Design

I’m not sure if this is something common among only children. We rarely have to share things, and the idea of sharing a desk is almost unthinkable. Yet within a space just four feet by two, one can cultivate meandering essays, playful lesson plans, charming illustrations, or even an elegant tea setting. But this little corner must remain fixed, a place where we can quietly explore our ideas. It cannot be set up in the morning and dismantled at night. It is, in this sense, like growing orchids. The pot must not be moved around too often.

While we each enjoy our own little worlds, we also like to weave in moments of overlapping for fun. After moving to Kyoto, I began to awaken my underused design muscles. From time to time, I would make small items like scented bookmarks or greeting cards to give away. My first collaboration with Chef happened during a tea gathering we organized at our Japanese language school. I designed the event poster and a small booklet. Looking back now, the design was clearly immature, but I received so much support from friends. Nami, the owner of a local restaurant near our home, even displayed the poster in her shop, which moved me deeply.

Later on, with support from the school, Chef founded Cung Fung, where he shared his love for tea and other refined pursuits with students. I immediately designed a logo as a small gift to mark the occasion. Since then, I have occasionally helped with school-related design work. If cooking is one way of showing care, then perhaps my way is through Adobe. That is how I express sincerity.

Beyond the “serious” projects, we also have some personal traditions. In summer, we select tea leaves and press them into cakes to add to our collection. In winter, we design New Year greeting cards to send to friends and family. The design always reflects the zodiac animal of that year. Without realizing it, this tradition has carried us from the Year of the Tiger to the Year of the Snake. It has also inspired me to create more often, so I have begun trying my hand at pattern design. Progress has been slow, but the joy is abundant.

In the Lunar New Year of 2025, I finally gathered the courage to rent a small booth and sell printed works for the first time. I even managed to pull Chef in to help tend the stall. I am very grateful to the friends who stopped by to visit us. Because of the large minimum print quantity, I now have enough fai chun scrolls to last me for ten generations. As for the red envelopes, I am not worried. I believe they will soon find their way into good hands and shine. That too is a rare and beautiful kind of blessing.