Iron Fashion, Apparel and Garment Design · 2023
Crash Womenswear
- A' Design Award 2023 Iron Winner in Fashion, Apparel and Garment Design
- Awarded April 15, 2023
- Estimated Number of Design Views: 36,320
- Verification code F43D6EEA04 · Verify this award
About Crash Womenswear
The prints in the Crash Collection are all about the image destruction of all the files after a computer crash. The designer's memories and works are all turned into colored blocks: Each rectangular with a unique pattern. Meng Ling interpreted these pixmaps into the structure of the garment, projecting the 2-dimensional image onto the 3-dimensional human body. The main point of the design is the dizzying color scheme and the unreasonable placement of images. The essence of glitch is to constantly break and reorganize, and find a perfect balance.
Press Kit
- Unique Properties
- Could you live without your computer or smartphone? Once Meng Ling's computer crashed, it mercilessly devoured all her hard work. Her memories and works are all turned into colored blocks. Then she realized that the computer is her second brain, visualizing her imagination and storing her memories. Yet when the second brain died, she was desperate to explore all the past efforts left in her mind, but they all became blurred. Meng Ling was mourning for her past, ''remember'' they were supposed to be my duty, not my computer.
- Dimensions & Packaging
- Industry-standard size of S/M for women.
- Tags
- glitch art, clothing, chaotic,
- Production Technology
- After capturing thousands of images, Meng Ling redesigned the pixel images, disassembled and reassembled all the images, and printed them on silk and mesh fabrics. Since these are rectangular diagrams, the proportions of the human body have to be very carefully planned. The production process had to take into account the chromaticity and the harmony of the rectangle with the human body.
- Design Challenge
- Rectangular patterns often cause incongruent proportions in the configuration of the human body, and Meng Ling tried nearly a hundred sets of patterns in this regard. And the color is a very important part of glitch aesthetics. In addition to finding a balance point in discordant colors, it is also necessary to ensure that the printing quality cannot be distorted.
- Project Duration
- The project started in January 2020 in Beijing and finished in July 2020 in Taiwan.
- Operation Flow
- The prints in this collection are all about the image destruction of all my files after the computer crashed. Each rectangular pattern is unique. Meng Ling interprets these pixmaps into the structure of the garment, projecting the 2-dimensional image onto the 3-dimensional human body.
- Research
- The original intention of Meng Ling's work is about the glitch from the computer covers her memory. So in the beginning, she researched a series of glitch art and combined various glitch forms that her computer generated. Meng Ling thinks the main point of the view in this work is the dizzying color scheme and the unreasonable placement of images. The essence of glitch is to constantly break and reorganize, and find a perfect balance.
- Inspiration
- Designer, Meng Ling's computer was apparently not functioning anymore, and all the files were broken up into unintelligible graphics. She took screenshots of them one by one, trying to recognize the original picture from the blurry scene. There are obviously traces of my memory in each photo. So she started piecing together these enigmatic patterns like a jigsaw puzzle and putting them in prints to commemorate my old creations.
- Image Credits
- Image #1: Meng Ling Chung, Crash, 2020
Image #2: Meng Ling Chung, Crash, 2020
Image #3: Meng Ling Chung, Crash, 2020
Image #4: Meng Ling Chung, Crash, 2020
Image #5: Meng Ling Chung, Crash, 2020
Colors of Crash Womenswear
Grand Interview about Crash Womenswear
The inspiration for Crash came from a simple but unsettling question: What would happen if the digital systems we depend on suddenly disappeared? Today, we archive knowledge, communicate, and create through technology, yet many traditional skills still rely on human experience, patience, and craftsmanship. If a system were to "crash," some knowledge could be recovered, but the value of handmade techniques, passed down through generations, would be far more difficult to replace.Rather than viewing technology as the enemy, I wanted to explore the fragile relationship between innovation and human creativity. I translated digital glitches into prints and visual distortions, while balancing them with couture craftsmanship, sculptural draping, and meticulous handwork. This contrast became the heart of the collection.For me, Crash is not only about technological failure. It is a reminder that progress should not come at the cost of losing the skills, cultural memory, and human touch that give design its emotional depth. I believe the future of fashion lies in embracing innovation while continuing to preserve the craftsmanship that connects us to our history and identity.
The most challenging part was translating something completely accidental into something intentional. The prints were not digitally designed to imitate glitches—they were created from actual photographs that became corrupted after my computer crashed. Images that once contained personal memories, research, and years of creative work suddenly transformed into fragmented blocks of color and distorted patterns. It was both shocking and strangely beautiful.Instead of trying to restore the damaged files, I decided to work with them. I treated these corrupted images as the starting point of the collection, allowing the unexpected patterns to become original textile prints. The challenge was then to preserve their raw, unpredictable character while adapting them to the three-dimensional structure of a garment. Every seam, drape, and silhouette had to be carefully considered so the distortion felt like a natural part of the design rather than simply a printed surface.Looking back, the process changed my perspective. What first felt like loss gradually became a new form of creation. It reminded me that even unexpected failures can reveal possibilities that could never be planned.
Unlike a traditional fashion collection, the color palette of Crash was not intentionally planned from the beginning. It emerged naturally from actual image corruption after my computer crashed. Family photos, research images, and personal memories were transformed into unexpected blocks of color and fragmented visual patterns. Those distorted files became the foundation of the collection's textile prints.My role was not to invent the colors, but to understand them. I carefully selected and refined the corrupted images while preserving their unpredictable character. Although the combinations often appeared chaotic, I discovered that they carried their own visual rhythm and balance. Instead of correcting the "errors," I embraced them as part of the design language.Maintaining print quality across the collection required close collaboration with textile printers and multiple rounds of color testing. Because the original files contained subtle gradients, digital noise, and fragmented pixels, it was important to preserve these details without losing their clarity when printed on fabric. Every sample was carefully adjusted until the garments retained the emotional impact of the original corrupted images while remaining visually cohesive as a collection.
Creating Crash changed the way I think about memory. Before this experience, I assumed that digital files were permanent—that photographs, sketches, and years of creative work would always be there when I needed them. When my computer crashed, I realized how fragile digital memory can be. Files that I thought were safely preserved suddenly became unreadable, while others transformed into abstract images that barely resembled their original form.At the same time, I began thinking about human memory. Unlike digital storage, our memories are never perfectly preserved. Every time we remember something, we reshape it through new experiences and emotions. In that sense, the corrupted images felt strangely familiar. They no longer documented reality, but they still carried traces of it, just as our memories often do.This realization changed the way I approach creative work. Instead of seeing unexpected accidents as failures, I began to see them as another stage of transformation. Crash taught me that creation is not only about preserving the past exactly as it was, but also about discovering new meaning through change. Sometimes what appears to be lost is simply waiting to be understood in a different way.
The process began with a large archive of corrupted digital photographs rather than a predetermined print design. After my computer crashed, I carefully examined hundreds of damaged images, looking beyond the data loss to discover unexpected compositions, color relationships, and fragmented details. Instead of seeing them as broken files, I treated them as raw visual material.From there, I cropped and reorganized selected fragments into new textile prints. The challenge was not simply arranging beautiful patterns, but understanding how each fragment would interact with the human body. I considered scale, movement, and proportion throughout the design process, allowing the placement of each print to enhance the garment's silhouette rather than compete with it.I often moved fragments repeatedly, adjusting their position as the garments evolved through draping. The final composition was therefore shaped by both digital experimentation and physical garment construction. My goal was to create designs where the fragmented imagery felt naturally integrated with the body, transforming accidental digital destruction into a cohesive visual language.
Developing the patterns was one of the most challenging and rewarding parts of the project. The rectangular geometry of the prints naturally suggested flat, rigid forms, while the human body is organic, curved, and constantly in motion. My challenge was to find a balance where these two visual languages could coexist without one overpowering the other.Through repeated pattern development and countless fittings, I realized that pattern making is not simply a technical step—it is a creative language of its own. Even a small adjustment in seam placement, proportion, or volume could completely change how the rectangular motifs interacted with the body. Rather than forcing the body to fit the geometry, I gradually adapted the geometry to complement the body's movement and silhouette.This process taught me that structure and softness do not have to be opposites. By allowing rigid forms and fluid draping to work together, the garments became more dynamic and expressive. The final collection reflects this balance, where digital precision and human movement exist in dialogue rather than in conflict.
I don't hope Crash encourages people to fear technology. Instead, I hope it invites them to reflect on how deeply technology has become intertwined with our creative lives. Digital tools have transformed the way we design, communicate, and preserve our work, but they have also created an illusion that everything can be stored safely forever.My own experience reminded me that digital archives can disappear unexpectedly, while the knowledge we carry in our hands, our memories, and our craftsmanship is far more resilient. A handmade skill cannot simply be recovered by restoring a backup file.I hope Crash encourages conversations about balance rather than opposition. Technology should continue to expand creative possibilities, but it should never replace the value of human imagination, cultural knowledge, and traditional craftsmanship. Fashion has always been a dialogue between innovation and heritage, and I believe its future depends on protecting both.
Developing Crash between Beijing and Taiwan in 2020 naturally shaped the way I approached the project. The uncertainty of that period made me spend more time observing, reflecting, and working independently. As the world became increasingly dependent on digital communication, I found myself thinking more deeply about our relationship with technology—not only as a creative tool, but also as something we often take for granted.Ironically, while the world relied on digital technology more than ever, I experienced the loss of my own digital archive through a computer crash. That experience transformed the collection from a visual exploration into a personal reflection on memory, preservation, and impermanence. It made me realize how fragile digital information can be, despite our confidence in it.Working between two places also influenced my creative process. The distance encouraged me to become more resourceful and adaptable, while giving me space to reflect on the value of craftsmanship and cultural memory. Looking back, the circumstances of 2020 did not define Crash, but they amplified the questions that the collection was already asking: what do we preserve, what do we lose, and what truly endures beyond technology?
My advice is not to search for accidents, but to stay open to them. Some of the most meaningful ideas come from moments we never planned. When my computer crashed, my first reaction was frustration and disappointment. It took time before I could look at the corrupted images with curiosity instead of loss.I believe creativity often begins when we stop trying to control every outcome. Unexpected events—whether they are technological failures, material experiments, or mistakes in the studio—can reveal possibilities we would never have imagined on our own. Rather than asking how to recreate an accident, I encourage young designers to ask what they can learn from it.Innovation does not always come from inventing something completely new. Sometimes it comes from seeing familiar situations through a different perspective and having the courage to transform setbacks into opportunities for creation.
Creating Crash taught me that the most meaningful ideas often emerge from unexpected experiences. Receiving recognition through the A' Design Award has given me the confidence to continue developing concept-driven collections that combine craftsmanship with contemporary narratives.While Crash explored the relationship between technology, memory, and human creativity, my future work will expand into cultural heritage and traditional craftsmanship. I am currently developing projects inspired by Chinese ink painting, exploring how its philosophy, movement, and visual language can be translated into contemporary fashion. Rather than separating tradition from innovation, I hope to create collections that allow them to evolve together.Looking ahead, I want every collection to begin with a meaningful question. Whether the inspiration comes from technology, culture, or nature, my goal is always the same—to create work that encourages curiosity, preserves craftsmanship, and offers people a new way of seeing the world.