing them.

Another important ingredient is curiosity. I am constantly asking questions about why people behave the way they do, how culture evolves, how language changes, and how seemingly unrelated things can be connected. Curiosity transforms observation into insight.

I also believe humor plays an important role in my work. Humor allows people to lower their defenses, engage with ideas, and discover new perspectives. Some of my most successful projects began with a playful question that eventually led to a deeper cultural conversation.

Perhaps the most important lesson I have learned is that creativity is less about invention and more about discovery.

Many designers spend their careers searching for extraordinary ideas.

I spend much of my time searching for extraordinary meanings hidden inside ordinary life.

If there is a secret recipe behind my work, it is probably very simple:

**Stay curious. Observe carefully. Never stop asking questions.**

Because the world is already full of fascinating stories.

Most people simply walk past them without noticing.

To be honest, many of the people who have inspired me most are not designers in the traditional sense.

One of my greatest inspirations is **Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale**, the director and screenwriter behind the *Back to the Future* trilogy. I have always been fascinated by their ability to construct intricate narratives that connect seamlessly across multiple films. Their mastery of storytelling, foreshadowing, and creative world-building taught me that great ideas are often remembered not because they are complex, but because every detail serves a larger story.

In music, I greatly admire producer **David Foster**. His ability to transform melodies into timeless popular music demonstrates how creativity can connect with millions of people while maintaining emotional depth. His work reminds me that great creative projects balance craftsmanship, emotion, and accessibility.

I am also inspired by the legendary jazz pianist **Art Tatum**. His astonishing speed, improvisational freedom, and technical brilliance completely transformed the possibilities of jazz piano. What fascinates me most is his fearless creativity. Listening to Art Tatum reminds me that true mastery is not about following rules—it is about understanding them so deeply that you can transcend them.

From the design world, **Dieter Rams** has had a profound influence on my thinking. His work was never simply about products; it was about envisioning how people might live in the future. Many of his ideas continue to shape contemporary design decades later. I admire his ability to create work that feels timeless rather than fashionable.

As someone who grew up studying calligraphy, I am deeply inspired by Taiwanese calligraphy master **Tong Yang-Tze**. Her work embodies a unique balance between discipline and freedom. Within her brushstrokes, I see both powerful structure and spontaneous expression. Her calligraphy feels alive—flowing like water while carrying tremendous emotional energy. That spirit continues to influence how I think about creativity today.

Although these individuals come from very different fields, they share a common quality: they expanded the boundaries of what people believed was possible.

Whether through film, music, design, jazz, or calligraphy, they each created new ways of seeing, feeling, and experiencing the world.

That, to me, is the true mark of a creative legend.

Many of my favorite designs come from different creative disciplines rather than from design alone. I am often attracted to works that successfully combine storytelling, imagination, cultural influence, and human emotion.

One of my favorite creative works is the **Back to the Future trilogy**, created by Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale. Although it is a film rather than a design project, I admire its extraordinary narrative structure. The way seemingly insignificant details connect across multiple timelines demonstrates a level of creative planning and storytelling that continues to inspire me. It reminds me that great design, like great storytelling, is often about creating meaningful connections.

I also deeply admire the work of **Dieter Rams** for Braun. Products such as the SK4 record player and the ET66 calculator feel remarkably contemporary despite being designed decades ago. What fascinates me is not only their visual simplicity but their ability to anticipate future lifestyles. His work proves that good design can transcend trends and remain relevant across generations.

Another work I greatly admire is the calligraphic art of **Tong Yang-Tze**. Her brushwork combines discipline and spontaneity, structure and freedom. Each character appears powerful yet fluid, carrying both cultural tradition and contemporary energy. Her work continually reminds me that expression can be both controlled and alive at the same time.

From the world of music, I am fascinated by the performances of **Art Tatum**. His improvisations transformed jazz piano into something almost unimaginable. While not a designer in the traditional sense, his work demonstrates the highest level of creativity: mastering a system so completely that you can create entirely new possibilities within it.

Perhaps what connects all of these works is that they expanded my understanding of creativity. They do not merely solve problems or entertain audiences. They change the way people think, feel, and perceive the world.

That is the type of design I admire most.

Work that remains meaningful long after the first encounter.

Work that continues to reveal new layers every time you experience it.

If I had to choose a single project that best represents my creative philosophy, it would be **Dream Cloud**, a project I created in collaboration with Hey Song.

At its simplest level, Dream Cloud was a giant floating cloud that traveled through public spaces, city streets, and even entered a professional baseball stadium as part of a large-scale public event. Hidden within the cloud were miniature cameras that recorded people's reactions, encouragements, dreams, and gestures.

However, what made the project meaningful was not the technology or the spectacle.

It was the idea.

As a child, I often imagined clouds drifting freely through the sky and wondered what it would be like if people could interact with them. Dream Cloud allowed me to transform that childhood imagination into reality. For the first time, something that existed only in fantasy became a shared experience that thousands of people could see, participate in, and remember.

The project was built around the message:

**"Never let go until your dreams come true."**

People did not simply watch the cloud. They interacted with it, followed it, photographed it, and contributed their own stories. The collected messages and images were later shared with groups and individuals who were quietly pursuing their dreams, creating a cycle of encouragement and inspiration.

What makes this project special to me is that it successfully combined imagination, storytelling, technology, public participation, and emotional connection. It demonstrated that design does not have to remain on a screen, a poster, or an object. Design can become an experience that people carry with them long after the event has ended.

More importantly, Dream Cloud taught me an important lesson:

The most powerful designs are often those that reconnect people with a sense of wonder.

In a world that often asks us to be practical, efficient, and realistic, Dream Cloud invited people to look up, smile, and believe that impossible things might still be possible.

That is why I consider it my greatest design.

Not because it was the largest project I created.

Not because it received recognition.

But because it transformed a childhood dream into a shared human experience.

Even today, years later, it continues to remind me why I became a designer in the first place.

I believe becoming a better designer begins with becoming a more observant person.

When I look back on my own journey, I realize that most of my growth did not come from software tutorials, design trends, or technical skills alone. It came from developing a deeper understanding of people, culture, stories, and the world around me.

As a young student, I studied calligraphy, traditional Chinese painting, literature, and visual arts. Later, I entered advertising, where I learned how ideas, emotions, and communication influence human behavior. These experiences taught me that creativity often emerges from unexpected intersections between different fields of knowledge.

One habit that helped me tremendously was maintaining curiosity beyond design itself. I read widely, observed people, listened to conversations, explored cities, visited exhibitions, studied culture, and paid attention to seemingly insignificant details. Many of my most successful projects began with simple observations that others overlooked.

I also learned the importance of embracing disciplines outside design. Great designers often draw inspiration from literature, music, film, psychology, history, technology, and everyday life. The broader your perspective becomes, the richer your creative thinking will be.

Another lesson I learned is that originality is often misunderstood. Many people believe creativity means inventing something completely new. In my experience, creativity is more often about discovering unexpected connections between things that already exist.

Most importantly, never stop being a student.

After more than twenty years in the creative industry, I still spend much of my time learning, questioning, and exploring. The moment a designer believes they already know everything is often the moment they stop growing.

If I had to offer one piece of advice, it would be this:

**Study people more than design.**

Because design tools will change.

Technology will change.

Trends will change.

But human curiosity, emotions, dreams, fears, and stories will always remain at the heart of great design.

And the better you understand people, the better designer you will become.

If I had not become a designer, I think I would still have become a storyteller in one form or another.

Perhaps I would have become a film director, screenwriter, writer, musician, or cultural researcher. Looking back, I realize that the common thread throughout my life has never been design itself—it has been a fascination with stories.

As a child, I was drawn to traditional Chinese literature, calligraphy, painting, and poetry. Later, I became fascinated by films such as *Back to the Future*, not only because of their imagination but because of the remarkable way they connected ideas, characters, and timelines into a meaningful whole. I was equally inspired by music, particularly artists who could move people emotionally through rhythm, melody, and performance.

What attracted me to design was that it allowed me to combine many of these interests. Design gave me a way to tell stories visually, culturally, emotionally, and socially. In many ways, I never stopped being a storyteller—I simply chose design as my medium.

If I had followed a different path, I suspect I would have worked in a profession that explored human experiences and imagination. I have always been curious about why people believe what they believe, how cultures evolve, why certain stories endure, and how creativity can influence society.

The profession might have been different, but the motivation would have remained the same.

I would still be searching for meaningful stories and new ways to share them.

In fact, after more than twenty years in design, I have come to realize something important:

I am not really designing posters, campaigns, exhibitions, or installations.

I am designing stories.

Design simply happens to be the language I use to tell them.

People often define design as problem-solving.

While I agree that design can solve problems, I believe it is much more than that.

For me, design is a way of seeing.

It is the ability to observe the world, discover hidden meanings, and reveal connections that others may not notice.

Throughout my career, I have come to realize that design is not limited to objects, graphics, products, buildings, or technologies. Design is a process of interpretation. It helps us understand people, culture, language, behavior, and society. It allows us to transform observations into experiences and ideas into stories.

Many of my projects began with ordinary things: a cloud, a cup of bubble tea, a handwritten sign, an internet expression, or a forgotten Chinese character. None of these things appear extraordinary at first glance. Yet design provides a way to uncover the stories, emotions, and cultural meanings hidden within them.

That is why I do not see design as the creation of something new.

More often, I see it as the discovery of something that already exists but has not yet been noticed.

Design also serves as a bridge. It connects people with ideas, generations with traditions, technology with humanity, and the past with the future. In an increasingly complex world, design helps us make sense of our experiences and create meaningful relationships with one another.

As technology continues to evolve, I believe the role of design becomes even more important. Artificial intelligence may help us generate content, but design helps us create meaning. Technology can accelerate production, but design gives direction and purpose.

If I had to define design in a single sentence, I would say:

**Design is the art of helping people see the world differently.**

When design succeeds, it does more than solve problems.

It creates understanding.

It sparks curiosity.

It inspires imagination.

And sometimes, it helps us discover something about ourselves that we did not know before.

That is what design means to me.

I have been fortunate to receive support from many people throughout different stages of my life and career, and it would be impossible to identify only one person.

My family has always been an important source of encouragement. They supported my decision to pursue a creative path, even when the future seemed uncertain. Creative careers are not always predictable, and having people who believe in you during difficult periods is invaluable.

I am also deeply grateful to the colleagues, mentors, clients, and collaborators I have worked with throughout more than two decades in the creative industry. Many of the projects I am most proud of would never have been possible without talented teams who shared ideas, challenged assumptions, and helped transform concepts into reality. Creativity may begin with an individual, but meaningful work is almost always the result of collaboration.

Perhaps surprisingly, I would also include my students among my greatest supporters. As an educator, I spend a great deal of time teaching, but I have discovered that teaching is also a powerful way of learning. Students continuously challenge me to rethink assumptions, explore new technologies, and see the world through different perspectives. Their curiosity keeps me curious.

Beyond specific individuals, I believe Taiwanese culture itself has been one of my greatest teachers. The people, stories, traditions, humor, language, and everyday experiences that surround me have inspired many of my projects and shaped the way I think about creativity.

Looking back, I do not believe success is ever achieved alone.

Every project, every opportunity, and every milestone was influenced by countless people who offered guidance, encouragement, trust, criticism, collaboration, or inspiration along the way.

If I have reached any meaningful heights in my career, it is because many people helped build the path beneath me.

For that, I remain deeply grateful.

If I reflect on what helped me become the designer I am today, I would say it was not a single achievement, mentor, or moment.

It was the combination of art, culture, communication, and continuous curiosity.

My early education in calligraphy, traditional Chinese painting, literature, and visual arts taught me how to observe, appreciate beauty, and understand cultural expression. These experiences shaped my sensitivity to form, rhythm, symbolism, and storytelling long before I formally studied design.

Later, the advertising industry became one of my greatest teachers. For more than two decades, I worked with clients, brands, government organizations, and creative teams across a wide range of industries. Advertising taught me that creativity is not only about expression—it is about communication. A great idea must connect with real people, real emotions, and real situations.

The industry also taught me to think quickly, work collaboratively, and continuously adapt to change. During my career, I witnessed the evolution from print advertising to digital media, social platforms, and artificial intelligence. Each transformation required learning new tools, new ways of thinking, and new ways of understanding audiences.

Another important influence was education. Becoming a university professor changed the way I think about design. Teaching forced me to articulate ideas that I had previously understood only intuitively. It also exposed me to younger generations, whose perspectives continue to challenge and inspire me.

However, if there is one quality that helped me more than anything else, it is curiosity.

Curiosity encouraged me to study subjects beyond design, from culture and literature to music, language, psychology, and technology. Many of my most successful projects emerged from connecting ideas across different disciplines rather than staying within the boundaries of design itself.

Looking back, I do not believe great designers are defined by technical skills alone.

They are defined by their ability to remain curious about the world.

Because the moment we stop learning, observing, and asking questions, we stop growing.

If anything helped me become a better designer over the years, it was never assuming that I already had the answers.

One of the biggest obstacles I faced was learning how to continuously reinvent myself.

When I entered the creative industry, the world was very different from today. Design was still heavily focused on print media, traditional advertising, and manual production processes. Since then, I have experienced multiple waves of transformation, including the rise of digital media, websites, social media, mobile technology, short-form video, and now artificial intelligence.

Each new era brought opportunities, but it also required letting go of old habits and learning new ways of thinking.

I quickly realized that the greatest threat to a designer is not competition—it is complacency.

Another challenge was balancing creativity with reality. As a young designer, I believed that a great idea alone could change everything. Over time, I learned that successful design also requires communication, collaboration, leadership, execution, and an understanding of people. Learning how to transform ideas into real-world impact was a lesson that took many years.

I also faced the challenge of working across different disciplines. Throughout my career, I moved between art, advertising, branding, cultural projects, education, research, and creative leadership. Each field had its own language, expectations, and ways of measuring success. At times, this felt overwhelming, but looking back, these experiences ultimately broadened my perspective and strengthened my ability to connect ideas from different worlds.

Perhaps the most important obstacle was learning to trust my own voice.

Like many young designers, I spent years admiring the work of others and wondering whether my ideas were good enough. Over time, I discovered that meaningful work does not come from imitating successful people. It comes from developing your own perspective and having the confidence to explore ideas that genuinely interest you.

Looking back, I do not think the obstacles made me weaker.

They made me more adaptable.

And adaptability may be one of the most important qualities a designer can possess.

Because technology changes.

Industries change.

Audiences change.

But the ability to keep learning, evolving, and remaining curious will always remain valuable.

In many ways, the greatest obstacle was not the industry around me.

It was learning how to continuously grow beyond the person I was yesterday.

I believe designers should present their work as stories rather than simply as finished outcomes.

Many designers focus on showing the final visuals, products, or executions. While the final result is important, what audiences, clients, and judges often remember most is the journey behind the work—the problem, the insight, the observation, and the thinking that led to the solution.

A successful presentation should help people understand not only what was created, but why it was created.

Whenever I present a project, I try to begin with the human story behind it. What inspired the idea? What cultural phenomenon, social observation, or human insight sparked the concept? What challenge was being addressed? These questions help audiences connect emotionally with the work before they evaluate its appearance.

I also believe designers should present both the process and the outcome. Sketches, failed attempts, unexpected discoveries, and moments of experimentation often reveal more about a project's value than the final image alone. Showing the creative journey makes the work more authentic and relatable.

Another important aspect is context. A design should not exist in isolation. Whether it is a product, campaign, exhibition, or cultural project, audiences should understand how it interacts with people, society, and the environment around it.

In today's digital age, presentation has become increasingly visual and fast-paced. However, I believe the most memorable presentations still rely on one timeless element: storytelling.

People may forget a layout.

People may forget a color palette.

But they rarely forget a meaningful story.

If I could offer one piece of advice, it would be this:

**Do not simply show people what you designed. Help them understand why it matters.**

When people understand the meaning behind a design, they become far more likely to remember it.

Several projects are currently taking shape, but they are all connected by a common theme: exploring how culture, creativity, education, and emerging technologies can create meaningful human experiences.

One area I am particularly excited about is the development of interactive cultural experiences inspired by forgotten Chinese characters, vernacular language, and everyday Taiwanese culture. Rather than presenting culture as information, I want people to experience it through participation, play, and discovery. My goal is to transform language into something people can physically interact with and emotionally connect to.

I am also exploring the relationship between creativity and artificial intelligence. As both a designer and educator, I am interested in how AI can support human imagination without replacing it. Future projects will investigate how technology can help preserve cultural memory, encourage creativity, and create new forms of storytelling.

Another direction I hope to continue developing is inclusive co-creation. Some of my recent work has involved collaborations between university students and adults with Down syndrome, exploring how design can create opportunities for empathy, participation, and shared creativity. I believe design has an important role to play in building more inclusive and connected communities.

Looking further ahead, my long-term ambition is to create large-scale cultural experiences that combine storytelling, interaction, education, and public participation. I am interested in projects that help people rediscover the extraordinary stories hidden within ordinary life.

If there is one thing people can expect from my future work, it is this:

**I will continue exploring how design can transform culture into experience.**

Whether through exhibitions, public installations, education, research, or new technologies, my goal remains the same: to help people see familiar things from new perspectives and rediscover the value of the stories that surround them every day.

My ultimate goal as a designer is not to create more objects, win more awards, or build a larger portfolio.

My goal is to help people see the world differently.

Throughout my career, I have been fascinated by the extraordinary stories hidden within ordinary life. Whether it is a cloud floating in the sky, a cup of bubble tea, a forgotten Chinese character, a handwritten sign, or an internet expression, I have always been interested in revealing the cultural, emotional, and human meanings that often go unnoticed.

I believe design has the power to transform observation into understanding and curiosity into connection. The projects I am most proud of are not necessarily the ones that received recognition, but the ones that encouraged people to pause, reflect, smile, or see something familiar from a completely new perspective.

Looking ahead, I hope to continue creating experiences that connect people with culture, stories, and one another. I want to build bridges between generations, between tradition and innovation, and between technology and humanity.

If people remember me in the future, I do not hope they remember me simply as a designer.

I hope they remember me as someone who helped make culture more accessible, creativity more meaningful, and everyday life a little more fascinating.

Ultimately, I believe the role of a designer is not only to shape products or experiences.

It is to shape the way people see.

And if my work can inspire even a small sense of wonder, curiosity, or appreciation for the world around us, then I will feel that I have achieved my purpose as a designer.

I believe people expect more from experienced designers than simply creating beautiful or successful work.

As designers gain experience, they also gain responsibility.

Today, people may expect me to create innovative ideas, but I think they also expect me to share knowledge, nurture future generations, and contribute to society through design. In many ways, design is not only about making things—it is about creating understanding, encouraging dialogue, and helping people navigate a rapidly changing world.

As both a designer and educator, I feel a responsibility to help younger designers develop their own voices rather than simply follow trends. The creative industry changes constantly, but curiosity, empathy, critical thinking, and cultural awareness remain essential qualities that every designer should cultivate.

I also believe people expect experienced designers to provide perspective. In an era of information overload, technological disruption, and artificial intelligence, designers can help connect innovation with humanity. We can remind people that technology should serve human needs rather than define them.

Perhaps most importantly, I think people expect authenticity. Awards, titles, and professional achievements are meaningful, but they are not enough on their own. What truly matters is whether a designer continues to remain curious, continues to learn, and continues to create work that contributes something valuable to society.

If people expect anything from me, I hope it is not perfection.

I hope they expect curiosity.

I hope they expect cultural awareness.

I hope they expect a willingness to keep exploring new ideas and sharing them with others.

Because I believe the role of an experienced designer is not only to create meaningful work, but also to help inspire future creators to do the same.

Design helps create a better society by helping people understand one another.

Many of today's challenges are not caused by a lack of information. They are caused by misunderstandings, disconnection, and the inability to see things from another person's perspective. Good design can help bridge these gaps by making ideas clearer, experiences more accessible, and communication more meaningful.

Throughout my career, I have seen how design can connect people with culture, communities, education, and social issues. Design has the ability to transform complex concepts into experiences that people can understand, participate in, and remember. It can make invisible problems visible and encourage conversations that might not otherwise take place.

I also believe design plays an important role in preserving and reinterpreting culture. Society evolves rapidly, and many traditions, stories, and forms of knowledge risk being forgotten. Design can help translate these cultural assets into forms that are relevant and engaging for contemporary audiences, ensuring that they continue to inspire future generations.

Another important contribution of design is empathy. Good design encourages us to consider the needs, emotions, and experiences of others. Whether we are designing a product, a service, an exhibition, or a public space, the process begins with understanding people. In this way, design teaches us to be more attentive, inclusive, and compassionate.

As technology continues to reshape our lives, I believe the social value of design becomes even more important. Technology can provide tools, but design helps determine how those tools influence human behavior and society. It helps ensure that innovation remains connected to human values.

For me, the ultimate purpose of design is not simply to make things more beautiful or efficient.

It is to make society more connected, more thoughtful, and more human.

When design helps people understand each other a little better, it helps create a better society.

One of the areas I am most excited about right now is the intersection of culture, education, and emerging technologies.

In recent years, I have become increasingly interested in how design can help people experience culture rather than simply learn about it. Much of my current work focuses on transforming language, stories, and cultural heritage into interactive experiences that encourage participation, curiosity, and discovery.

One project I am particularly excited about explores rare and forgotten Chinese characters. Instead of presenting these characters through textbooks or exhibitions, I am developing interactive experiences that allow people to physically engage with their meanings through play, movement, and sensory interaction. My goal is to make language something people can experience rather than simply read.

I am also exploring how artificial intelligence can be used as a creative and educational tool while preserving human imagination and cultural identity. As both a designer and educator, I am fascinated by the challenge of helping people embrace new technologies without losing the curiosity, empathy, and creativity that make us human.

Another area that continues to inspire me is inclusive co-creation. Some of my recent projects have involved collaborations between university students and adults with Down syndrome, using design as a platform for dialogue, empathy, and shared creativity. These experiences have reinforced my belief that design can help build more inclusive and connected communities.

What excites me most is that all of these projects share a common goal:

**Transforming culture into experience.**

Whether through exhibitions, education, research, public participation, or new technologies, I am continually searching for ways to help people rediscover the stories, meanings, and cultural treasures hidden within everyday life.

I feel that the most exciting projects of my career may still be ahead of me, and that possibility continues to motivate me every day.

Several projects have given me tremendous satisfaction, but the most meaningful ones all share a common characteristic: they created emotional connections between people and ideas.

One project that remains especially memorable is **Dream Cloud**, a public experience that transformed a childhood imagination into reality. Seeing thousands of people interact with a floating cloud, share their dreams, and participate in a collective experience reminded me that design can inspire wonder and optimism. It showed me that imagination can have a real impact on people's lives.

Another project that brought me great satisfaction was **Taichung Sweet – Sweetness Within**, a city-wide Christmas installation created for Taichung City. Instead of a traditional Christmas tree, we transformed Taiwan's most iconic beverage, bubble tea, into a ten-meter-high landmark installation. What made the project special was not only its scale, but its ability to translate local culture into a shared urban experience that brought joy to thousands of citizens during a difficult period marked by uncertainty and the pandemic.

More recently, **The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup** has been one of the most rewarding projects of my career. It began with a simple observation about language but evolved into a broader conversation about culture, communication, identity, and collective memory. The project demonstrated that even the most ordinary expressions can contain extraordinary cultural significance when viewed from a different perspective.

Although these projects differ greatly in form, they all reinforced the same belief:

**The most satisfying design projects are not the ones that simply communicate messages. They are the ones that create meaningful experiences and lasting memories.**

Looking back, I am most proud of projects that encouraged people to smile, reflect, participate, or see familiar things in a new way.

For me, that is one of the greatest rewards a designer can receive.

One of the changes I would most like to see in the design industry is a renewed emphasis on thinking rather than simply producing.

Today, designers have access to more tools, technologies, and platforms than ever before. Artificial intelligence can generate images, layouts, text, and ideas in seconds. While these technologies are exciting and valuable, I sometimes worry that the industry is becoming increasingly focused on speed rather than understanding.

Good design has never been about how quickly something can be created.

It has always been about how deeply something can be understood.

I hope future designers continue to develop skills that technology cannot easily replace: curiosity, observation, empathy, cultural awareness, critical thinking, and storytelling. These qualities allow designers to create meaning rather than simply generate content.

I would also like to see more interdisciplinary collaboration. Many of today's challenges involve culture, education, sustainability, inclusion, technology, and social change. Designers should not work in isolation. The most meaningful innovations often emerge when designers collaborate with educators, scientists, engineers, artists, communities, and cultural practitioners.

Another change I hope to see is a greater appreciation for cultural diversity and local identity. In an increasingly globalized world, there is a risk that creative work becomes visually similar regardless of where it is produced. I believe design becomes richer when it reflects local stories, languages, traditions, and lived experiences.

Most importantly, I hope the industry continues to remember that design is ultimately about people.

Technology will continue to evolve.

Tools will continue to change.

But the purpose of design should remain the same: helping people understand, connect, and imagine better possibilities for the future.

If I could summarize my hope for the future of design in a single sentence, it would be this:

**I hope we create more meaning, not just more content.**

I believe the design field is entering one of the most transformative periods in its history.

For decades, designers were primarily responsible for creating visual forms, products, services, and experiences. Today, artificial intelligence is rapidly changing how these outputs are produced. Many tasks that once required significant technical expertise can now be completed in seconds.

Because of this, I believe the future value of designers will shift away from execution and toward meaning.

In the coming years, designers will be valued less for their ability to create images and more for their ability to ask meaningful questions, understand human behavior, interpret culture, and create experiences that resonate with people.

I also believe design will become increasingly interdisciplinary. The boundaries between design, technology, education, research, culture, entertainment, and social innovation will continue to blur. Future designers will need to collaborate across multiple fields and understand complex systems rather than isolated problems.

Another important trend is the growing role of cultural storytelling. As AI makes visual production more accessible, originality will come less from aesthetics alone and more from unique perspectives, local identities, and authentic human experiences. Designers who understand culture, history, language, and society will have a significant advantage.

I am also optimistic about the future of participatory design. People no longer want to be passive consumers. They want to contribute, interact, and become part of the experience. Future design will increasingly focus on engagement, co-creation, and meaningful participation.

Ultimately, I believe the designer of the future will be part creator, part storyteller, part educator, and part cultural translator.

Technology will continue to generate content.

But designers will continue to generate meaning.

If I had to summarize the future of design in a single sentence, it would be this:

**The future of design is not about making more things—it is about creating more meaningful human experiences.**

There is no single answer to this question because every project has its own timeline.

Some projects may be completed in a few weeks, while others take months or even years to fully develop. However, I have learned that the visible design process is often much shorter than the invisible one.

Many people assume a design project begins when a client provides a brief. In reality, some of my projects began years before they were officially commissioned. Ideas often emerge from long periods of observation, curiosity, and reflection.

For example, cultural projects such as The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup were not created overnight. They evolved from years of observing language, social behavior, internet culture, and everyday life. When the opportunity finally appeared, the concept already had a strong foundation.

Once a direction is established, I typically move quickly through concept development and execution. However, I spend a significant amount of time refining ideas, questioning assumptions, and searching for the simplest and most meaningful solution.

I often find that the best ideas appear surprisingly fast, while the confidence to trust those ideas takes much longer.

As a result, I do not usually measure a project by days or months.

I measure it by the time required to transform an observation into an insight and an insight into an experience.

If I had to summarize my process in a single sentence, it would be this:

**A design project may take weeks to produce, but sometimes it takes years to discover.**

Whenever I begin a new design project, I rarely start with visuals.

I start with questions.

Before thinking about colors, forms, layouts, or technologies, I try to understand the people behind the project. Who is this for? What are they feeling? What challenges do they face? What stories are hidden beneath the surface?

I believe every meaningful design begins with observation. Whether I am working on an advertising campaign, a cultural project, a public installation, or an educational initiative, I spend time observing behaviors, listening to conversations, studying cultural contexts, and searching for insights that others may have overlooked.

Once I identify an interesting observation, I begin asking why. Why does this behavior exist? Why do people respond in a particular way? Why does this story matter? Often, the answers reveal opportunities that are far more valuable than the original brief.

Only after understanding the human and cultural dimensions of a project do I begin developing concepts and visual solutions. At that stage, sketching, brainstorming, and storytelling become tools for exploring possibilities.

Over the years, I have realized that the most successful projects often begin with a simple observation rather than a complex strategy.

A cloud.

A bubble tea cup.

A handwritten sign.

A forgotten Chinese character.

An internet expression.

Many of my projects started with something small that most people would simply walk past.

If I had to describe my starting point in a single sentence, it would be this:

**I begin every project by observing people and asking better questions.**

Because good design does not start with answers.

It starts with curiosity.

My life motto as a designer is simple:

**"See what others overlook."**

Throughout my career, I have discovered that many of the most meaningful ideas are hidden in ordinary places. A handwritten sign, a forgotten Chinese character, a local tradition, an internet expression, or a simple conversation can all contain remarkable stories waiting to be discovered.

Design, for me, is not primarily about creating something new. It is about seeing something familiar with new eyes and revealing its hidden value to others.

This philosophy has guided many of my projects, from cultural initiatives and public installations to educational programs and advertising campaigns. Again and again, I have found that extraordinary ideas often emerge from things that people encounter every day but rarely notice.

Another quote that has deeply influenced me comes from the French writer Marcel Proust:

**"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes."**

I believe this idea captures the essence of creativity. The world is already filled with fascinating stories, cultures, people, and experiences. The challenge is not finding them—it is learning how to see them.

As a designer, I try to remain curious, observant, and open to unexpected connections. Every project is an opportunity to rediscover something that was already there but had not yet been appreciated.

If there is one principle I hope to carry throughout my life and career, it is this:

**Never lose the ability to wonder about ordinary things.**

Because that is often where the most extraordinary ideas begin.

I believe the relationship between design and trends is not one-directional.

Trends influence design, and design influences trends. They continuously shape one another.

Trends often reflect changes in technology, culture, society, and human behavior. Good designers pay attention to these signals because they reveal how people are thinking, communicating, and living at a particular moment in time.

However, I do not believe great design should simply follow trends.

If designers only chase what is currently popular, their work may quickly become outdated. Trends come and go, but meaningful ideas often endure far longer.

Throughout my career, I have found that the most memorable projects rarely begin with a trend. They begin with an observation, a human insight, or a cultural story. Sometimes these ideas happen to align with trends, but often they create new directions that others later follow.

I think designers should understand trends without becoming dependent on them. Trends can provide context, but they should not dictate creative thinking.

In today's world, trends move faster than ever. Social media, digital platforms, and artificial intelligence can accelerate the spread of visual styles almost instantly. This makes originality, cultural understanding, and authentic perspectives even more valuable.

If I had to summarize my view in a single sentence, it would be this:

**Trends tell us what people are paying attention to today. Design helps people imagine what could matter tomorrow.**

The designers I admire most are not those who simply follow trends.

They are the ones who help create the future that trends eventually follow.

Technology has always been an important part of my design process, but I have never viewed it as the starting point.

For me, technology is a tool rather than a destination.

Throughout my career, I have witnessed the transition from traditional manual production to digital design, social media, mobile platforms, and now artificial intelligence. Each technological shift has changed the way designers work, but the fundamental purpose of design has remained the same: understanding people and creating meaningful experiences.

I embrace technology because it expands creative possibilities. It allows designers to communicate ideas more effectively, reach larger audiences, and transform concepts into reality in ways that were previously impossible. Technology can help us work faster, visualize ideas more clearly, and experiment more freely.

At the same time, I believe technology should support human creativity rather than replace it. Curiosity, empathy, cultural understanding, storytelling, and imagination remain at the heart of meaningful design. These qualities give direction and purpose to the tools we use.

Today, artificial intelligence is transforming the creative industry. While AI can generate images, text, and countless variations within seconds, it cannot replace the human experiences, observations, and cultural insights that inspire truly meaningful work. I see AI as a creative partner, not a creative substitute.

The role of technology in my work is therefore quite simple:

It helps me realize ideas.

It does not create the ideas for me.

If I had to summarize my philosophy in a single sentence, it would be this:

**Technology expands possibilities, but human creativity gives them meaning.**

My toolbox combines traditional creative practices with contemporary digital technologies.

For visual design and communication projects, I primarily use Adobe Creative Cloud applications, including Photoshop, Illustrator, InDesign, Premiere Pro, and After Effects. These tools remain essential for developing visual concepts, branding systems, presentations, and multimedia content.

In recent years, I have also incorporated AI-powered creative tools into my workflow. I am interested in exploring how artificial intelligence can assist with ideation, visualization, content development, and creative experimentation. However, I view these technologies as creative partners rather than replacements for human thinking.

Despite working extensively with digital tools, some of my most important design tools remain surprisingly simple. I still rely heavily on sketchbooks, handwritten notes, mind maps, and quick conceptual drawings when developing ideas. Many projects begin with pen and paper long before they reach a computer screen.

Beyond software and hardware, I consider observation to be one of my most valuable tools. Conversations with people, books, films, music, calligraphy, cultural research, and everyday experiences continuously provide inspiration for my work.

In fact, some of my favorite creative tools cannot be purchased:

**Curiosity, observation, imagination, and storytelling.**

Software helps me execute ideas.

Those human qualities help me create them.

I believe color, materials, and environment are not merely decorative elements. Together, they shape how people feel, perceive, and remember an experience.

Color is often the first thing people notice. It can attract attention, communicate emotion, establish identity, and influence mood within seconds. Whether in branding, exhibitions, public installations, or visual communication, color acts as an immediate emotional language that helps people connect with an idea before they fully understand it.

Materials play a different but equally important role. Materials influence how people experience authenticity, quality, and meaning. A design may look beautiful in an image, but materials determine how it feels in reality. The texture of paper, the weight of an object, the surface of a structure, or the brushstroke of calligraphy all contribute to how people emotionally connect with a design.

Environment is perhaps the most powerful element of all because it transforms individual components into an experience. The same object can feel completely different depending on its surroundings. Light, sound, scale, movement, and context all shape how people interact with a design and how they remember it afterward.

Throughout my career, I have become increasingly interested in creating experiences rather than simply objects. In this context, color attracts attention, materials build emotional trust, and environment creates immersion.

If I had to summarize their relationship in a single sentence, it would be this:

**Color attracts, materials convince, and environment transforms.**

When these three elements work together successfully, design becomes more than something people see—it becomes something they experience and remember.

The question I most hope people ask about my work is:

**"Why?"**

Why was this created?

Why does this idea matter?

Why did this ordinary object, word, story, or cultural phenomenon become the foundation of a design project?

Throughout my career, I have discovered that the most meaningful aspect of design is rarely the final form itself. What interests me most is the observation, insight, or story that exists beneath the surface. A cloud, a bubble tea cup, a handwritten sign, a forgotten Chinese character, or an internet expression may seem ordinary at first glance, but each contains deeper cultural and human meanings.

When people ask "why," they move beyond appearance and begin exploring intention. They become interested not only in what was designed, but in the ideas, emotions, and observations that inspired it.

I believe great design is not simply about creating attractive visuals or innovative experiences. It is about revealing something that people may not have noticed before. The most rewarding conversations happen when people become curious about the thinking behind the work rather than the work alone.

In many ways, every project I create is an invitation to look at familiar things differently.

So if there is one question I hope people continue asking, it is:

**"Why did you see something special in this?"**

Because the answer to that question usually leads to the most interesting stories.

When I encounter a truly great design, my first reaction is usually not admiration for its appearance.

My first thought is:

**"What did they notice that everyone else missed?"**

I am always curious about the observation, insight, or question that led to the design. Great design rarely begins with aesthetics alone. It usually begins with a unique way of seeing the world.

I often find myself trying to reverse-engineer the creative process. What human behavior inspired this idea? What problem did they redefine? What cultural insight did they uncover? What made them look at something familiar and suddenly see it differently?

Another thing I admire is simplicity. When a design appears effortless yet communicates something profound, I know I am looking at exceptional work. The more experience I gain, the more I appreciate designs that achieve clarity without sacrificing meaning.

I am also fascinated by designs that surprise me. Not because they are visually shocking, but because they reveal a perspective I had never considered before. Those moments remind me that creativity is not only about making things—it is about expanding the way people think.

Ultimately, when I see a great design, I feel inspired rather than intimidated.

I do not think, "I wish I had created that."

I think,

**"I wish I had seen what they saw."**

Because great design often begins with great observation.

And every extraordinary idea starts with someone noticing something that others overlooked.

I strongly believe in co-design.

Some of the most meaningful projects in my career would never have been possible if I had worked alone. Creativity often grows stronger when different perspectives, experiences, and forms of expertise come together.

My ideal design partner is not necessarily another designer.

In fact, I am often most inspired by people from completely different disciplines—educators, writers, artists, engineers, cultural practitioners, researchers, musicians, community leaders, and even people with no formal design training at all.

Throughout my career, I have learned that great ideas frequently emerge at the intersection of different worlds. When people with different backgrounds collaborate, they challenge assumptions, introduce new perspectives, and reveal possibilities that a single individual might never discover alone.

This belief has influenced many of my projects. Whether working with government agencies, cultural organizations, students, people with Down syndrome, or interdisciplinary teams, I have repeatedly seen how collaboration can transform a good idea into something far richer and more meaningful.

At the same time, successful collaboration requires more than simply gathering talented people together. It requires curiosity, respect, and a willingness to listen. The best design partners are not those who always agree with you. They are the ones who help you see what you could not see by yourself.

Perhaps that is why I enjoy teaching as much as designing. Every classroom is a form of co-design. Every conversation becomes an opportunity to exchange ideas, challenge assumptions, and create something new together.

If I had to describe my ideal design partner, I would say:

**Someone who sees the world differently from me.**

Because the purpose of collaboration is not to confirm what we already know.

It is to discover what we could never have discovered alone.

The people who have influenced my design the most are often not famous designers, artists, or creative directors.

They are ordinary people.

Throughout my career, I have worked with government officials, business leaders, factory workers, street vendors, teachers, students, nonprofit organizations, cultural practitioners, and community members from many different backgrounds. Each group helped me understand the world from a different perspective.

My years in advertising taught me to listen carefully to clients and audiences. Every brand, industry, and organization has its own challenges, aspirations, and ways of communicating. Understanding these differences taught me that successful design begins with empathy rather than self-expression.

As an educator, my students have also had a profound influence on my thinking. Every generation sees the world differently. Their questions, concerns, values, and creativity constantly challenge me to rethink assumptions and remain open to new possibilities.

Some of the most meaningful influences came from people outside the design profession altogether. Conversations with street vendors, handwritten sign makers, local storytellers, and community members often inspired ideas that later became design projects. They reminded me that creativity exists everywhere, not only within creative industries.

More recently, collaborative projects involving adults with Down syndrome and other underrepresented communities have deepened my understanding of inclusion, participation, and human-centered design. These experiences reinforced my belief that good design should create opportunities for connection rather than separation.

Looking back, I realize that my greatest teachers were often the people least likely to describe themselves as creative professionals.

They taught me how people live, communicate, hope, struggle, celebrate, and make meaning in everyday life.

If there is one group that has influenced my work more than any other, it is ordinary people.

Because every meaningful design ultimately begins with understanding human experience.

And no one teaches that better than life itself.

Many of the books that influenced my design thinking are not actually design books.

Throughout my life, I have been inspired as much by literature, philosophy, storytelling, and cultural studies as by design itself. These works helped shape the way I observe the world and understand people, which I believe is at the heart of meaningful design.

One of the most influential writers for me is **Marcel Proust**. His famous observation that *"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes"* has become a guiding principle throughout my creative life. It reminds me that creativity often begins with seeing familiar things differently.

I have also been influenced by **Joseph Campbell's** work on mythology and storytelling, particularly *The Hero with a Thousand Faces*. His exploration of universal narrative patterns helped me understand how stories connect people across cultures and generations. As a designer, I often think of projects as stories waiting to be told.

Another book that left a strong impression on me is **Creative Confidence** by David and Tom Kelley. It reinforced my belief that creativity is not a talent reserved for a few individuals, but a human capacity that can be developed through curiosity, experimentation, and practice.

Beyond these books, I have been deeply influenced by classical Chinese literature, poetry, and calligraphy theory. These traditions taught me to appreciate rhythm, symbolism, balance, restraint, and the emotional power of simplicity. Their influence continues to appear in my work today, even when I am designing contemporary projects.

Looking back, I realize that the books that influenced me most were not those that taught me how to design.

They taught me how to observe.

And once you learn how to observe, design becomes a natural extension of that way of seeing the world.

I did not develop my skills through a single method, mentor, or turning point.

My growth as a designer has been the result of continuous learning across different disciplines, industries, and stages of life.

My journey began with traditional art education. As a student, I studied drawing, watercolor painting, calligraphy, seal engraving, Chinese landscape painting, and literature. These experiences trained my eye, strengthened my sensitivity to form and composition, and taught me to appreciate the relationship between culture and visual expression.

The next stage of growth came through more than two decades in the advertising industry. Advertising is a demanding teacher. Every project requires creativity, strategic thinking, communication, collaboration, and the ability to connect with real audiences. The industry taught me that ideas are only valuable when they can create understanding and engagement.

Over the years, I worked with clients from many different sectors, including government organizations, commercial brands, nonprofit institutions, and cultural organizations. Each project exposed me to new challenges and new perspectives, forcing me to continuously adapt and expand my thinking.

Teaching also played a major role in my development. Becoming a university professor challenged me to explain ideas that I had previously understood only through experience. It pushed me to reflect on my own design process and encouraged me to continue learning from younger generations.

Perhaps the most important factor, however, has been curiosity.

I have always been interested in subjects beyond design, including culture, language, music, film, storytelling, psychology, education, and technology. Many of my most meaningful projects emerged from connecting ideas across these different fields.

Looking back, I do not believe master designers are created by talent alone.

They are shaped by experience, observation, persistence, and a willingness to remain a student throughout life.

If there is one habit that helped me develop my skills more than anything else, it is this:

**Never stop learning, and never assume you already know enough.**

Because every project, every person, and every experience still has something new to teach us.

If time and space were no limitation, I would love to sit around the same table with several extraordinary creators from different disciplines and simply listen to how they think.

One of the first people I would invite would be **Robert Zemeckis** and **Bob Gale**, the creative minds behind the *Back to the Future* trilogy. I would love to discuss storytelling, imagination, and how they constructed one of the most brilliantly interconnected narratives in cinema history. Their ability to make complex ideas feel effortless continues to fascinate me.

I would also love to meet **David Foster**. His music has influenced generations of listeners around the world. I would be curious to understand how he balances artistic expression with mass appeal, and how he transforms simple melodies into timeless emotional experiences.

Another person on my list would be the legendary jazz pianist **Art Tatum**. His improvisational ability was so extraordinary that it continues to amaze musicians decades later. I would love to understand how he approached creativity, spontaneity, and mastery at such a remarkable level.

From the world of design, I would choose **Dieter Rams**. His work was never simply about products; it was about anticipating how people might live in the future. I would enjoy discussing the relationship between simplicity, technology, and humanity, especially in today's AI-driven era.

As someone deeply influenced by Chinese calligraphy, I would also be honored to meet **Tong Yang-Tze**. Her work embodies a rare balance between discipline and freedom. I would love to discuss the relationship between tradition, contemporary expression, and the emotional power of a single brushstroke.

However, if I am completely honest, there is one more group of people I would like to invite to that conversation:

Ordinary people from different periods of history.

The market vendors, storytellers, craftsmen, writers, travelers, and everyday citizens whose lives shaped the cultures we inherit today.

Many of my design projects originate from ordinary life rather than extraordinary fame.

Perhaps that is why the conversation I would most enjoy is one that brings together great masters and ordinary people around the same table.

Because creativity does not belong exclusively to legends.

It belongs to anyone who sees the world with curiosity.

And that is a conversation I would never want to end.

I am grateful for every award and recognition I have received throughout my career, but I have never viewed awards as the ultimate goal of design.

For me, awards are milestones rather than destinations.

They provide an opportunity to reflect on a project, celebrate the efforts of everyone involved, and share ideas with a wider audience. Recognition can help a design reach people who might never have encountered it otherwise, and for that reason I deeply appreciate the value of design awards.

At the same time, I have learned that awards represent only a small moment within a much longer creative journey.

Most of my time is not spent receiving recognition. It is spent observing people, developing ideas, teaching students, collaborating with communities, conducting research, and working through the challenges of bringing concepts to life. Those experiences continue regardless of whether a project receives an award.

As for fame, I do not think of myself as famous.

I think of myself as fortunate.

Fortunate to have spent more than two decades doing work that I genuinely enjoy. Fortunate to collaborate with talented people. Fortunate to continue learning as both a designer and educator.

If recognition brings any responsibility, it is the responsibility to remain curious, humble, and willing to share what I have learned with others.

The older I become, the more I realize that recognition is temporary, but contribution lasts much longer.

Awards may acknowledge a project.

But the true value of design lies in how it influences people, culture, and society over time.

If I hope to be remembered for anything, it is not the number of awards I received.

It is the ideas, experiences, and opportunities I was able to create for others through design.

That, to me, is far more meaningful than fame.

My favorite color is blue.
Perhaps it is because blue often represents imagination, openness, and possibility. It can be calm and reflective, yet it can also suggest infinite space, whether in the sky or the ocean. Many of my projects begin with a sense of curiosity, and blue reminds me of that feeling.
My favorite place is a city street filled with everyday life. While I enjoy museums and galleries, I often find my greatest inspiration in ordinary places—traditional markets, small alleyways, coffee shops, train stations, and neighborhoods where people live their daily lives. These environments are full of stories waiting to be discovered.
My favorite food is Taiwanese street food. From night market snacks to local comfort foods, I appreciate how food reflects culture, memory, and community. Like design, food often tells stories about where people come from and how they live.
My favorite season is autumn. I enjoy its balance between energy and reflection. The weather becomes more comfortable, the colors become richer, and there is a sense of transition that I find creatively inspiring.
ne of my favorite things is a calligraphy brush.
A brush carries endless possibilities. I am fascinated by the expressive power of flying-white strokes, the tension between ink and emptiness, and the unexpected beauty that emerges when a line escapes complete control. Every stroke records a unique moment in time—one that can never be repeated.
For me, calligraphy is more than writing. It is a form of observation, rhythm, and freedom. The encounter between intention and accident, structure and spontaneity, often creates the most beautiful results.
Many of my design ideas originate from the same belief: meaningful creativity happens when we allow room for discovery. Just as a brushstroke may unexpectedly reveal new energy, a design project often becomes most interesting when it leads us somewhere we did not originally plan to go.
As for brands, I tend to admire brands that combine innovation with humanity. One example is Apple, not only because of its products but because of its ability to integrate technology, design, and storytelling into a coherent experience. I also admire organizations and cultural institutions that use creativity to make meaningful contributions to society.
If there is a common thread connecting all of these preferences, it is probably this:
I am drawn to things that combine simplicity with depth.
The more I learn about design, the more I appreciate experiences that appear simple on the surface but reveal greater meaning over time.

One funny memory from my career happened during the development of a project called **Dream Cloud**.

The concept sounded beautifully simple: create a giant floating cloud that would travel through public spaces, collect people's dreams and encouragements, and inspire them to keep pursuing their goals.

On paper, it felt magical.

In reality, it turned out that controlling a giant floating cloud was far more difficult than designing one.

During one of our early tests, the cloud had its own ideas about where it wanted to go. Instead of following our carefully planned route, it drifted unpredictably, forcing the team to chase after it while trying to maintain a professional appearance. At one point, the situation looked less like a design project and more like a group of adults desperately pursuing an oversized runaway balloon.

What made the experience memorable was the contrast between imagination and reality. Designers often create beautiful sketches where everything works perfectly. Real life has a way of reminding us that gravity, wind, weather, and physics also want to participate in the design process.

Fortunately, the project was ultimately successful and reached thousands of people. Looking back, the experience taught me an important lesson: sometimes the most creative part of a project is not the original idea, but learning how to adapt when reality refuses to follow the plan.

Even today, whenever I see a cloud drifting across the sky, I cannot help but smile and remember the day we had to chase one through the city.

What makes my day great as a designer is discovering something I had never noticed before.

It could be a conversation with a student, an unusual handwritten sign on a street corner, a forgotten word, an unexpected cultural detail, or simply a new way of looking at a familiar situation. These small moments of discovery often become the starting points for future ideas.

After more than two decades in the creative industry, I have realized that what excites me most is not necessarily finishing a project. It is the moment when an observation suddenly transforms into an insight. Those moments still give me the same excitement I felt when I first entered the design profession.

Teaching also plays an important role in keeping me motivated. Every semester, my students introduce me to new perspectives, technologies, and ways of thinking. Their curiosity challenges me to remain curious as well. In many ways, the classroom has become one of my most important sources of inspiration.

I am also motivated by the possibility that a design can change the way people see something. Whenever a project encourages someone to smile, think differently, rediscover a cultural story, or notice something they previously overlooked, I feel that the effort was worthwhile.

As for motivation, I do not wait for inspiration to arrive.

Instead, I try to remain curious every day.

Curiosity is a remarkably sustainable source of motivation because the world is constantly changing. There is always a new story to discover, a new question to ask, or a new connection to explore.

If I had to summarize what keeps me motivated, it would be this:

**The belief that the next interesting idea could be hiding anywhere.**

That possibility makes every day feel a little like an adventure.

To some extent, yes.

When I was a university student, I had already set two ambitious goals for myself: I wanted to become a Creative Director in the advertising and design industry, and I also hoped to become a university professor one day.

These goals gave me a clear direction early in life. While many of my classmates were still exploring different possibilities, I was already challenging myself through creative competitions, professional projects, and continuous learning. I knew that if I wanted to lead creative work, I would need both practical experience and a strong academic foundation.

Interestingly, design was not my only passion.

At different stages of my life, I was also involved in acting and music. I worked as an actor for a period of time and learned how storytelling, emotion, and performance could connect with audiences. I was equally fascinated by songwriting and eventually wrote six original songs that were adopted by various brands as advertising music. Seeing something that began as a personal creative idea become part of a public campaign brought me tremendous satisfaction and reinforced my belief in the power of creativity across different disciplines.

Looking back, I realize that these experiences were not separate from design. Acting taught me empathy and audience engagement. Music taught me rhythm, emotion, and narrative structure. Together, they helped shape the way I approach creativity today.

At the same time, I remained committed to my long-term goals. While building my career in advertising, I continued my education, pursued advanced degrees, and worked toward becoming an educator. Over time, I was fortunate enough to achieve both dreams: becoming a creative leader in the industry and a university professor.

So was it obvious that I would become a designer?

Perhaps not.

But it was obvious that I wanted to become a creator.

Whether through design, advertising, acting, music, teaching, or storytelling, I have always been driven by the desire to communicate ideas, inspire people, and create meaningful experiences.

Looking back, I believe success did not come from talent alone. It came from having a vision, remaining persistent, and never stopping learning.

And in many ways, I am still pursuing that same dream today.

Thinking about a thousand years into the future is both exciting and humbling.

I believe technology will evolve far beyond anything we can currently imagine. Artificial intelligence, biotechnology, space exploration, and forms of communication that do not yet exist will likely transform every aspect of human life. The tools available to future generations may make today's innovations appear as primitive as ancient tools seem to us now.

However, despite these extraordinary changes, I believe the most important aspects of humanity will remain surprisingly familiar.

People will still tell stories.

People will still seek meaning.

People will still fall in love, dream about the future, worry about uncertainty, and search for a sense of belonging.

Throughout history, technologies have changed dramatically, but human curiosity has remained remarkably constant. Thousands of years ago, people looked at the stars and wondered what existed beyond them. Today, we ask similar questions using more advanced tools. I suspect people a thousand years from now will continue asking questions that are fundamentally human.

As a designer, I am particularly interested in how culture will evolve. Languages may change, societies may transform, and entirely new forms of creativity may emerge. Yet I believe people will still use stories, symbols, music, art, and design to understand themselves and communicate with others.

Perhaps the greatest challenge of the future will not be creating more technology.

It will be preserving humanity within technology.

In a world of increasingly intelligent machines, the qualities that make us uniquely human—imagination, empathy, humor, creativity, and cultural memory—may become even more valuable.

If I had to make one prediction, it would be this:

**A thousand years from now, our tools will be unimaginably different, but our desire to create, connect, and tell stories will remain the same.**

And as long as that remains true, design will continue to play an essential role in human civilization.

If there is one thing I would like people to know about me, it is that I have never been interested in design for its own sake.

I have always been interested in people.

Throughout my life, I have been fortunate to explore many different creative paths—as an artist, actor, songwriter, advertising professional, educator, researcher, and designer. Looking back, I realize that these experiences were never separate journeys. They were all different ways of pursuing the same goal: understanding people and telling meaningful stories.

Many of my projects begin with things that others might overlook—a handwritten sign, a forgotten Chinese character, a local tradition, an internet expression, a conversation, or a simple observation from everyday life. I have always believed that extraordinary stories are often hidden inside ordinary things.

Perhaps that is why I continue to remain curious.

Curiosity has taken me from calligraphy and traditional art to advertising, music, education, cultural research, and emerging technologies. It has introduced me to remarkable people, unexpected opportunities, and ideas I could never have imagined when I first started my career.

If there is one message I hope people take away from my work, it is this:

**Never underestimate the value of ordinary things.**

Culture lives in everyday life.

Creativity lives in curiosity.

And meaningful ideas often begin where most people stop looking.

As for the future, I hope to continue creating work that helps people see familiar things from new perspectives, discover hidden stories, and reconnect with the sense of wonder that often disappears as we grow older.

In the end, I do not hope to be remembered simply for the projects I created or the awards I received.

I hope to be remembered as someone who remained curious, shared stories generously, and encouraged others to look at the world a little differently.

Because sometimes changing the way we see is the first step toward changing what is possible.

My design journey has evolved alongside the transformation of the creative industry itself.

I began my career at the very end of the hand-crafted production era, when layouts were still manually assembled and designers relied on physical materials, knives, markers, and mechanical artwork. Soon after, I witnessed the rise of computer graphics and digital design tools, which fundamentally changed how creative work was produced.

As the industry evolved, I experienced the golden age of print advertising and television commercials, followed by the emergence of digital advertising and Flash-based event websites, which opened entirely new possibilities for interactive storytelling. Then came the era of social media, branded content, and microfilms, where audiences no longer simply received messages but actively participated in conversations. More recently, influencer marketing, short-form video platforms, and technology-driven creative experiences have redefined how brands connect with people. Today, we are entering yet another transformative chapter shaped by artificial intelligence.

Looking back, almost every tool, platform, and communication channel has changed. Yet one thing has remained remarkably constant: the essence of creativity.

Technology continues to evolve, but great ideas still begin with human curiosity, empathy, observation, and imagination. Throughout my career, I have learned that successful design is never about chasing the latest technology. It is about understanding people and finding meaningful ways to connect with them.

This belief is also why the Bauhaus philosophy continues to inspire me. The idea that art, technology, and everyday life should work together remains just as relevant today as it was a century ago. Whether creating advertising campaigns, cultural projects, educational initiatives, or AI-assisted experiences, I strive to ensure that technology serves human creativity rather than replacing it.

Today, my work bridges both industry and academia. In addition to professional practice, I teach the next generation of designers and communicators. While AI has become an important tool, I encourage students not to rely solely on it. Instead, I challenge them to develop their own creative thinking, cultural awareness, and problem-solving abilities. I believe the future belongs not to those who use AI the most, but to those who know how to combine technology with original human insight.

One of the greatest rewards of my career has been seeing students grow into confident creators and receive recognition in international design competitions. More importantly, I hope they leave with the understanding that design is not simply a profession—it is a way of observing the world, understanding people, and creating positive change.

After more than two decades in the creative field, I remain excited about what comes next. The tools will continue to change, but the core of creativity—the human desire to communicate, inspire, and connect—will always remain the same.

In today's AI-driven world, I often find myself returning to a simple belief: design is storytelling.

For me, every design project is an invitation to a journey. The designer becomes a storyteller, and the audience becomes a traveler. Sometimes we invite people into a castle filled with mystery and imagination. Sometimes we take them to a remote island where they can rediscover simplicity and wonder. At other times, we help them leave the boundaries of Earth entirely and drift beyond the galaxy, standing in awe before the Pillars of Creation, experiencing something larger than themselves.

Design, to me, is the art of building worlds.

Great design allows people to temporarily leave reality and enter a story. Within that story, they can feel joy, nostalgia, curiosity, empathy, or inspiration. Long after the visuals are forgotten, it is often the story and the emotions that remain.

That is why, despite all the technological changes I have witnessed throughout my career, I still believe the essence of design is storytelling. Technology evolves, but human beings will always seek meaning, connection, and wonder. Design is one of the most powerful ways to provide all three.

The works I enjoy designing most are those that allow me to transform culture, human experiences, and social issues into meaningful stories.

Throughout my career, I have found myself increasingly drawn to projects that go beyond commercial objectives. While I have worked extensively in advertising and brand communication, the projects that stay with me the longest are those that help people see something familiar from a new perspective. I enjoy uncovering overlooked cultural details, forgotten stories, local traditions, and everyday human experiences, then translating them into engaging and accessible forms through design.

Many of my favorite projects sit at the intersection of culture, education, and social impact. For example, I have explored Taiwan's vernacular visual culture through street calligraphy, transformed internet language into cultural experiences, and guided collaborative design projects involving adults with Down syndrome. These projects remind me that design is not only about communication; it is also about empathy, participation, and connection.

I am particularly interested in works that invite people to become part of the story. Rather than simply delivering a message, I enjoy creating experiences that encourage curiosity, reflection, interaction, and discovery. Whether through advertising campaigns, cultural exhibitions, educational projects, or interactive installations, I want audiences to feel that they are entering a world rather than merely observing it.
In recent years, I have become increasingly fascinated by the sparks that emerge when creativity meets the right medium.

Throughout my career, I have witnessed the evolution of communication channels—from print advertising and television commercials to interactive websites, social media, influencer marketing, short-form videos, and now artificial intelligence. Each new medium brings unique possibilities, challenges, and ways of engaging audiences.

What excites me most is not the technology itself, but the moment when an idea finds its perfect form of expression. A great concept placed in the right medium can become far more powerful than anyone imagined. In many ways, I believe creativity works like human potential: a genius is often simply an ordinary person who has found the right place to shine. Conversely, even extraordinary talent can appear ordinary when placed in the wrong environment.

The same principle applies to design and communication. The success of an idea often depends on finding the medium that allows it to reveal its fullest potential. When creativity and media align, something magical happens. A story becomes more immersive, an experience becomes more memorable, and a message becomes more meaningful.

That is why I remain endlessly curious about new technologies and emerging platforms—not because they are new, but because each one offers another opportunity to discover new ways for ideas to come alive.

Ultimately, the projects I love most are those that combine creativity with purpose—works that make people smile, think, feel, and perhaps even see the world differently after the experience.

People often expect designers to name a specific project when asked about their favorite design. Surprisingly, I find this question difficult to answer because my favorite designs are not necessarily the most awarded, the most famous, or even the most commercially successful.

The projects that stay with me the longest are those that change the way people see the world.

One example was a collaborative design project involving adults with Down syndrome and university students. At first glance, it seemed like a design exercise. However, it gradually became something much deeper. Students began to realize that creativity is not determined by age, educational background, or intellectual ability. Through the process of co-creation, both groups learned from one another and discovered perspectives they might never have encountered otherwise. The final designs were important, but the human connections created through the process were even more meaningful.

I feel the same way about cultural projects. Some of my work has focused on preserving Taiwan's vernacular visual culture, such as traditional street calligraphy and everyday handwritten signs. These elements are often overlooked because they are so familiar. Yet hidden within them are stories about local communities, collective memories, and cultural identity. I enjoy transforming these ordinary visual experiences into opportunities for people to rediscover their own culture.

More recently, projects such as The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup have continued this exploration. What fascinated me was the possibility of transforming an everyday internet expression into a cultural conversation. The project invited people to reflect on language, humor, social interaction, and contemporary culture in ways that were both playful and meaningful.

Perhaps that is why I struggle to choose a single favorite design. For me, the most meaningful designs are not objects, advertisements, or installations. They are experiences that help people see something familiar from a different perspective, understand others more deeply, or reconnect with a part of themselves they had forgotten.

If I had to choose a favorite design, it would be any project that succeeds in creating that moment of discovery.

Before studying design at university, my artistic training was deeply rooted in traditional fine arts. I spent years learning drawing, watercolor painting, printmaking, calligraphy, seal engraving, as well as traditional Chinese landscape painting and flower-and-bird painting. During high school, I attended an art school where we were encouraged not only to create visual works but also to immerse ourselves in literature, philosophy, and classical Chinese poetry. Looking back, this experience taught me that creativity is not limited to images—it is equally shaped by language, culture, history, and imagination.
The influence of traditional Chinese art remains with me today. Landscape painting taught me how to appreciate space, rhythm, and perspective, while flower-and-bird painting cultivated patience, observation, and sensitivity to the beauty of everyday life. Combined with my later training in design and communication, these experiences helped shape a creative approach that values both artistic expression and human connection.
The first design project that truly changed my life came during my university years. We were asked to create a poster related to career planning and the future of university students. Rather than focusing solely on visual aesthetics, I became fascinated by the idea of storytelling. I developed a concept supported by four different copywriting directions, each exploring a different vision of the future and personal growth.
To my surprise, the project won First Prize. Even more exciting was that the organizing institution adopted my copywriting and design concept for a large-scale promotional campaign across the university's media channels. For the first time, I saw an idea that had existed only in my imagination become something that reached and influenced thousands of people.
I still remember the feeling. It was not the award itself that impressed me most, but the realization that design and storytelling could inspire people, shape conversations, and create emotional connections. At that moment, I understood that design was much more than arranging images and text—it was a powerful way of communicating ideas and helping people imagine new possibilities.
That experience remains one of the defining moments of my career. It was the first time I truly felt the magic of design, and it continues to influence how I approach creativity today.

What excites me most is not a specific material, platform, or technology. What truly fascinates me is any medium that allows imagination to become reality.

As a child, I was constantly imagining impossible things—objects that could fly, stories that could come alive, and worlds that existed only in my mind. Perhaps that is why I became a designer. Design gave me a way to transform those childhood fantasies into experiences that other people could actually see, touch, and feel.

One of my favorite projects was created in 2018 for Hey Song and Dream Cloud. Together with my team, we designed a giant floating cloud-shaped balloon that could travel through city streets and even fly into Taoyuan International Baseball Stadium during an opening ceremony. For many people, it felt as if a real cloud had drifted down from the sky.

What made the project even more meaningful was that the cloud contained numerous miniature cameras. As it traveled, it captured people's encouragement, smiles, hand gestures, and messages of support. We later transformed these moments into gifts for individuals and groups who had been quietly pursuing their dreams.

The campaign was built around a simple idea: "Never let go until your dream comes true."

For me, the most magical moment was not seeing the finished design, but watching a childhood fantasy become real. Suddenly, a cloud was no longer something distant in the sky—it was something we could guide, interact with, and share with others. It reminded me that design has the unique ability to turn imagination into reality and allow people to experience wonder, even if only for a moment.

That is why I am constantly excited by new materials, technologies, and platforms. Not because they are innovative, but because they give us new ways to make the impossible feel possible. Whenever a medium allows people to experience the same sense of curiosity and wonder that I felt as a child, it becomes my favorite medium.

I feel the most creative when I am trying to make the impossible feel real. As a child, I imagined clouds that could fly beside people and everyday words that could become tangible objects. Today, design allows me to transform those fantasies into reality. The moment when an impossible idea suddenly becomes achievable is when creativity feels most alive to me. That excitement continues to drive my work, whether in advertising, cultural projects, or interactive experiences.

I focus most on meaning, emotional resonance, and participation. A design should do more than look attractive; it should create a connection between people and ideas. I am particularly interested in how design can transform everyday language, cultural behaviors, and collective memories into engaging experiences. Therefore, I often ask whether a design can spark conversation, encourage interaction, and leave a lasting emotional impression. When people become part of the story rather than simply observing it, I believe the design becomes truly meaningful.

For me, designing is a combination of curiosity and joy. I enjoy questioning familiar things and imagining how they could be experienced differently. Whether transforming a common expression into a cultural object or turning an abstract idea into a tangible experience, I often feel excited by the possibility of making people smile, think, or see something from a new perspective. The greatest satisfaction comes when an idea that once existed only in my imagination becomes meaningful to others.

The emotion I feel is often a mixture of excitement, curiosity, gratitude, and sometimes even disbelief.

Every design project begins as something invisible. It starts as a conversation, a sketch, a question, or sometimes just a small idea that exists only in my imagination. When that idea eventually becomes real and enters the world, I often experience the same sense of wonder I felt as a child.

What excites me most is not the finished object itself, but seeing how people respond to it. I enjoy observing the unexpected moments—the smile, the surprise, the laughter, the reflection, or even the conversations that emerge because of a design. Those reactions remind me that design is ultimately about people, not objects.

I remember projects such as the flying Dream Cloud, where a childhood fantasy suddenly appeared in the sky and became something people could experience together. I also remember collaborative projects involving adults with Down syndrome, where the most meaningful outcomes were not the designs themselves, but the connections and understanding that emerged through the creative process.

In many ways, realizing a design feels similar to watching a story come to life. As a designer, I may create the beginning of the story, but once the work enters the world, people complete the rest of it through their own experiences and interpretations.

Perhaps the emotion I feel most strongly is gratitude. I am grateful that an idea that once existed only in my mind can become something meaningful to others. Whenever a design sparks curiosity, creates a memory, or helps someone see the world differently, I feel that the design has truly come alive.

Many people measure success through awards, sales figures, media exposure, or commercial results. While these achievements are certainly valuable, I believe truly successful design goes much deeper.

For me, a successful design is one that creates a meaningful connection between an idea and a person.

People may forget the colors, the typography, or even the visual details of a project. However, they rarely forget how a design made them feel. If a design can inspire curiosity, create empathy, spark a conversation, or leave a lasting memory, then it has already achieved something important.

I often compare design to storytelling. A successful story is not necessarily the most complex or the most beautiful one—it is the one that stays with you long after it ends. Design works in much the same way. The most successful designs are those that continue to live in people's minds, influencing how they think, feel, or see the world.

This belief has guided many of my projects, whether they involve cultural storytelling, social participation, education, or commercial communication. The projects I value most are not always the ones that receive the most recognition, but the ones that create genuine engagement and meaningful human experiences.

I am also deeply influenced by the Bauhaus philosophy, which emphasized the integration of art, technology, and everyday life. A successful design should not exist only in galleries, competitions, or portfolios. It should become part of people's lives. It should be useful, meaningful, and relevant to the society in which it exists.

Ultimately, I believe a design becomes truly successful when people no longer see it as a design. Instead, they experience it as a story, a memory, an emotion, or a meaningful part of their lives. When that happens, design has fulfilled its greatest purpose.

The first thing I consider is not how a design looks, but why it exists.

Before evaluating aesthetics, craftsmanship, technology, or even innovation, I ask myself a simple question: Does this design have something meaningful to say?

Throughout my career, I have seen many visually impressive projects that were quickly forgotten, and many simple projects that stayed in people's minds for years. The difference is often not the execution, but the idea and intention behind the work.

As someone with a background in both advertising and design education, I am naturally drawn to storytelling. When I encounter a design, I look for the story it is trying to tell. Does it reveal something about people, culture, society, or human experience? Does it create an emotional response, spark curiosity, or encourage reflection? If it does, I am already interested.

The second aspect I consider is the relationship between the idea and its execution. A great concept can be weakened by poor execution, while beautiful execution cannot rescue a weak idea. The most successful designs achieve harmony between concept, medium, and audience. Everything feels as though it belongs together.

I am also influenced by the Bauhaus philosophy, which reminds us that design should connect art, technology, and everyday life. Therefore, I often ask whether a design serves a meaningful purpose beyond visual appearance. Does it improve an experience? Does it communicate effectively? Does it create value for people?

In today's world, where artificial intelligence can generate countless images and visual solutions within seconds, I believe originality, cultural insight, and human perspective have become even more important. Technology can help create visuals, but meaningful design still requires intention, empathy, and a point of view.

Ultimately, when judging a design, I look for something that cannot be measured by aesthetics alone: a genuine human idea. If a design helps people feel, think, connect, or see the world differently, then I consider it successful regardless of its scale, budget, or medium.

I believe designers have a responsibility that goes far beyond creating products, advertisements, or visual experiences.

Designers help shape the way people see the world. Because of this, every design decision carries cultural, social, and environmental consequences. Whether we realize it or not, designers influence what people value, how they behave, what they consume, and even how they imagine the future.

For me, one of the most important responsibilities of a designer is to create meaningful connections between people, culture, technology, and society. Design should not only respond to today's needs but also consider the long-term impact it will have on future generations.

I am particularly concerned about preserving cultural memory. As technology accelerates and societies change rapidly, many local traditions, stories, languages, and visual cultures risk being forgotten. Designers have the ability to transform these cultural assets into contemporary experiences, helping people reconnect with their heritage while keeping it relevant for the future.

At the same time, designers have a responsibility to use technology wisely. Today, artificial intelligence can generate countless images, ideas, and solutions within seconds. While this creates exciting opportunities, it also raises important questions about originality, human creativity, and cultural diversity. I believe designers should ensure that technology remains a tool that serves humanity rather than allowing humanity to become subordinate to technology.

As an educator, I often tell my students that design is not simply about making things attractive or commercially successful. It is about understanding people and recognizing the consequences of our choices. A design may influence a purchase decision for a moment, but it can also influence values, behaviors, and perspectives for years.

The Bauhaus movement taught us that art, technology, and everyday life should work together to improve society. More than a century later, I believe that principle remains relevant. Designers should help create a world that is not only more efficient and innovative, but also more humane, inclusive, sustainable, and culturally meaningful.

Ultimately, I believe our responsibility is simple: to leave the world a little better than we found it. If a design can help people understand one another more deeply, preserve something worth remembering, or inspire positive change, then it has fulfilled its responsibility to society.

I have witnessed several major transformations in the design industry throughout my career. When I first entered the field, designers were valued for their technical skills. We spent years learning how to draw, compose layouts, prepare artwork, and master specialized tools. Today, many of those technical barriers have disappeared.

With the rise of digital technologies and artificial intelligence, almost anyone can generate images, videos, illustrations, and even advertising concepts within seconds. As a result, I believe the future of design will not be defined by who can use the tools, but by who can ask the most meaningful questions.

In many ways, technology is democratizing design. What once required years of technical training can now be achieved with a simple prompt. While some people view this as a threat, I see it as an opportunity. As routine production becomes increasingly automated, designers can devote more attention to creativity, cultural understanding, strategic thinking, and human-centered problem solving.

I believe the future designer will be less of a maker and more of a curator, storyteller, strategist, and cultural interpreter. Technical execution will remain important, but originality, empathy, critical thinking, and cultural insight will become the true differentiators.

At the same time, I think the role of design will expand beyond commercial communication. Many of the most important challenges facing society today—artificial intelligence, sustainability, cultural preservation, social inclusion, and education—are fundamentally design challenges. Designers will increasingly be asked to help shape systems, experiences, and futures rather than simply create visual artifacts.

This is why I continue to be inspired by the Bauhaus philosophy. More than one hundred years ago, Bauhaus sought to unite art, technology, and everyday life. Today, we face a similar challenge. The tools have changed dramatically, but the question remains the same: how can we use technology to serve humanity?

Ultimately, I believe the future of design will be more human, not less. As artificial intelligence becomes more capable, uniquely human qualities—imagination, empathy, cultural understanding, curiosity, and storytelling—will become even more valuable. The designers who thrive in the future will not be those who compete with machines, but those who understand how to combine technology with human wisdom, creativity, and purpose.

One of the most memorable exhibitions I have curated took place at the end of 2021 in Taichung City, Taiwan. The project was titled *"Taichung So Sweet, Sweet Within"* and transformed the city itself into a large-scale public exhibition space.

At the time, the world was still recovering from the uncertainty and anxiety caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. Rather than creating a traditional Christmas celebration centered around a conventional Christmas tree, we wanted to offer citizens something warmer, more imaginative, and uniquely connected to the identity of Taichung.

Since Taichung is widely recognized as the birthplace of bubble tea, we designed a 10-meter-tall Bubble Tea Christmas Tree called *"Pearls of Happiness"* in front of the historic Taichung Railway Station. The installation combined local culture, festive symbolism, and playful storytelling to deliver a message of hope and sweetness during a difficult period.

Across the city, we created a series of immersive light installations. Along Liuchuan Canal, a 20-meter-tall water-light sculpture represented flowing wishes, hope, and renewal. Another installation, *"Sweet Dream Factory,"* transformed the riverside into a fairy-tale environment filled with light and imagination. At Green River, a giant illuminated reindeer surrounded by colorful candy-themed elements created a dreamlike landscape for families and children.

What made this project special was that the exhibition was not confined within a gallery or museum. The entire city became the exhibition venue, and every citizen became part of the audience. People encountered the installations during their daily lives, shared photographs, gathered with friends and family, and created their own memories within the spaces we designed.

Looking back, what makes me happiest is not the scale of the exhibition, but its purpose. Through light, storytelling, and playful design inspired by sweets and childhood imagination, we hoped to comfort people during a difficult time. Design cannot solve every problem, but it can offer moments of warmth, hope, and emotional connection when people need them most.

As for future exhibitions, I hope to continue creating experiences that connect culture, technology, and human emotions. Whether through public art, interactive installations, or cultural storytelling, I am most interested in projects that invite people not only to observe, but also to participate, imagine, and feel.

Inspiration can come from almost anywhere, but most often it comes from people.

Throughout my career, I have discovered that extraordinary ideas are often hidden inside ordinary things. A handwritten sign on a street corner, a phrase commonly used on social media, a childhood memory, a traditional festival, a conversation with a student, or even a small observation during daily life can become the starting point of a design project.

I have always been fascinated by culture and human behavior. Perhaps this comes from my background in traditional Chinese arts, where I studied calligraphy, seal engraving, landscape painting, flower-and-bird painting, and classical poetry. These experiences taught me to observe details, appreciate symbolism, and look for stories beneath the surface. As a result, I often find inspiration not in trends, but in the overlooked moments of everyday life.

Many of my projects originate from this curiosity. The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup emerged from a commonly used internet expression. My research on Taiwanese vernacular calligraphy began with handwritten signs that most people pass by without noticing. Even my educational and social design projects often start with simple questions about people, relationships, and culture.

I also draw inspiration from imagination and wonder. As a child, I loved imagining impossible things—floating clouds, magical worlds, and stories beyond reality. Even today, I still try to preserve that sense of curiosity. Some of my favorite projects have come from asking questions that may sound naïve at first: What if a cloud could fly through a city? What if people could physically experience the meaning of a forgotten Chinese character? What if design could help strangers better understand one another?

To feed my creativity, I intentionally expose myself to different worlds. I enjoy reading, observing cities, visiting exhibitions, studying culture, talking with students, and exploring new technologies. However, I believe creativity grows most when we remain curious about people. Technology changes rapidly, but human emotions, dreams, fears, and hopes continue to provide endless inspiration.

Ultimately, I think creativity comes from paying attention. The world is constantly telling stories. My job as a designer is simply to notice them and help others see them too.

If I had to describe my design style, I would not define it by a particular visual aesthetic. Instead, I would describe it as a form of cultural storytelling.

Throughout my career, I have been less interested in creating objects and more interested in creating experiences, conversations, and emotional connections. Whether the project takes the form of an advertising campaign, public installation, cultural exhibition, educational initiative, or social design project, my goal is often the same: to transform ideas into stories that people can actively experience.

Many of my projects are inspired by everyday culture. I am fascinated by things that people often overlook—local traditions, handwritten signs, internet language, childhood memories, social behaviors, and shared cultural experiences. I enjoy uncovering the stories hidden within these ordinary elements and reintroducing them in ways that feel surprising, playful, and meaningful.

Another characteristic of my work is participation. I rarely see audiences as passive observers. Instead, I want them to become part of the story. Whether through interaction, co-creation, public engagement, or immersive experiences, I hope people can contribute their own interpretations and memories to the work. In many ways, I design frameworks for participation rather than simply designing objects.

My approach is also strongly influenced by the Bauhaus philosophy, particularly the belief that art, technology, and everyday life should not exist separately. I enjoy combining cultural narratives with contemporary technologies, but I always ensure that technology serves the story rather than becoming the story itself.

Perhaps the most consistent characteristic of my work is a sense of wonder. I am constantly drawn to ideas that allow people to rediscover curiosity—whether through a flying cloud drifting above a city, a bubble tea Christmas tree transforming a public square, an internet phrase becoming a cultural artifact, or a forgotten Chinese character becoming an interactive experience. These projects may look very different from one another, but they all share the same intention: to help people see familiar things through new eyes.

Ultimately, I do not see design as the creation of visual forms. I see it as the creation of meaningful experiences. If there is a common thread running through my work, it is the belief that stories, culture, and human participation have the power to transform ordinary moments into memorable ones.

I live in Taiwan, a place where different cultures, histories, and influences constantly intersect. Although Taiwan is geographically small, it possesses an extraordinary cultural diversity shaped by Indigenous traditions, Chinese heritage, Japanese influence, Western ideas, and contemporary global culture. Growing up and working in this environment has had a profound impact on my design thinking.

I believe Taiwan's greatest cultural strength is its ability to absorb, reinterpret, and transform influences into something uniquely its own. This spirit can be seen everywhere—from street food and local festivals to visual culture, language, and everyday life. Many of my projects are inspired by these seemingly ordinary cultural elements. Whether exploring vernacular calligraphy, internet language, local traditions, or contemporary social behaviors, I often find inspiration in aspects of Taiwanese culture that people encounter every day but rarely stop to consider.

Living in Taiwan has also taught me to appreciate the coexistence of tradition and innovation. It is possible to find a centuries-old temple standing beside a technology company, or a traditional handwritten sign located next to a cutting-edge digital advertisement. This coexistence constantly reminds me that the future does not need to erase the past. Instead, design can create meaningful dialogue between them.

One advantage of designing in Taiwan is the richness of cultural material available for inspiration. Stories, customs, local expressions, food culture, and community life provide endless creative possibilities. Taiwanese society is also relatively open to experimentation, which allows designers to explore new ideas and unconventional approaches.

At the same time, there are challenges. Because Taiwan is a relatively small market, designers often face pressure to balance local cultural identity with international communication. We must find ways to create work that remains authentic to our cultural context while still being understandable and relevant to global audiences.

Perhaps this challenge has become one of my greatest sources of motivation. I enjoy transforming local experiences into universal stories. Whether it is a bubble tea Christmas tree, a project inspired by internet language, or research on vernacular visual culture, I hope to demonstrate that local culture can carry global significance when presented through meaningful design.

Ultimately, I believe Taiwan has taught me an important lesson: the most powerful creative ideas often emerge not from looking outward, but from rediscovering the value of what already exists around us.

I see the relationship between designers and companies as a partnership rather than a service transaction.

Throughout my career, I have worked with organizations ranging from global brands and government institutions to cultural organizations, educational institutions, and nonprofit groups. Regardless of the client's size or industry, I always begin with the same question: What is the real challenge we are trying to solve?

Many clients initially come with a communication request, a marketing objective, or a design problem. However, I have learned that the most valuable insights often emerge when we look beyond the brief itself. Sometimes the challenge is not about creating a better advertisement, but about understanding people's motivations, emotions, behaviors, or cultural context.

My approach is highly collaborative. I enjoy involving clients throughout the creative process, encouraging dialogue, exploration, and mutual learning. Rather than presenting design as a finished solution, I prefer to develop ideas together, ensuring that the final outcome reflects both strategic objectives and meaningful human experiences.

Because of my background in both industry and academia, I also bring a broader perspective to many projects. In addition to creative execution, I often help organizations think about cultural relevance, social impact, emerging technologies, audience engagement, and long-term brand value. I believe design becomes most effective when it connects business goals with genuine human needs.

One principle I consistently share with clients is that people rarely remember advertisements, campaigns, or products by themselves. What they remember are stories, emotions, and experiences. Therefore, my role is not simply to create communication materials, but to help organizations discover meaningful stories that audiences genuinely care about.

Ultimately, the most successful collaborations occur when trust exists on both sides. When companies are willing to embrace curiosity, creativity, and experimentation, design can move beyond problem-solving and become a catalyst for innovation, cultural connection, and positive change.

One of the biggest misconceptions companies have is believing that designers are hired simply to make things look better. In reality, the best designers help organizations think differently, communicate more effectively, and discover opportunities that may not have been visible before.

My first suggestion to companies is to view designers as strategic partners rather than service providers. If a company only asks a designer to execute instructions, it is utilizing only a fraction of the designer's value. Designers are trained to observe people, identify patterns, solve problems, and imagine possibilities. Organizations should invite designers into conversations early enough for them to contribute to the thinking process, not just the final execution.

When selecting a designer, I believe companies should look beyond portfolios and visual styles. A beautiful portfolio can demonstrate technical ability, but it does not necessarily reveal how a designer thinks. I would encourage companies to ask questions such as: How does this designer approach problems? How do they understand people? What kind of questions do they ask? Can they transform complexity into meaningful experiences?

I also believe the most valuable designers are curious individuals. The creative industry changes constantly—from print to television, digital media, social platforms, short-form video, and now artificial intelligence. Tools and technologies will continue to evolve, but curiosity, adaptability, and a willingness to learn remain essential qualities.

Another important factor is cultural sensitivity. Great design does not happen in isolation. It emerges from understanding people, communities, behaviors, and cultural contexts. The designers who create the most meaningful work are often those who pay close attention to the world around them.

Finally, I would encourage companies not to hire designers simply because they think similarly. Sometimes the greatest value a designer brings is a different perspective. Innovation often begins when someone asks a question that nobody else thought to ask.

In my experience, the best designer is not necessarily the one with the most awards or the most advanced tools. The best designer is the one who can understand people, uncover meaningful stories, and transform those insights into experiences that create lasting impact.

My design process rarely begins with visuals. It usually begins with curiosity.

The first step is observation. I spend a great deal of time paying attention to people, culture, behaviors, conversations, and everyday experiences. Many of my projects originate from something seemingly ordinary—a handwritten sign, an internet phrase, a local tradition, a social issue, a childhood memory, or an unexpected observation. I believe meaningful ideas are often hidden in places that people overlook.

Once I discover something interesting, I start asking questions. Why does this matter? What story is hidden behind it? Why do people connect with it? How can it be interpreted differently? At this stage, I am less concerned with design solutions and more interested in understanding the human and cultural dimensions of the idea.

The next step is storytelling. Before thinking about visuals, I try to identify the core narrative. Every successful project, whether it is an advertising campaign, a public installation, a cultural initiative, or an educational project, needs a story that people can understand, remember, and share.

Only after the story becomes clear do I begin exploring possible forms and media. One lesson I learned from working across print, television, digital media, social platforms, public spaces, and emerging technologies is that great ideas need the right stage. Sometimes a story belongs in a public square, sometimes on social media, and sometimes within an interactive experience. Finding the right medium is often as important as developing the idea itself.

I also enjoy involving people in the process whenever possible. Rather than treating audiences as passive viewers, I often look for ways to encourage participation, interaction, or co-creation. I believe people connect more deeply with ideas when they become part of the experience.

Finally, I evaluate a project by asking a simple question: What will people remember? Most people will eventually forget the details of a design, but they often remember a feeling, a story, or a moment of surprise. If a project can create that lasting memory, I consider it successful.

In many ways, my design process is less about creating objects and more about creating experiences. I begin with people, develop a story, find the right medium, invite participation, and ultimately hope to create something that remains in people's memories long after the project itself has ended.

My favorite design items at home are probably not what people would expect.

**1. A Chinese Calligraphy Brush**

Long before I became a designer, I learned calligraphy, seal engraving, and traditional Chinese painting. A calligraphy brush reminds me that every line carries intention, rhythm, and emotion. Even today, I believe creativity begins with observation and expression rather than technology.

**2. Scrap Paper**

This may sound unusual, but I love keeping scrap paper nearby. Some of my best ideas have appeared on the backs of documents, receipts, envelopes, and discarded pieces of paper. To me, creativity is not something that only happens in a studio—it can arrive anywhere and at any moment.

**3. Jazz Music**

Jazz constantly inspires me. I admire the balance between structure and improvisation. Great musicians understand the rules deeply enough to break them beautifully. I believe design works in much the same way. Creativity often emerges when discipline meets freedom.

**4. Conversations with Ordinary People**

If conversations can be considered a design resource, then they are among my favorites. I enjoy talking with street vendors, shop owners, taxi drivers, students, and people from different walks of life. Many of my projects have originated from these conversations. Extraordinary ideas are often hidden within ordinary lives.

**5. Small Alleys and Side Streets**

Although not technically an object, small alleyways are one of my greatest sources of inspiration. Whenever I walk through old neighborhoods, I discover handwritten signs, local stories, unexpected details, and traces of everyday culture. These places remind me that design does not only exist in museums or galleries—it exists in the lives of ordinary people.

Looking at this list, I realize that none of these things are luxurious or particularly fashionable. What connects them is curiosity. Together, they remind me to slow down, observe carefully, and continue finding stories in places that others might overlook.

No two days are exactly the same, which is probably one of the reasons I enjoy being a designer.

Most mornings begin quietly. I usually start the day by reading, reviewing student work, preparing lectures, or working on research projects. As both a university educator and a creative professional, I spend a great deal of time thinking about how creativity, culture, technology, and education intersect.

When I am on campus, much of my day revolves around teaching and mentoring students. I enjoy discussing ideas with them, challenging their assumptions, and encouraging them to develop their own creative voices. One of the most rewarding parts of my work is witnessing the moment when a student discovers an idea that truly belongs to them.

Outside the classroom, I continue working on advertising, cultural, and design projects. Some days involve client meetings, creative brainstorming sessions, or developing campaign strategies. Other days are spent writing, researching, or exploring new technologies and media. Because my work spans industry, education, and research, I often move between different roles throughout a single day.

However, some of my most important creative moments happen away from my desk. I enjoy walking through old neighborhoods, exploring small alleyways, visiting local markets, and observing everyday life. I often stop to look at handwritten signs, talk with shop owners, or simply watch how people interact with their environment. Many of my ideas come from these ordinary moments rather than formal meetings or presentations.

Music is also an important part of my daily routine. I often listen to jazz while working because it reminds me that creativity requires both structure and improvisation. In many ways, design feels similar. We need enough discipline to build something meaningful and enough freedom to discover something unexpected.

In the evening, I may return to research, continue developing creative projects, or spend time reflecting on ideas that emerged during the day. Sometimes I sketch, sometimes I write, and sometimes I simply observe. I have learned that creativity cannot always be forced; often it appears when we allow ourselves time to notice things.

Looking back, a typical day in my life is a balance between teaching and learning, planning and exploring, structure and imagination. Whether I am working with students, clients, communities, or cultural projects, I am ultimately doing the same thing: searching for stories worth telling.

One piece of advice I often share with young designers is this: do not spend your entire life learning tools while forgetting to learn about people.
Throughout my career, I have witnessed countless technological changes. When I started, designers were learning manual production techniques. Later, everyone rushed to learn computer graphics, websites, social media, digital marketing, short-form video, and now artificial intelligence. Every generation believes its tools are revolutionary, and perhaps they are. But the tools always change.
What remains constant is human nature.
People still fall in love. People still dream. People still experience fear, hope, loneliness, curiosity, joy, and wonder. Design exists because of people, not because of software. If you understand people, you will continue to create meaningful work no matter how technology evolves.
My second piece of advice is to remain curious. Some of my best ideas did not come from design books or design conferences. They came from conversations with strangers, handwritten signs in small alleyways, local markets, old stories, children's questions, and ordinary moments that most people overlooked. Creativity often appears where others stop paying attention.
I would also encourage young designers to develop interests beyond design itself. Read literature. Listen to music. Travel when possible. Learn about history, culture, philosophy, science, and human behavior. The most interesting designers are rarely those who only study design. They are the ones who bring knowledge and experiences from many different worlds into their work.
As artificial intelligence becomes increasingly capable, I believe originality will become even more valuable. AI can generate countless images, but it cannot live your life. It cannot experience your memories, your culture, your struggles, your relationships, or your dreams. These experiences are the true source of creativity. Never underestimate the value of your own perspective.
Finally, remember that design is not a competition to create the most beautiful object. Design is an opportunity to create meaning. If your work can help someone smile, think differently, feel understood, discover something new, or see the world from another perspective, then you have already succeeded.
The future does not belong to the designers who know the most software. It belongs to the designers who remain curious, empathetic, imaginative, and deeply human. After all, there are no boring things in the world, only boring ways of looking at them. Stay curious, stay playful, and be a designer with a good sense of humor.

One of the reasons I have remained passionate about design for so many years is that it allows me to experience lives beyond my own.

There is a profession I have always admired: acting. Actors have the opportunity to live many different lives within a single lifetime. They can become a king, a teacher, a scientist, an explorer, or an ordinary person facing extraordinary circumstances. Through each role, they gain a deeper understanding of human nature.

In many ways, I believe designers and creative professionals share a similar privilege.

Every project invites us into a different world. One day, we may be designing for children. Another day, we may be working with entrepreneurs, healthcare professionals, people with disabilities, local communities, or cultural organizations. To create meaningful work, we must first understand how these people think, what they care about, what challenges they face, and what brings them joy.

Design requires empathy. Before creating solutions, we need to step into someone else's shoes and see the world through their eyes. Through this process, I have had the opportunity to learn about countless lives, dreams, fears, hopes, and experiences that are very different from my own.

Perhaps this is one of the greatest rewards of being a designer. We are constantly learning about humanity. Every project becomes a new story, a new perspective, and a new opportunity to understand people more deeply.

Of course, design also comes with challenges. The responsibility of understanding others can sometimes feel overwhelming, and creativity often requires patience, persistence, and continuous adaptation. Yet I believe these challenges are worthwhile because they allow us to grow not only as designers, but also as human beings.

Ultimately, design has taught me that every person carries a unique story. The more stories we are willing to listen to, the more meaningful our work becomes. In that sense, being a designer feels a little like being an actor—we may not live every life ourselves, but through our work, we are fortunate enough to experience and understand many different worlds.

If I had to summarize my design philosophy into a single golden rule, it would be this:

**"People must feel something before they care about something."**

Throughout my career in advertising, design, education, and cultural projects, I have learned that information alone rarely changes people. Facts can be forgotten, technology can become outdated, and visual styles can go out of fashion. What remains are the emotions and experiences that people carry with them.

This belief influences every project I create. Before thinking about aesthetics, technology, or media platforms, I ask a simple question: What do I want people to feel?

Do I want them to smile? To become curious? To feel hopeful? To reflect on their culture? To see another person's perspective? Once that emotional connection is established, communication becomes much more meaningful.

I often tell my students that design is not about making things beautiful; it is about making things meaningful. Beautiful design may attract attention, but meaningful design creates memories. The projects that people remember are often the ones that touched them emotionally or helped them see something familiar in a new way.

This philosophy can be found throughout my work—from transforming internet language into cultural dialogue, to creating city-wide installations that comforted people during difficult times, to collaborative projects involving adults with Down syndrome. Although these projects are very different from one another, they all begin with the same intention: creating a genuine human connection.

As technology continues to evolve, I believe this principle becomes even more important. Artificial intelligence can generate endless content, but meaningful experiences still require empathy, imagination, and understanding. Design begins with people and ultimately returns to people.

So my golden rule is simple: before creating something interesting, create something meaningful. When people truly feel something, the design will naturally become memorable.

Many people assume that creativity is the most important skill for a designer. While creativity is certainly important, I believe it is actually the result of several deeper abilities.
If I had to choose one essential skill, it would be observation.
Design begins long before sketches, software, or presentations. It begins with noticing things that others overlook. A designer must learn to observe people, behaviors, emotions, environments, cultures, and everyday experiences. Many of my projects originated from simple observations—a handwritten sign on a street corner, a phrase commonly used online, a conversation with a stranger, or a social phenomenon that most people took for granted.
The second important skill is empathy. Designers create for people, not for themselves. To design meaningful experiences, we must understand how others think, feel, struggle, and dream. The ability to see the world from another person's perspective is often more valuable than technical expertise.
The third skill is storytelling. Every successful design communicates something. Whether it is a product, campaign, service, exhibition, or installation, people remember stories far more than they remember visuals. A designer must learn how to transform ideas into narratives that people can understand, experience, and share.
I also believe curiosity is essential. The world changes constantly, and designers should remain lifelong learners. Curiosity encourages us to explore new technologies, cultures, disciplines, and perspectives. It helps us discover opportunities where others see only ordinary things.
Of course, technical skills are still important. Designers should understand tools, materials, media, and emerging technologies. However, tools can always be learned. What is much harder to teach are curiosity, empathy, observation, and imagination.
In today's age of artificial intelligence, this distinction has become even more important. Software can generate images, layouts, and countless variations in seconds. What technology cannot replace is the human ability to observe deeply, understand meaning, and recognize the stories hidden within everyday life.
As the French writer Marcel Proust once wrote:
"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes."
After more than two decades in design, I still believe this is one of the most valuable lessons a designer can learn. Great ideas are often hiding in plain sight—in a small alleyway, a conversation with a stranger, a handwritten sign, a forgotten cultural practice, or an everyday moment that others pass by without noticing.
The world is full of inspiration. The challenge is not finding it, but learning how to see it.

My toolbox has changed dramatically throughout my career.

When I first entered the creative industry, it contained brushes, markers, cutting knives, layout boards, calligraphy tools, and stacks of paper. Later, computers, design software, digital cameras, websites, social media platforms, and artificial intelligence became part of my daily workflow.

Today, my toolbox contains a mixture of traditional and contemporary tools. However, some of my most important tools are not technological at all.

**A Chinese Calligraphy Brush**

This reminds me of my artistic roots. Calligraphy taught me patience, rhythm, composition, and the importance of intention behind every mark.

**Scrap Paper**

Many of my ideas still begin on the back of receipts, meeting notes, or discarded sheets of paper. Creativity rarely arrives at convenient moments.

**Jazz Music**

Jazz helps me think. I admire the balance between structure and improvisation, which is remarkably similar to the design process itself.

**Books**

My bookshelves contain everything from Bauhaus history and advertising theory to Chinese poetry, cultural studies, psychology, and storytelling. I often find that the best design inspiration comes from outside the design field.

**Conversations**

Perhaps the most valuable tool in my toolbox is conversation. I enjoy talking with students, shop owners, street vendors, entrepreneurs, and people from all walks of life. Many of my projects have originated from listening rather than designing.

Of course, I also use contemporary tools such as Adobe Creative Cloud, AI-assisted creative platforms, digital collaboration tools, and various research resources. These technologies have become valuable partners in the creative process.

However, if I am completely honest, the most important tools I own cannot be purchased or downloaded.

They are curiosity, observation, empathy, and imagination.

After all, software may help create a design, but it is people, culture, and stories that give a design meaning.

As Marcel Proust once wrote, *"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes."* My toolbox may evolve with technology, but I hope I never lose those eyes.

Design projects can indeed be very time-consuming, especially when you are simultaneously working as a designer, educator, researcher, and creative director. Over the years, I have learned that managing time is important, but managing energy is even more important.

Early in my career, I believed productivity was about working longer hours. Today, I think creativity works differently. Great ideas rarely appear because we spend more time sitting in front of a screen. They often emerge when we are observing, listening, reflecting, or experiencing the world around us.

Because my work spans multiple disciplines, no two days are exactly the same. Some days are devoted to teaching, others to client projects, research, writing, exhibitions, or creative development. Rather than trying to control every minute, I focus on identifying priorities and maintaining enough flexibility for unexpected ideas to emerge.

I also believe that creativity needs space. Many of my best ideas have appeared while walking through small alleyways, listening to jazz, talking with people, or simply observing everyday life. What may appear to be "doing nothing" is often an important part of the creative process.

Another lesson I have learned is that not every project deserves the same amount of time. Designers can spend endless hours refining details that few people will notice. Experience has taught me to focus on what truly matters—the idea, the story, and the emotional connection. A strong concept is often more valuable than endless perfection.

As technology continues to evolve, I also try to use tools wisely. Digital platforms and artificial intelligence can help reduce repetitive tasks, allowing me to spend more time on observation, strategy, storytelling, and human interaction—the aspects of design that I enjoy most.

Ultimately, my approach to time management is quite simple: stay curious, stay focused, and make room for inspiration. Design is not only about managing deadlines; it is also about creating the conditions for ideas to grow.

After all, a designer's most valuable resource is not time itself—it is the ability to notice something meaningful before everyone else does.

People often ask how long it takes to complete a design project. The practical answer might be a few days, a few weeks, or several months, depending on the scale of the work.

However, I have come to believe that meaningful design projects often take much longer than that.

The production of a design may begin when a client provides a brief, but the idea itself may have been developing for years. Many of my projects originate from observations, experiences, conversations, memories, and cultural influences that accumulate over time.

For example, a campaign might be designed within a few weeks, yet the insight behind it may come from something I noticed years earlier. A cultural project may appear to be a new creation, but it is often built upon decades of observing people, communities, traditions, and social changes.

This is one of the reasons I enjoy design so much. Creativity is not simply a process of making; it is a process of collecting. Designers spend their lives gathering stories, emotions, images, questions, and experiences. When the right project arrives, these fragments suddenly connect and become something new.

Of course, every project has practical deadlines. Some advertisements are developed within days, while large-scale public installations, exhibitions, or urban events may require many months of planning and collaboration. The timeline varies, but the principle remains the same.

If I am being completely honest, some of my favorite projects have taken twenty years to create.

Not because they required twenty years of production, but because they required twenty years of observation, curiosity, and life experience before the idea was ready to emerge.

In that sense, design never truly begins and never truly ends. Every experience becomes part of the next project, and every project becomes part of the next story.

In recent years, the question I am asked most frequently is:

**"Will artificial intelligence replace designers?"**

I hear this question from students, professionals, companies, and even people outside the creative industry. It reflects both excitement and anxiety about the rapid changes taking place in technology and design.

My answer is always the same: AI may replace certain tasks, but it will not replace human curiosity, empathy, imagination, and cultural understanding.

Throughout history, designers have continuously adapted to new technologies. During my career alone, I have witnessed the transition from manual production to digital design, from traditional advertising to social media, and now from human-generated content to AI-assisted creativity. Every technological shift created uncertainty, yet each also opened new creative possibilities.

What AI has changed is not the importance of creativity, but the nature of creative work. Technical execution is becoming easier and more accessible, which means designers must focus even more on observation, storytelling, strategy, cultural insight, and human experience.

Sometimes I tell my students that AI can generate thousands of images in a few seconds, but it cannot walk through a small alleyway and notice a handwritten sign. It cannot experience childhood memories, understand local culture, or feel empathy for another human being. These experiences remain uniquely human, and they are often where the most meaningful ideas originate.

Ironically, the rise of AI has reinforced something I have always believed: great design has never been about tools alone. It has always been about people.

So whenever someone asks me whether AI will replace designers, I usually respond with another question:

**"Can technology replace human curiosity?"**

As long as the answer is no, I believe there will always be a place for designers.

Looking back on my career, it is difficult to identify a single job experience as the most important because each stage taught me something different. However, if I had to choose one defining experience, it would be the transition from being a designer to becoming a creative leader.

Early in my career, my focus was primarily on design itself—visual execution, craftsmanship, concepts, and creative expression. Like many young designers, I was passionate about creating great work and constantly improving my technical and artistic abilities.

As I progressed into roles such as Art Director, Executive Creative Director, Chief Creative Officer, and eventually General Manager, my perspective began to change. I realized that great design is never created by a single individual. It emerges from collaboration between clients, strategists, designers, writers, technologists, producers, and many other talented people working toward a common goal.

This experience taught me that creativity is not only about generating ideas. It is also about listening, building trust, guiding teams, understanding business objectives, and helping different perspectives come together. In many ways, leadership became another form of design.

One lesson I learned during this transition is that successful projects are rarely the result of one brilliant idea. More often, they are the result of creating an environment where people feel inspired, respected, and motivated to contribute their best work.

At the same time, this experience helped me understand the broader role of design in society. Design is not simply about making things look appealing. It can influence culture, behavior, education, public spaces, and even how communities understand themselves.

Later, becoming a university educator added another dimension to this journey. Teaching allowed me to share what I had learned with younger generations while continuing to learn from them in return. Seeing students develop confidence, discover their creativity, and achieve international recognition has become one of the most rewarding aspects of my professional life.

If there is one experience that has shaped me most, it is realizing that design is ultimately about people. Whether leading a creative team, collaborating with clients, teaching students, or creating public experiences, the work always begins and ends with human connection.

Throughout my career, I have had the privilege of collaborating with organizations across government, public service, cultural, educational, and commercial sectors.

Representative clients include the Taichung City Government, the Ministry of Labor of Taiwan, and international brands such as Coca-Cola Zero. In addition, I have worked with universities, nonprofit organizations, cultural institutions, and private enterprises on projects ranging from city branding and public communication to cultural promotion, social innovation, and integrated marketing campaigns.

One of the experiences I value most was working with the Taichung City Government to create the city-wide Christmas exhibition "Taichung So Sweet, Sweet Within." Rather than designing a traditional Christmas celebration, we transformed the city itself into a storytelling space inspired by Taiwan's beloved bubble tea culture. The project demonstrated how design can extend beyond visual communication to create emotional experiences, strengthen cultural identity, and bring communities together.

Working with such diverse clients has taught me that every organization has its own language, challenges, and aspirations. Whether collaborating with a government agency, a global brand, a nonprofit foundation, or a group of students, I always begin with the same question:

"What story is worth telling?"

I believe the most successful projects are not defined by the size of the client, but by the impact they create. Regardless of the sector, my goal remains the same—to use creativity, culture, and storytelling to build meaningful connections between people and ideas.

The type of design work I enjoy most is the kind that invites people to participate in a story rather than simply observe it.

Throughout my career, I have worked in advertising, branding, cultural promotion, public installations, exhibitions, education, and social innovation. While each discipline has its own unique challenges, I am always most excited by projects that create meaningful experiences and emotional connections.

I particularly enjoy projects that transform ordinary cultural elements into something unexpected. Many of my works begin with things that people encounter every day—a local tradition, a handwritten sign, an internet expression, a childhood memory, or a familiar social behavior. Through design, these ordinary elements can become opportunities for curiosity, reflection, interaction, and discovery.

What fascinates me most is the moment when people stop being passive audiences and become active participants. Whether it is a floating cloud drifting across a city, a bubble tea Christmas tree transforming a public square, a cultural project inspired by internet language, or an exhibition that invites visitors to physically experience the meaning of Chinese characters, I enjoy creating experiences that allow people to step inside the story.

I also find great meaning in projects that create social impact. Some of my most memorable experiences have come from collaborative design initiatives involving adults with Down syndrome, where creativity became a bridge between different communities. These projects reminded me that design is not only about communication—it is also about empathy, understanding, and human connection.

Perhaps the reason I enjoy these projects so much is that they combine everything I love: culture, storytelling, participation, imagination, and people. They allow me to transform observations into experiences and ideas into memories.

Ultimately, the design work I enjoy most is not defined by a particular medium or industry. It is defined by its ability to make people feel something, see something differently, or discover something they had never noticed before. Those moments of discovery are what continue to inspire me as a designer.

As I look toward the future, I find myself becoming increasingly interested in the intersection of culture, education, technology, and human creativity.

Throughout my career, I have worked in advertising, design, cultural promotion, and higher education. Looking ahead, I hope to continue building connections between these different worlds and exploring how design can create meaningful impact beyond commercial communication.

One of my goals is to further explore cultural storytelling through design. Many of my recent projects have focused on preserving and reinterpreting elements of everyday culture—from vernacular visual language and internet expressions to forgotten Chinese characters and local traditions. I believe culture is not something that belongs only to museums; it is something that lives within people's daily experiences. I hope to continue transforming these cultural stories into contemporary and engaging design experiences.

Another important focus is education. As a university educator, I am passionate about helping young designers discover their own creative voices. In an age increasingly influenced by artificial intelligence, I believe design education must evolve beyond teaching technical skills. My goal is to cultivate designers who are curious, empathetic, culturally aware, and capable of independent creative thinking.

At the same time, I am actively exploring how emerging technologies can coexist with human creativity. Rather than asking whether AI will replace designers, I am more interested in understanding how technology can help people tell richer stories, preserve cultural memory, and create deeper human connections. I believe the future belongs not to technology alone, but to the collaboration between technology and human imagination.

I also hope to create more public and interactive experiences that invite participation rather than observation. Whether through exhibitions, installations, cultural projects, or educational initiatives, I want to continue designing experiences that encourage people to engage, reflect, and discover.

Ultimately, my future plans remain quite simple.

I want to keep learning.

I want to keep telling stories.

And I want to keep creating opportunities for people to see the world with fresh eyes.

As Marcel Proust wrote, "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes." I believe the next chapter of my journey will continue to be guided by that idea.

The answer is both.

Most ideas begin with individual observation and reflection. Many of my projects originate from personal experiences, cultural observations, conversations, or simple moments of curiosity. Sometimes an idea appears while walking through a small alleyway, listening to a story, or noticing something that others might overlook. These early moments are often deeply personal and usually happen when I am alone.

However, I have also learned that meaningful design rarely becomes successful through individual effort alone.

Throughout my career, I have worked as a designer, art director, creative director, chief creative officer, general manager, and educator. These experiences taught me that great projects are almost always the result of collaboration. Behind every successful campaign, exhibition, installation, or cultural initiative, there are writers, designers, strategists, producers, engineers, clients, students, and many others contributing their expertise.

One lesson I learned over the years is that creativity grows through conversation. An idea may start with one person, but it often becomes stronger when different perspectives challenge, refine, and expand it. Some of my most memorable projects would never have reached their full potential without the collective intelligence of a team.

This belief is also reflected in my educational work. Many of the projects I am most proud of involve collaboration between students, communities, nonprofit organizations, and people from very different backgrounds. Through these experiences, I have seen how creativity can become a shared process rather than an individual achievement.

Perhaps the best way to describe my approach is this:

Ideas may begin alone, but great design grows together.

As a creative leader, my role is not only to generate ideas but also to create an environment where others feel inspired to contribute their own. In many ways, leadership and design are surprisingly similar—both involve bringing different elements together to create something greater than the sum of its parts.

Ultimately, I believe the strongest projects combine individual imagination with collective wisdom. Creativity may start with one voice, but meaningful design is often the result of many voices working toward a common story.

Yes. One of the projects I am currently developing is an interactive cultural design exhibition centered around rare and forgotten Chinese characters.

The project explores a simple but fascinating question: What happens when people stop reading words and start experiencing them?

Many rare Chinese characters contain vivid stories about ancient lifestyles, emotions, occupations, customs, and observations of the natural world. Unfortunately, most of these characters have gradually disappeared from everyday use. While they remain preserved in dictionaries, their meanings and cultural significance are often unknown to contemporary audiences.

Instead of explaining these characters through text alone, I am designing a series of interactive installations that allow visitors to physically experience their meanings.

For example, one installation invites participants to place sensor-equipped objects near their nose to experience the meaning of a character associated with nasal congestion. Another transforms the strokes of a rare character into pieces of grilled food that visitors must correctly assemble before discovering its meaning. Through touch, movement, sound, and play, the project encourages people to learn through experience rather than memorization.

What excites me most about this project is that it combines many of the themes that have influenced my work throughout the years: culture, storytelling, participation, education, and curiosity. It also reflects my ongoing interest in transforming overlooked cultural elements into engaging contemporary experiences.

The working title of the exhibition is "How Could This Character Be?", and its core message is simple:

"Don't read the characters. Experience them."

I hope the project can help people rediscover the beauty, humor, and imagination hidden within Chinese characters while reminding us that language is not merely a tool for communication—it is also a record of human culture and creativity.

More broadly, I see this project as part of a larger exploration of how design can preserve cultural memory while making it relevant and meaningful for future generations.

People can contact me through the Department of Information Communication at Yuan Ze University, Taiwan. I am always interested in discussions related to communication design, cultural innovation, advertising creativity, AI-assisted design, and interdisciplinary collaboration. I also welcome opportunities for academic exchange, exhibitions, lectures, and international creative projects.

Email: akira@saturn.yzu.edu.tw
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/akira.chen.3
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/akira-chen-54374b35/

Perhaps there is one thing I would like to add.

Throughout this interview, we have discussed design, creativity, technology, education, culture, and storytelling. However, if there is one lesson I have learned after more than two decades in the creative industry, it is that meaningful design always begins with people.

We are currently living through a period of extraordinary technological change. Artificial intelligence can generate images, videos, music, and ideas at a speed that would have seemed impossible only a few years ago. Yet despite these advancements, I remain optimistic about the future of design.

Why?

Because people do not fall in love with technology.

People fall in love with stories.

They remember emotions.

They remember experiences.

They remember how something made them feel.

Throughout my career, I have been fortunate to work on advertising campaigns, cultural projects, city exhibitions, educational initiatives, and social design programs. Although these projects appear very different on the surface, they all share a common purpose: helping people connect—with culture, with communities, with ideas, and with one another.

If there is a mission that continues to guide my work, it is the belief that creativity should make the world a little more curious, a little more compassionate, and a little more hopeful.

I also hope future designers never lose their sense of wonder. The world is filled with stories waiting to be discovered—in small alleyways, in ordinary conversations, in forgotten traditions, and in the lives of people we pass every day.

As Marcel Proust once wrote:

*"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes."*

Perhaps that is what design has always meant to me.

Not creating something entirely new, but helping people see the world differently.

And if I could leave one final piece of advice, it would be this:

**There are no boring things in the world, only boring ways of looking at them. Stay curious, stay playful, and never lose your sense of humor.**

One of the most interesting aspects of the project lies in the word itself. In Taiwanese vernacular culture, the expression “Kaobei” is widely recognized as an emotional exclamation used to express surprise, frustration, disbelief, or humor. At the same time, the final syllable, “bei,” is a homophone of the Chinese word for cup. This linguistic coincidence provided an unexpected opportunity to transform language into an object while preserving its cultural meaning.The project also reflects a deeper observation about everyday life. Ordinary people often have to "drink" many of life's frustrations, pressures, and disappointments. By placing the expression onto a functional cup, the design transforms a familiar emotional release into a daily ritual. The act of drinking becomes a subtle metaphor for how people process and cope with life's challenges, often with humor and resilience.From a design perspective, I was also inspired by the Bauhaus principle that materials should actively contribute to function and meaning. Rather than treating ceramics merely as a decorative surface, the porcelain cup became an integral part of the communication experience. The material's durability, tactile quality, and everyday usability allowed language to be experienced physically rather than simply read visually.This unexpected combination of vernacular language, functional design, and cultural symbolism generated strong engagement both inside museums and across social media. Visitors were often surprised to encounter a phrase commonly found in everyday conversations within a museum environment. That surprise frequently evolved into laughter, discussion, and social sharing.In many ways, the project helped museums communicate in a more approachable and human manner. Instead of speaking only through formal institutional narratives, the museum could engage visitors through a language they already knew and used. The expression functioned almost like a friend breaking the ice, creating an immediate emotional connection between cultural institutions and the public.Interestingly, “Kaobei” itself often operates as a contemporary exclamation of surprise. When visitors encountered the cup, they frequently reacted with the very emotion embedded within the phrase—astonishment, amusement, and curiosity. This created a playful loop in which the language, the object, and the audience's response became inseparable parts of the experience.Ultimately, The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup demonstrates how everyday language can move beyond communication and become a living cultural medium—one that bridges digital culture, physical interaction, humor, memory, and social participation.

One of the most challenging and rewarding aspects of The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was that the project required language to be treated not simply as information, but as a material that had to coexist with a physical object.In conventional graphic design, typography is typically experienced on flat surfaces such as screens, posters, or printed media. Designers have considerable freedom in terms of scale, detail, color, and composition. However, once language is transferred onto a three-dimensional ceramic object, entirely different considerations emerge. The typography must adapt to curvature, viewing angles, tactile interaction, and the technical limitations of ceramic production.The project began with my observation of Taiwanese vernacular culture and the evolution of everyday language in the digital era. Expressions such as "Kaobei" are no longer merely words; they have become emotional signals, conversational markers, and a form of contemporary social grammar. My goal was to transform this living linguistic phenomenon into a tangible object while preserving its familiarity, humor, and communicative power.The realization of the ceramic object itself was made possible through collaboration with ceramic artist Li Ting-Yi, founder of Yeeee Pottery Studio in Taiwan. Based on my design concept, visual system, and communication framework, Li translated the two-dimensional design into a handcrafted ceramic form and oversaw the shaping, glazing, and kiln-firing processes. This collaboration brought together two distinct yet complementary disciplines: communication design and ceramic craftsmanship.Working closely with the studio deepened my understanding of how material processes influence communication. Certain visual details that appeared effective in graphic form required adjustment when translated into porcelain. Factors such as curvature, shrinkage during firing, surface texture, decal application, and viewing distance all affected how the vernacular expression would ultimately be perceived and experienced. The final outcome emerged through an ongoing dialogue between design intention and material reality.The production process involved ceramic slip casting, precision decal transfer printing, and high-temperature kiln firing. Each stage imposed constraints that directly influenced the visual development of the project. Fine typographic details could become distorted during firing, overly complex compositions risked losing clarity on curved surfaces, and the expression had to remain visually legible from multiple angles during everyday use. As a result, the visual language evolved toward stronger forms, simplified structures, and carefully balanced compositions capable of surviving both technical production requirements and repeated daily interaction.At the same time, I wanted to preserve the spontaneity and emotional authenticity of vernacular language. Everyday expressions derive much of their communicative power from their informality and immediacy. The challenge was finding a balance between precision and authenticity—creating a design system that could be reproduced consistently through ceramic production while retaining the humor, familiarity, and cultural energy embedded within the original expression.This process led me to think beyond typography as a purely visual discipline. The project became an exploration of how language behaves when it occupies physical space. Once a phrase is permanently embedded onto a porcelain surface, it is no longer experienced only through reading. It becomes something people hold, touch, photograph, share online, discuss with others, and integrate into everyday rituals.I was particularly interested in the relationship between material and meaning. Inspired by Bauhaus principles, I believe materials should actively contribute to communication rather than merely serve as passive carriers of information. In this project, porcelain was not simply a surface for language. Its durability, weight, tactile quality, and everyday functionality transformed a temporary digital expression into a lasting cultural artifact.This fusion of material craft and linguistic inquiry suggests exciting possibilities for the future of language-based product design. As contemporary communication increasingly takes place within digital environments, there is growing value in re-materializing language through physical objects. Products can become platforms for storytelling, cultural preservation, social interaction, and identity formation.Rather than viewing language as something confined to screens or printed text, designers may begin to treat language itself as a design material—one capable of shaping experiences, building communities, and carrying cultural memory across both physical and digital contexts.In this sense, The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup is not merely a ceramic product. It is an experiment in how words, materials, craftsmanship, and everyday rituals can converge to create new forms of cultural communication.

One of the central ideas behind The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup is that vernacular language deserves to be viewed as a legitimate part of contemporary culture rather than merely as informal speech.Expressions such as "Kaobei" are often categorized as slang, internet language, or casual conversation. Because of this, they are frequently overlooked within formal cultural discourse. Yet from my perspective, these everyday expressions reveal how people genuinely communicate, express emotions, build relationships, and negotiate social identity. They are living cultural artifacts that reflect the values, humor, frustrations, and creativity of a particular time and place.What fascinated me was the possibility of placing such language within a museum context. Museums have traditionally been associated with preserving history, cultural heritage, and collective memory. I wondered whether contemporary vernacular language could also be interpreted as a form of cultural heritage—one that is still evolving and actively used by society.A key factor in making this exploration possible was the support and vision of Director Eddie-Lai of the New Taipei City Pinglin Tea Museum. I am deeply grateful for his recognition of the concept and his willingness to support an unconventional project that brought everyday language into a museum environment. His openness allowed the idea to move beyond a conceptual proposal and develop into a tangible cultural product. Without that institutional trust and encouragement, the project would have been far more difficult to realize.Interestingly, the museum setting transformed the way people perceived the expression. Outside the museum, "Kaobei" might simply be regarded as an everyday exclamation. Inside the museum, however, visitors began to reflect on its linguistic origins, cultural meanings, and role in contemporary Taiwanese communication. The phrase did not lose its humor; rather, it gained an additional layer of cultural significance.I believe this is why the project succeeds in making vernacular language feel both emotionally compelling and culturally dignified. It does not attempt to sanitize or formalize the expression. Instead, it respects the expression for what it already is—a shared social language created collectively by ordinary people. The design simply provides a new context through which people can appreciate it.Humor also plays an important role. The project demonstrates that cultural engagement does not always need to be serious or academic. Laughter can be a powerful entry point into cultural reflection. Many visitors first reacted with surprise or amusement, but that initial emotional response often led to deeper conversations about language, identity, and everyday life.Ultimately, The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup suggests that culture is not only preserved in historical artifacts or official narratives. It is also embedded within the words people use every day. By bringing vernacular language into a museum retail environment, the project creates a bridge between institutional culture and lived experience, allowing visitors to recognize that their own language, memories, and social interactions are themselves valuable parts of contemporary cultural heritage.

One of the greatest challenges of the project was that vernacular language is inherently fluid, emotional, and often inconsistent. Unlike formal written language, everyday expressions evolve organically through social interaction. Their communicative power comes precisely from their spontaneity, informality, and unpredictability.If I had treated the expression purely as typography, much of its cultural vitality would have been lost. At the same time, if I had preserved every aspect of its raw and unstructured nature, it would have been difficult to establish the consistency required for series production and long-term brand development. The project therefore required a careful balance between emotional authenticity and design systemization.The process began with observation rather than design. Drawing from years of experience in advertising and communication design, I collected examples of how vernacular expressions appeared across social media conversations, online forums, digital communication platforms, public signage, and everyday speech. Rather than focusing solely on the literal meaning of each phrase, I paid close attention to the emotions, social contexts, and communicative functions associated with them.I discovered that expressions such as "Kaobei" operate less like conventional vocabulary and more like emotional signals. Depending on context, the same phrase can express surprise, frustration, disbelief, amusement, admiration, sadness, or affection. Preserving this emotional flexibility became one of the central design objectives.A particularly important design strategy involved the transformation of the Chinese character itself. Many Taiwanese vernacular expressions function as exclamations that communicate surprise, frustration, disappointment, admiration, or emotional release. I noticed that many of these expressions contain the "口" (mouth) radical, a component historically associated with speaking, vocalization, and human communication.Rather than treating the characters as static graphic elements, I reinterpreted the "口" radical as the body of the cup itself. In other words, the vessel became an extension of the character. This approach allowed the object and the language to become structurally inseparable. The cup was no longer simply carrying the word; it became part of the word's visual and symbolic construction.At the same time, each expression was developed with its own visual personality. While maintaining consistency across the series, I emphasized the distinctive emotional characteristics embedded within each character and phrase. Expressions associated with astonishment, humor, frustration, admiration, sadness, or melancholy were carefully analyzed and translated into different visual accents, compositional balances, and typographic emphases. This ensured that every cup retained the emotional tone of the original expression while remaining part of a coherent design system.Visually, I intentionally avoided highly decorative typographic treatments. Instead, I sought a visual language that felt familiar, direct, and conversational. Influenced by my background in Chinese calligraphy, vernacular visual culture, and advertising communication, I wanted the typography to retain a sense of spontaneity while remaining clear and reproducible. The final forms underwent multiple rounds of refinement to ensure that they could function effectively across different scales, surfaces, and production methods without losing their recognizable character.Another important decision was to focus on communicative essence rather than literal representation. Rather than attempting to visually imitate internet slang or digital aesthetics, I distilled the expression into a cleaner visual system capable of surviving translation into ceramic form. This approach allowed the project to maintain the emotional energy of everyday speech while achieving the precision required for decal printing, kiln firing, and repeated production.Throughout the development process, I constantly evaluated whether each design decision made the expression feel more authentic or more artificial. Whenever the design became overly polished, it risked losing the humor and immediacy that made the phrase meaningful in the first place. Conversely, whenever it became too informal, it risked losing coherence as a cultural product and communication platform. The final design emerged through continuous adjustment between these two poles.Ultimately, the success of the system came from treating vernacular language not as a problem to be corrected, but as a cultural resource to be interpreted. Rather than imposing order onto everyday speech, the design sought to reveal the structure already embedded within it.The resulting visual system preserves the raw communicative energy of vernacular culture while providing the consistency, clarity, and production precision necessary for a scalable design series. In this sense, the project demonstrates that even the most informal forms of language can become meaningful design materials when approached with respect, observation, and cultural sensitivity.More importantly, the project suggests that language itself can become a form of product architecture. By transforming linguistic structures into physical forms, communication is no longer limited to reading or speaking. It becomes something people can hold, use, share, and experience in everyday life. The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup demonstrates how typography, language, emotion, and object design can converge to create a new model of cultural communication—one that preserves the vitality of everyday speech while giving it a lasting physical presence.

The underlying philosophy behind The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup is not about a specific word, phrase, or even a single cultural expression. It is about understanding how ordinary people use language to make themselves heard.For many years, I have been fascinated by vernacular culture and the visual traces it leaves within everyday environments. One of my personal research interests involves documenting handwritten messages created by ordinary people throughout Taiwan. These are not official signs or professionally designed graphics. They are spontaneous expressions written by residents and placed outside their homes, shops, or neighborhoods.Some are warnings such as "No Parking." Others express frustration, asking people not to smoke nearby. Some politely request cooperation from neighbors, while others warmly welcome visitors. Despite their simplicity, these handwritten messages reveal something profound: they are acts of communication driven by real social needs.Over the years, I have collected more than one thousand photographs of these vernacular handwritten signs. What interests me is not only their visual form, but also what they represent. Each message reflects an individual's attempt to negotiate everyday life, express emotions, solve problems, build relationships, or establish a sense of belonging within a community.This observation became one of the foundations of The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup.From my perspective, vernacular language is one of the most democratic forms of cultural expression. It is created collectively rather than institutionally. It evolves naturally rather than being formally prescribed. Most importantly, it reflects how people actually live, communicate, and experience the world.Because the project is rooted in this broader understanding of everyday communication, it was never intended to be limited to a single Taiwanese expression. "Kaobei" is simply one example of a much larger phenomenon. The real design framework is the process of identifying culturally meaningful language, understanding its emotional and social functions, and transforming it into a tangible object that people can experience in daily life.This is why I believe the system has the potential to expand across different linguistic communities and cultural contexts. Every society possesses its own vernacular expressions, colloquialisms, local humor, emotional phrases, and forms of everyday speech. These expressions often carry cultural meanings that are difficult to translate directly, yet they play an essential role in shaping collective identity.In Japan, the system might draw upon local dialects and everyday expressions that reflect regional identity. In Europe, it could emerge from neighborhood sayings, community slogans, or colloquial phrases passed between generations. In other parts of Asia, it might evolve through internet language, contemporary slang, or hybrid forms of communication that combine local traditions with digital culture.The objective is not to export Taiwanese culture, but to provide a framework through which different cultures can rediscover and celebrate their own linguistic heritage.Ultimately, I envision The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup evolving into a broader cultural design platform—one that explores how language, memory, identity, and material culture intersect. By transforming everyday expressions into tangible experiences, the project demonstrates that language is more than a tool for communication. It is a living archive of collective experience.Whether the expression originates from Taiwan, Japan, Europe, or elsewhere, the underlying principle remains the same: ordinary language deserves to be seen, remembered, and celebrated as an important part of cultural life.

My aspiration for the next phase of The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup is to expand it from a single product series into a broader platform for cultural storytelling, linguistic preservation, and public engagement.Although the project began with a specific Taiwanese vernacular expression, I have always viewed it as part of a larger exploration into how everyday language reflects collective memory, social identity, and cultural values. The Gold A' Design Award has provided an invaluable opportunity to bring this conversation to a wider international audience, and I hope the project can continue evolving beyond its original form.One direction I am particularly interested in is expanding the series to include a wider range of vernacular expressions drawn from different regions, generations, and social communities. Language is constantly changing, and each expression captures a unique moment within cultural history. By documenting and materializing these expressions through design, the project can serve as a living archive of contemporary culture rather than a static collection of products.This vision is closely connected to my long-term research into Taiwanese vernacular handwriting and everyday communication. Over the years, I have collected more than one thousand photographs of handwritten signs created by ordinary citizens throughout Taiwan. These messages—whether they prohibit parking, request consideration from neighbors, complain about second-hand smoke, welcome visitors, or simply express personal opinions—represent authentic voices from everyday life. To me, these handwritten messages are not merely signs; they are visual records of how ordinary people communicate, negotiate social relationships, and respond to the realities of daily life. I believe there is enormous cultural value in preserving these forms of grassroots communication before they gradually disappear.Beyond vernacular expressions, this vision also extends into my broader exploration of language as cultural heritage. In parallel with The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup, I have been developing interactive design projects based on rare and forgotten Chinese characters. While vernacular expressions document how language evolves and adapts within contemporary society, rare characters preserve cultural memories, historical contexts, and alternative ways of understanding the world that risk disappearing from everyday use.Although these projects operate in different linguistic territories, they share the same underlying objective: making language visible, tangible, and experiential. One explores the living language people use today, while the other reconnects audiences with linguistic forms that have gradually faded from collective awareness. Together, they form a broader design inquiry into how communication, culture, and identity can be preserved, reactivated, and reimagined through contemporary design.Beyond Taiwan, I also hope the framework can inspire similar explorations in other linguistic and cultural communities. Every culture possesses expressions that are difficult to translate but deeply meaningful to those who use them. The future of the project may involve collaborations with museums, cultural institutions, designers, researchers, and local communities to transform these expressions into tangible experiences that celebrate cultural diversity while encouraging dialogue across cultures.At the same time, I want to ensure that The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup remains a functional communication platform rather than becoming merely a collectible object. The strength of the project lies in its ability to spark conversations. When people encounter the cup, they often smile, tell stories, share memories, take photographs, and discuss the meaning behind the expression. These interactions are just as important as the object itself.In this sense, the project exists simultaneously in physical and digital spaces. The ceramic cup serves as the material artifact, while social media, exhibitions, museum environments, and public conversations allow the cultural narrative to continue evolving. I believe this hybrid model reflects the reality of contemporary communication, where cultural experiences move fluidly between objects, communities, and digital networks.Ultimately, my goal is not simply to create more products. It is to build a sustainable cultural design system that helps people recognize the value of everyday language. If future generations can look back at these expressions and better understand how people communicated, joked, complained, connected, and expressed themselves in a particular period of history, then the project will have succeeded as both a cultural artifact and a communication platform.For me, the future of The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup is not about preserving language in a museum case. It is about keeping language alive through participation, conversation, interaction, and shared cultural experience.

If there is one lesson I hope emerging designers can learn from The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup, it is that meaningful design often begins by paying attention to things that others overlook.Many young designers believe innovation must come from entirely new technologies, complex systems, or extraordinary ideas. However, this project taught me that some of the most powerful design opportunities already exist within everyday life—in the words people speak, the expressions they share, the signs they write, and the experiences they encounter every day.The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup was built upon a simple observation: ordinary language carries extraordinary cultural meaning. By taking something familiar and often overlooked and presenting it through a new perspective, the project was able to create emotional resonance, social engagement, and cultural dialogue. This reinforced my belief that design does not always need to invent something new. Sometimes it simply needs to reveal the value of what already exists.As both a designer and educator, I have become increasingly interested in how people experience design across different forms of representation. Recently, I conducted a collaborative project in which university students co-created illustrations together with adults with Down syndrome. The creative outcomes were presented in multiple stages, including hand-drawn sketches, digital visualizations, AI-generated mockups, and finally physical ceramic cups produced from the designs.What fascinated me was the response from nearly one hundred participating students. Although they appreciated the digital renderings and AI-generated simulations, the overwhelming majority reported a significantly stronger emotional connection when they encountered the final physical cup. Holding the object, feeling its weight, seeing their design transformed into a real artifact, and sharing it with others created an experience that digital representations alone could not fully replicate.This finding reinforced something I have long believed: in an increasingly digital world, physical experiences matter more than ever.Design is not only about visual communication; it is also about creating moments of emotional connection. People remember what they can touch, use, share, and experience. The physical object becomes a bridge between imagination and reality.For designers working at the intersection of culture, language, and daily life, I believe the challenge is not simply to communicate information. It is to create experiences that people genuinely feel. Technology can help us generate ideas, visualize possibilities, and accelerate production, but meaning ultimately emerges through human experience.The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup succeeds not because it presents a clever phrase on a ceramic surface, but because it transforms language into something people can hold, use, laugh about, discuss, photograph, and remember. The design becomes part of everyday life.If I could offer one piece of advice to emerging designers, it would be this: stay close to people, stay curious about ordinary culture, and never underestimate the emotional power of tangible experiences.In a world increasingly dominated by screens and algorithms, the designs that endure may be those that help people feel something real.

One of the core principles that guides my work is what I describe as "creating the unfamiliar" and "designing for everyday emotional resonance."I have always been interested in situations where familiar things are placed into unfamiliar contexts. When people encounter something they think they already know, but experience it in an unexpected way, they pause. That moment of pause creates curiosity, reflection, and often a deeper emotional connection. For me, design begins in that moment of surprise.This philosophy played a central role in The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup. The project intentionally places a vernacular expression—informal, emotional, and often associated with everyday conversation—onto a material traditionally associated with permanence, craftsmanship, ritual, and cultural value. Rather than avoiding this contrast, I wanted to amplify it.The tension between the language and the material is precisely what gives the project its communicative power.Language is inherently transient. Expressions emerge, evolve, gain popularity, and sometimes disappear within a generation. Contemporary digital culture accelerates this process even further. New phrases spread rapidly through social media and messaging platforms, often existing only briefly before being replaced by new forms of expression.Porcelain represents the opposite condition. It is durable, tangible, and capable of surviving for decades or even centuries. Historically, ceramics have served as vessels for preserving cultural memory, artistic expression, and everyday rituals across generations.Bringing these two elements together created an intentional friction between permanence and impermanence.When visitors encounter the cup, they often experience a moment of cognitive surprise. The phrase feels contemporary, spontaneous, and conversational, while the material feels enduring and almost ceremonial. This contrast encourages people to reconsider both. The language appears more culturally significant, while the ceramic object becomes more approachable, humorous, and connected to contemporary life.At a deeper level, I believe this contrast reflects how culture itself operates. Culture is constantly changing, yet it is also continuously preserved. New expressions emerge every day, but they are built upon accumulated histories, memories, and shared experiences. The cup becomes a meeting point between these two conditions.My interest in vernacular culture is also connected to a broader design philosophy. For many years, designers were encouraged to think globally and execute globally. While international perspectives remain valuable, I increasingly believe that thinking locally and designing locally can reveal entirely different ways of understanding the world. The more deeply we engage with local language, local humor, local habits, and local experiences, the more universal the resulting human stories often become.The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup is deeply rooted in Taiwanese vernacular culture, yet audiences from different countries often recognize something familiar within it. They may not understand the exact phrase, but they understand the emotional experience of shared language, humor, frustration, surprise, and everyday communication. In this way, the local becomes a pathway to the universal.Ultimately, the experience of holding the cup is not simply visual or linguistic. It is sensory, emotional, and cultural. The weight of the porcelain, the tactile quality of the surface, and the familiarity of the expression all work together to create a layered experience. People are not merely reading a phrase; they are physically engaging with a fragment of contemporary culture.For me, that is the true value of the project. It demonstrates that everyday language, when combined with thoughtful material design, can become both a cultural artifact and a deeply human experience. Through the deliberate tension between what is temporary and what endures, the project invites people to rediscover the extraordinary meanings hidden within ordinary life.

The development of typography for The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup required a fundamentally different way of thinking compared to conventional graphic design.In two-dimensional design, typography is often experienced through visual observation alone. Whether on a screen, poster, publication, or advertisement, the designer primarily considers composition, hierarchy, readability, and visual impact within a fixed frame. The audience encounters the design through sight.A cup, however, is not viewed in the same way. It is held, rotated, touched, lifted, washed, stored, photographed, shared, and repeatedly used throughout daily life. The object is experienced through both visual perception and physical interaction. This meant that the typography could no longer function as a purely graphic element; it had to become part of the object itself.This challenge led me to reconsider the relationship between language and form. Rather than simply placing words onto the surface of a cup, I sought to create a more integrated dialogue between typography, material, and function. The visual language had to remain legible from multiple viewing angles, adapt to the curvature of the ceramic surface, and maintain its emotional character while enduring repeated use.One of the most important design decisions involved simplifying the visual structure without reducing its communicative power. Vernacular expressions derive much of their effectiveness from immediacy and familiarity. If the typography became overly decorative, the expression risked losing its conversational quality. Conversely, if it became too neutral, it would lose the humor, emotional energy, and cultural specificity that made it meaningful in the first place.The transformation of the "口"(Mouth) radical into the cup body itself became a key strategy in this process. Rather than treating typography as something applied onto the object, the design allowed the object to become part of the language. The cup and the character were conceived as a unified visual system. This approach helped preserve the communicative power of the original expression while creating a stronger relationship between language and everyday use.At the same time, each vernacular phrase was carefully analyzed for its emotional qualities. Expressions associated with surprise, frustration, humor, admiration, or melancholy were given distinct visual emphases while remaining part of a coherent family of forms. This allowed the series to retain both consistency and individual personality.The project was also strongly influenced by Bauhaus principles. More than a century later, I still believe one of the most enduring lessons of Bauhaus is that design should enter everyday life and be genuinely used by people. Good design should not remain confined to galleries, exhibitions, or theoretical discussions. It should participate in daily routines and become part of lived experience.This belief guided many of the decisions behind The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup. The goal was never simply to create an object that people would admire. It was to create an object that people would repeatedly use. Every time someone pours tea, drinks coffee, shares a photograph, or laughs at the expression printed on the cup, the design becomes active once again.In this sense, typography is no longer a static visual message. It becomes part of an ongoing relationship between object, language, and user. The meaning of the expression is continually renewed through everyday interaction.Ultimately, The Kaobei Cultural Promotion Cup demonstrates that language can extend beyond reading and become a lived experience. When typography, material, and function are fully integrated, design gains the ability not only to communicate information but also to create memory, participation, and emotional connection. For me, this is where the true power of communication design resides—not on the page or screen alone, but in the moments when design becomes part of everyday life.