Interview with E G Sain

I currently work for E G SAIN, a Taiwanese pastry brand founded in 1975, best known for its honey castella cake.
On one hand, we continue the craftsmanship of traditional pastry making. On the other hand, we hope to reinterpret Taiwanese culture through design. I believe food is never just food. It can also be a piece of culture, a fragment of history, and even a calling card for a country.
In recent years, I have explored innovation in the food field by treating gift boxes as curated cultural experiences. Through them, I tell stories of culture and history. My hope is that when people around the world open one of our pastry boxes, they will encounter not only Taiwanese sweets, but also culture itself, this beautiful land, and many other cultural stories worth sharing with the world.

To me, design is a form of curation.
It transforms abstract culture, emotions, and ideas into a rich experience that people can understand and feel.
Good design is not merely beautiful. It should solve problems, create value, and build an emotional connection between people and the work. It can create resonance among strangers, and it can give a brand its soul.
Therefore, I believe the essence of design is not simply to create objects, but to create better relationships between people and the world.

I most enjoy designing works that combine culture, storytelling, and commercial value.
Food packaging is one of the most creative fields for me. It is not only visual design; it also involves brand positioning, product strategy, consumer psychology, materials, craftsmanship, and user experience.
I enjoy condensing a cultural story into a gift within a limited space. When someone becomes interested in Taiwan because of a box of pastries, I feel that the design has fulfilled its mission.

If I had to choose one of my most representative works, I would choose the Taiwanese Language Gift Set, which won the A’ Design Award.
It is not simply a package with Taiwanese words printed on it. Through contemporary design, I wanted historical documents, land-based economies, maritime trade, language revitalization, and collective memory to be seen again.
To me, the most important purpose of design is not only to create something new, but to allow what is worth preserving to continue living in a new form.

My first design work was not a gift box, but food design.
I redesigned the “danhuangsu,” or salted egg yolk pastry, one of the most familiar pastries to Taiwanese consumers, with more than 100 million pieces consumed in Taiwan every year. Traditionally, the salted egg yolk is wrapped inside the pastry crust. I transformed it into a new form in which the egg yolk is exposed. I also used the “junihitoe,” the formal layered robe of Japan’s Heian period, as a metaphor for the many layers of pastry surrounding it.
Taiwanese people love eating salted egg yolk pastries during the Mid-Autumn Festival, when families gather to admire the moon. I compared the exposed egg yolk to the “Mid-Autumn moon,” so that eating the pastry becomes not only a pleasure of taste, but also like admiring the moon on the table. This work received the honor of “Taiwan Pastry of the Year” and was also patented by Taiwan’s Intellectual Property Office.
Looking back, my first design work was really an attempt to innovate Taiwanese dessert culture, and also to create new life for an old brand.

I like materials related to plants and objects made from them, such as wooden vessels, bamboo crafts, and paper. I also collect many books and am a serious book lover who buys books every week.
I am drawn to natural materials because they leave traces over time and allow a work to retain a sense of life.

Usually after work, when I return home, or right before going to sleep at night, new ideas suddenly appear.
In daily life, I read extensively, absorb new knowledge, spend time in nature, appreciate the beautiful creations of outstanding artists, travel whenever possible, and connect with people from different fields online. All of these deepen my thinking and keep me moving across disciplines.
Literature can become packaging. History can become a product. Architecture can construct an exhibition. Nature can become a source of color and composition.
Creativity does not appear out of nowhere. It comes from the meeting of different bodies of knowledge.

I usually think about four things at the same time.
First, whether it is meaningful and worth sharing.
Second, whether it has aesthetic value and is approachable.
Third, whether it is commercially viable.
Fourth, whether it has long-term value.
I believe aesthetics are important, but aesthetics are only the beginning.
Truly good design should be able to withstand the tests of culture, function, market, and time.

A rich sense of joy. The more I think, the happier I become.
But that joy still needs to be refined and disciplined. It must be transformed into an executable process. It must be made with available materials, supported by a recoverable cost structure, and eventually become something that can truly be produced. Creation is joyful, but implementation must be handled carefully, and in the end, the commercial cycle must be able to continue.
It is like putting together a large puzzle. When all the elements begin to echo one another, I know it is gradually approaching completion.
If a work can help people see culture again, or help the world understand Taiwan a little more, then I feel that all the effort is worthwhile.

When a design is truly made, and someone holds it in their hands, opens it, uses it, or even gives it to someone else, I feel deeply moved.
When a design is still on paper or on screen, it is only an idea. But when it enters people’s lives, it begins to have a life of its own.
This is especially true for food gift boxes. They are not only products. They often carry emotions between people. They become a flow of human connection, an exchange of feelings, and an expression of gratitude — a kind of gift economy.
When I know that a design can participate in these moments, I feel very grateful.
For me, a design is truly completed not when it is produced, but when it is understood, loved, and remembered.

I believe successful design must have three things: beauty, meaning, and the power to endure.
Beauty invites people to come closer. Meaning makes them want to stay. The power to endure allows the design to be used, purchased, shared, and even to move a brand forward.
If a work is only beautiful but cannot be understood or cannot truly enter the market, it is incomplete to me. Conversely, if a product sells well but has no cultural or emotional depth, I also feel that something is missing.
I hope my design can stand in the middle: accepted by the market, while still preserving cultural depth and beauty.

I first ask myself several questions.
First, does this design clearly tell the story it wants to tell?
Second, does it fit the temperament of the brand, rather than merely chasing trends?
Third, can consumers understand it and be attracted to it?
Fourth, can it actually be produced, displayed, and sold?
Design is not merely a beautiful image on a screen. It eventually enters factories, stores, distribution channels, logistics systems, and the hands of customers.
So when I evaluate a design, I consider aesthetics, culture, manufacturing, cost, distribution, and the actual context of use at the same time. This is also what makes my perspective as a business leader and design decision-maker different from that of a purely visual designer.

Designers carry great responsibility because design affects how people consume, how they understand the world, and how resources are used.
Environmentally, I do not believe design should simply create more beautiful but unnecessary things. Packaging design in particular must consider materials, size, waste, and whether it can extend the time for which a product is cherished.
Socially and culturally, designers also have a responsibility to make important things visible. Many cultures, languages, and memories may slowly disappear if they are not reinterpreted.
This is why I hope my design is not only about making products desirable, but also about helping people notice Taiwan’s languages, history, land, and human warmth again.
If design can make a product more beautiful while also preserving a culture more gently, then that is a mission I feel honored to carry.

I believe design is moving from “creating forms” toward “creating relationships” and “creating meaning.”
In the past, people often understood design as shape, visuals, or style. But in the future, design must respond to more complex questions: How is culture communicated? How does a brand build trust? How can products become more sustainable? How can objects create emotional connections between people? How can we discover cultural or social meaning? How can communities become more lasting, warmer, and more beautiful?
AI and new digital tools will lower the technical barriers of design. It will become easier and easier to generate images and concepts. But because of this, what will become truly important are human judgment, cultural understanding, and sensitivity toward the world.
The designer of the future will not simply be someone who can make images, but someone who can integrate stories, technology, business, and values.

My last exhibition was in July 2025 at Huashan 1914 Creative Park in Taiwan.
To me, every gift box that a consumer takes home is a small, mobile exhibition. It may appear on a dining table, in an office, in the home of overseas relatives or friends, or even become someone’s first entry point into understanding Taiwan.
If there is an opportunity in the future, I would love to hold an exhibition that combines pastries, language, literature, culture, and packaging design. I hope audiences can experience the layers of culture through food, words, and visuals.

My inspiration usually comes from culture and nature.
Taiwan’s languages, literature, history, folk traditions, mountains and seas, plants, seasonal rhythms, and everyday life are all important sources of inspiration for me. I also often gain new ideas from novels, museums, architecture, travel, and conversations with people from different fields.
I do not quite believe that inspiration simply falls from the sky. To me, inspiration appears one day after a long process of absorbing and accumulating.
For example, a piece of literature, a type of pastry, a packaging structure, and a seasonal festival may seem unrelated at first. But when they are placed together, they may form a new design direction. I enjoy this kind of interdisciplinary encounter.

If I had to describe my design style, I would call it “contemporary commercial design with cultural roots.”
I do not want design to be merely nostalgic, nor do I want it to pursue only the surface of internationalization. What I care about is how to transform local culture into a form that contemporary people are willing to approach and that international markets can also understand.
My works usually have storytelling and cultural qualities, and I pay attention to materials and details. But I do not want them to become too heavy. Food, after all, should feel joyful and approachable. It should make people want to take it home and share it.
My attitude toward design is this: respect tradition, but do not be limited by it; pursue beauty, but do not stop at beauty; face the market, but do not completely surrender to it.
I hope design can be a bridge — connecting the past and the present, and connecting Taiwan with the world.

I live in Taiwan.
Taiwan is a very special place. It blends different historical backgrounds, diverse cultures, and a rich natural environment. All of these deeply influence my design.
Since childhood, I have been exposed to classical works, traditional festivals, and local food culture. I also enjoy literature and art. These experiences are not materials I intentionally collected for design; they are part of daily life. So when I begin to design, they naturally become part of my work.
The greatest advantage of designing in Taiwan is that there are extremely rich cultural elements to explore. The greatest challenge is how to reinterpret them from an international perspective, so that the world is willing to understand them, rather than having only Taiwanese people know how beautiful they are.

Since I am also a business leader, my design work is almost always cross-departmental.
Good design is not only the work of the design department. It requires product development, manufacturing, purchasing, sales, marketing, and distribution channels to participate together.
I enjoy discussing ideas with people from different professions. Good ideas do not always come from designers. They may come from frontline salespeople, production team members, or even consumers.
Truly good design is the result of the whole team working together.

I believe companies should not simply ask designers to make products “look beautiful.”
A truly good collaboration allows designers to understand the real problems a brand wants to solve, and also allows designers to participate in brand strategy, rather than only being responsible for the final visual presentation.
At the same time, designers also need to understand the market, cost, production limitations, and consumer needs.
When both sides are willing to think from each other’s perspective, design is no longer just a service. It becomes a way of co-creating brand value.

My design usually does not begin with drawing. It begins with questions.
I first ask: Why does this product exist? What does it want to communicate? What kind of feeling does it hope to bring to consumers? Does it have a story worth remembering?
Then I read extensively, gather information, discuss with the team, and gradually organize the concept, visual direction, structure, materials, and product details.
To me, design is not a flash of inspiration. It is a process of constant revision and verification.

I am actually not someone who particularly collects design objects.
If I had to choose, I would choose books, product catalogs, plants, and miniature toys.
They accompany my daily life and remind me that truly good design is not necessarily the most glamorous. It is something that can stay with people for a long time.
I have always believed that life itself is the best teacher of design.

My work is very diverse.
In addition to business management, I am also involved in product development, brand strategy, design discussions, international collaboration, market research, and customer visits. Sometimes I am at the factory, sometimes in the stores, and often on the way to meetings, exhibitions, or partner visits.
Although work is busy, I still try to keep time for reading, travel, or being close to nature.
Many design ideas appear after I leave the work site.

Do not rush to establish your own style. Establish your own vision first.
Read more, travel more, observe different cultures, and understand how people truly live.
Design is not only about learning how to draw. It is about learning how to understand the world.
I would also advise young designers not to fear commerce. Commerce is not the enemy of design. If you can create value in the market while still preserving your own beliefs, that is a remarkable achievement.

The greatest advantage is being able to turn ideas into reality, and to let the world become a little different because of a work.
The greatest challenge is that design must face many limitations. The client’s attitude, budget, time, technology, cost, and market can all influence the final result.
However, I have always believed that real design is not about having no limitations. It is about finding the best answer within those limitations.

I do not have a fixed formula, but I always remind myself of one thing:
Do not design for the sake of design.
Every design decision should have a reason.
Every color, material, piece of text, and structure should support the same story, rather than compete with one another.
If a design can be understood naturally, instead of deliberately showing off technique, it often has more power.

I believe it is not drawing, but observation and thinking.
Observe people’s needs, cultural changes, social trends, and the details that others have not noticed.
Truly good design is often not about creating something entirely new, but about seeing a problem that others have not seen.

My tools are not only design software.
Books, museums, travel, literature, history, nature, and conversations with people from different fields are all part of my toolbox.
In recent years, I have also begun using AI as a partner for thinking and discussion. It helps me organize ideas, explore different directions, and improve creative efficiency.
But the final decision is still made by a human being.

I first decide what is most important, rather than what is most urgent.
Many people think design requires constant working, but I believe it is very important to preserve space for thinking.
Sometimes, a mature idea can save countless revisions later.
So I divide my time among thinking, discussion, and verification, rather than constantly producing without pause.

There is no fixed answer.
If we count the accumulation behind a work, all of my works have actually taken many years, or even decades, to form. What truly takes time is not drawing, but thinking.
I believe good design is the result of accumulated time.

Many people ask me, “Where does your inspiration come from?”
But I think what matters more than inspiration is curiosity.
If one remains curious about the world, there will always be new questions, new discoveries, and therefore new creative possibilities.
I am not too worried about having no inspiration. I am more worried about stopping my observation of the world.

I think it is taking over a brand with fifty years of history.
Fifty years is a turning point. A company can gradually take flight, or it can begin to sink. My work is to lead our company toward its hundredth year.
I am not only designing works. I am rethinking the future direction of the company.
How can we preserve tradition while innovating? How can we identify new market trends? How can we read consumers’ tastes and preferences? How can culture become part of the brand? How can design create real commercial value? How can we use design to communicate the culture and beauty we are proud of? These are questions I face every day.
Because of this, my design thinking is always connected to the real market, real people, and real land.

Our customers are very diverse.
They include consumers who walk into our stores every day, corporate clients, international partners, and travelers from different countries.

I enjoy design work with cultural connection and depth of meaning.
Not every culturally meaningful idea can become a commercially viable product; some remain concepts and cannot be fully realized. But whenever such an idea can truly be brought to life, I feel extremely excited.
I especially enjoy projects that require me to think about culture, aesthetics, business, market, and international communication at the same time.
I enjoy connecting things that seem unrelated: turning literature into food, transforming local culture into gift boxes, and making pastries into an entry point for the world to understand Taiwan.
These interdisciplinary works always fill me with passion.

I hope to continue introducing more Taiwanese culture to the world through design.
Beyond products and branding, I also hope to promote more cross-disciplinary collaborations, allowing food, literature, art, design, and the international community to exchange with one another.
I believe beautiful design should not stop at a single work. It should continue to create influence, allowing more people to understand Taiwan and come to love Taiwan through these works.

I believe in teamwork.
Every work brings together the efforts of partners from different professional fields.
I am responsible for proposing the direction, concept, and overall strategy, and then I work with designers, product developers, production teams, marketing teams, and many partners to complete the work.
I enjoy the sparks created by different disciplines interacting with one another.
Many of the best ideas are not the achievement of one person, but the result of collective creation.

I always have new projects in progress.
At the moment, I am continuing to explore how more Taiwanese cultural elements can be transformed into food and brand design with international market potential. For example, for Taiwan Travelogue, the literary work that won the International Booker Prize in 2026, we designed a new cake inspired by the novel.
I hope to continue creating more works that cross the boundaries between culture and industry, and I look forward to allowing more people to rediscover Taiwan through these designs.

People can contact us through our company’s official website or social media platforms.
I also look forward to exchanging ideas with designers, brands, and cultural workers from around the world.
I believe many good collaborations begin with a sincere conversation.

I have always believed that what design truly changes is not only the product, but the relationships between people.
If a work allows a foreign friend to begin learning about Taiwan because of a box of pastries; if a design helps young people rediscover their own culture; if a gift brings people closer to one another, then its value has already gone beyond the product itself.
I hope that one day, people will remember not only my works, but also the land behind them, and the heart that is willing to share culture.
Because I believe beautiful design can cross languages, and it can also cross borders.