Interviews with Hsiao-Wen Hu

My passion for making started with drawing and creating collages in my notebooks when I was young. I was originally interested in interior and architectural design, but as I explored different creative disciplines, I found that graphic design felt like the most natural fit. I’m deeply curious and stimulated by visuals, and being able to create and make things brings me a sense of joy and fulfillment that I can’t imagine finding in another profession.

I’m motivated by curiosity and the desire to turn ideas into something tangible. I enjoy the process of taking something abstract—a story, a feeling, or a problem—and giving it a visual form. I believe in the power of visualization and that layer of visual engagement can be immensely powerful and beautiful. There’s also something very satisfying about making things that people can see, interact with, and experience in the real world.

I definitely chose it, although it feels more like I gradually found my way to it. When I started design school, I didn’t really know what design was. I only knew that creating something of my own made me happy, and I wanted to get better at it!

My practice spans branding, editorial design, environmental graphics, signage, illustration, and print. I especially enjoy projects that allow me to work across different mediums and scales, where the visual identity can extend into a physical space or tangible object, and I’d love to do more projects like this. I also enjoy making prints, whether through digital processes or analog techniques.

I’d encourage young designers to stay curious and develop their own way of seeing through making and trying different things. And be okay with not knowing exactly what you’re doing—as long as you keep going, you’ll get to where you want to go!

I think a good designer can solve a problem well, while a great designer can also recognize what the problem really is. Beyond execution, it takes curiosity, empathy, and the ability to understand context. Great design often comes from seeing something from a perspective that others may not have considered.

For me, good design balances clarity with character. It should communicate effectively, but it should also feel considered and appropriate to its context. I look at the idea behind the work, how well it serves its purpose, the quality of its execution, and how all of those elements come together as one cohesive experience.

Good design can make information easier to understand, experiences more intuitive, and brands or places more meaningful. It can also shape how people feel about something before they even consciously process it. When design is done well, it often feels effortless, but that simplicity is usually the result of a lot of thoughtful work.

I’d love to create something that combines graphic design, printmaking, and physical space—perhaps a small cultural space, publication, or exhibition where I could design everything from the identity to the objects and environment. I’d love to design for brands or organizations that are intentional and appreciate details.

I’d love to create a project that is entirely my own—something somewhere between an exhibition and an immersive environment, where I could explore an idea through image-making, print, and physical materials.

Curiosity. I try not to assume that I already know the answer. I try to stay curious about the subject and be open to new methods, new ways of thinking, or processes that could best serve the project. Be open-minded!

There are many, but recently I’ve been very inspired by the work of photographers Jimmy Marble and Marta Bevacqua. I tend to look across disciplines rather than following only graphic designers, because architecture, art, photography, fashion, and even objects often influence the way I think about design.

I’m usually drawn to work that explores tension and plays with balance, composition, and contrast.

I don’t know if I would describe any one project as my greatest. I enjoy the work where I’m able to create a system that can adapt across different formats while still feeling cohesive.

Make more things and pay attention to the details. I’ve learned a lot simply by observing the world around me!

I might have been interested in psychology! I’m fascinated by the subject, but I’m not sure what profession I’d want to apply it to.

Design is a way of giving form to an idea. It sits somewhere between problem-solving and expression: you’re trying to communicate something clearly, but you’re also making choices about how that communication should feel. For me, design is ultimately about creating a meaningful connection between an idea and its audience.

My parents have always been my biggest supporters, along with the peers I’ve met throughout school and my career. Different people have challenged me in different ways, and I think that combination of encouragement and constructive criticism has been important in shaping how I work.

I think it’s been a combination of experience, curiosity, and learning from other people. Every project and every team has pushed me to think a little differently.

One of the biggest challenges has been learning to trust my own judgment. Early in my career, it’s easy to compare yourself with other designers or feel that there is a “right” way to work. Over time, I’ve learned to be more comfortable with my own perspective while still being open to criticism and new ideas.

I think designers should present both the final result and the thinking behind it. The finished work is important, but showing the context, process, and decisions helps people understand why the solution works. At the same time, the presentation itself should be clear and intentional rather than overwhelming the work.

I’m interested in continuing to expand the relationship between my graphic design practice and my personal art practice. I’d like to explore more printmaking, illustration, and physical work while continuing to work on branding and environmental design professionally.

To keep making work that feels meaningful to me while continuing to explore and experience new things!

I think people expect a broader mindset that understands and connects different contexts, along with a certain level of craft. But I also think being experienced comes with a responsibility to remain curious. I never want experience to make me stop questioning or experimenting.

Design can make information more accessible, environments easier to navigate, and important ideas easier to understand. It can also shape culture by influencing what people notice, value, and remember. I think designers have a responsibility to consider not only whether something looks good, but also how it affects the people experiencing it.

I’m currently exploring more personal work through printmaking and illustration.

The projects that give me the most satisfaction are usually the ones where I can see an idea develop across many different touchpoints. I especially enjoy my current work developing and maintaining hotel brands, which spans everything from print to signage to merchandise.

I’d like to see more appreciation for thoughtful process and diverse perspectives. There’s often a lot of pressure to produce quickly, but good design sometimes needs time to develop.

I think AI is definitely shaping the way we work. The ability to use AI to explore new ideas, expand creative territories, and find new ways of collaborating with multiple fields will be important.

It depends entirely on the project. I don’t think the goal should be to spend a certain amount of time—it should be to give the project the amount of attention it actually needs.

I start by trying to understand the context before thinking about aesthetics. What are we trying to communicate? Who are we communicating with? What already exists, and what opportunities or limitations are there? Once I understand those things, I can start looking for the right visual language.

Stay curious, I guess!

I think it goes both ways, or happens simultaneously. Design responds to culture, technology, and changing tastes, but designers also help shape those things.

Technology is a tool. It can expand what we’re able to experiment with and make certain processes much more accessible. Sometimes technology can be the idea itself—I’ve made interesting work simply by experimenting with technology.

I use the usual digital tools for graphic design, including Adobe Creative Cloud, along with tools for image-making and experimentation. I also enjoy working with more physical processes such as linocut and risograph printing.

They can completely change how a design is experienced. Color can create emotion and hierarchy, materials add a physical and tactile dimension, and ambience influences the overall feeling of a space or experience. I think these elements are especially important when design moves beyond the screen.

I’d love people to ask not only what something looks like, but why it looks that way. I’m interested in the decisions behind a design—what inspired it, what constraints shaped it, and how the final form connects back to the original idea.

I usually wonder how it came to be. What was the original problem or idea? Why were those particular materials, proportions, colors, or interactions chosen?

Absolutely. My ideal collaborator is someone who is keen and curious about design but also keeps a light heart. I think the best collaborations happen when everyone brings a different perspective but is equally invested in making the work better.

I think the teams, directors, and designers I’ve worked with have influenced me the most in different ways. Learning how they approach projects and how they think has been a valuable lesson for me.

I don’t think there’s one particular book that shaped my design practice. I tend to learn more broadly through visual culture in general.

Mostly through making and working, and constantly trying out things that I’m curious about!

I think the designers, architects, and artists from the Bauhaus! I’m so curious about the campus and the cultural environment they created.

I’m grateful for the recognition, and it encourages me to keep creating good work.

New York City is a pretty awesome place. You’re stimulated every day by all kinds of colors, food, smells, and fun events!

One thing I’ve learned is that designers can spend an incredible amount of time discussing something that most people will never consciously notice—whether a letter should move a few pixels, whether a color is slightly too warm, or whether a line break feels right. Sometimes it feels like we’re in our own bubbles!

A good design day is one where I discover something I didn’t expect. It could be a visual reference, a new way of approaching a problem, or simply a moment when an idea finally clicks. I don’t always rely on motivation; sometimes I just start making things and let the process create the momentum.

I don’t know!

A thousand years is almost impossible to imagine. I suspect technology will transform our lives in ways that are difficult for us to predict. I do hope we solve global warming by then, and that Earth becomes healthy and stays habitable...!

I’m still very much in the process of discovering what my practice can become. I work professionally in graphic design, but I also enjoy exploring other visual forms on the side. I hope my work continues to reflect that sense of curiosity, playfulness, and attention to the everyday.

Yes! I've always been artistic. My passion started with drawing and making collages in my notebooks when I was young. I was originally interested in interior and architectural design, but as I explored different creative disciplines, graphic design felt like the most natural fit. Being able to create and make things brings me a sense of joy and fulfillment that I couldn't imagine finding in another profession.

I currently work on the Studio team at Trailborn Hotels & Resorts. We create brand identities and design signage, printed materials, merchandise, and environmental graphics for our hotels and restaurants, each tailored to its unique location and surroundings. We also develop campaigns and seasonal creative for the brand, so every project feels different and exciting.

Design is where science and art meet. It is about solving problems with creativity while creating something meaningful and beautiful.

I especially enjoy designing printed work—books, posters, postcards, packaging, and other physical objects.

One of my favorite projects is Craft as Time Capsule, my graduate thesis book that explores the relationship between traditional craftsmanship and digital technology. It combined editorial design, typography, and storytelling in a way that reflected both the concept and the making process. It remains one of the projects that feels the most personal to me.

I believe it was a business card. I was interning with an established artist, and she asked me to refresh the design.

Print will always be my favorite medium. I love paper, inks, textures, and the tactile experience that printed work creates. There is something special about holding a well-crafted object in your hands.

Usually when I encounter beautiful and inspiring work from others. Visiting exhibitions, bookstores, or simply walking around the city often sparks new ideas.

I focus most on the concept and the execution. Depending on the project, one may require more attention than the other, but I believe both are equally important to creating meaningful work.

Curiosity and excitement. I enjoy exploring possibilities and discovering unexpected solutions throughout the creative process.

Joy, pride, and fulfillment. Seeing an idea come to life is always incredibly rewarding.

A successful design clearly communicates its purpose while creating a memorable experience. It should be both functional and emotionally engaging.

I first look at how effectively it communicates its intentions. Unless ambiguity serves a clear purpose, a design should guide people toward understanding rather than leave them guessing.

Designers have the responsibility to communicate thoughtfully and create with intention. We should be mindful of the messages we put into the world and consider sustainable approaches whenever possible.

Design is becoming increasingly interdisciplinary, blending technology, storytelling, and human experience. As AI becomes more common, I think designers will place even greater value on originality, craftsmanship, and human perspective.

My last exhibition was in June 2025 in Brooklyn, New York. It was a collaborative exhibition with close friends and remains one of my favorite creative experiences. I don't have plans for my next exhibition yet, but I hope to organize another one within the next year or two.

Much of my inspiration comes from everyday life—the city, quiet observations, ordinary moments, and the slower rhythms of daily living.

I would describe my style as clean, sophisticated, and illustrative. I enjoy balancing simplicity with expressive details and often play with contrast, texture, and composition.

I currently live in New York City, but I grew up in Taiwan. Experiencing both cultures has given me different perspectives on design. Taiwan taught me to appreciate subtlety, craftsmanship, and attention to detail, while New York has encouraged experimentation, diversity, and bold ideas. I feel fortunate to constantly learn from both cultures and bring those influences together in my work.

I enjoy working collaboratively. I begin by understanding the client's goals, audience, and challenges, then explore different creative directions before refining the strongest solution together.

Choose a designer whose thinking aligns with your goals, not just whose portfolio looks appealing. The best collaborations happen when there is open communication and mutual respect throughout the process.

I always begin by understanding the project's goals, context, and audience. From there, I explore a wide range of possibilities through research and iteration, and consider different perspectives before delivering the final design.

A blanket I found at a night market in Taiwan, a mug I bought while traveling in London, the desk and cabinet I picked for my study nook, and a delicate table lamp that a friend gave me.

On weekdays, I spend most of my day designing at work. In my spare time, I enjoy making prints, drawing, crafting, and taking walks in the city!

Stay curious and keep making things. Don't be afraid to experiment or make mistakes—they're an important part of learning. Most importantly, develop your own perspective rather than chasing trends.

One of the greatest rewards is being able to create something meaningful that people can experience and enjoy. The biggest challenge is balancing creativity with deadlines, budgets, and practical constraints.

I don't really have a single golden rule, every project is different.

I think curiosity, communication, problem-solving, and attention to detail.

I mainly use Adobe Creative Suite and Figma.

I try not to become too attached to perfection early on. Keeping an open mind allows me to move forward, iterate quickly, and refine the work as it develops.

It really depends on the project. Some can be completed within a few hours, while others take several months from concept to production.

People often ask where I find inspiration - it really just comes from paying attention to everyday life and staying curious.

I think my first full-time role as a designer at TED Conferences was one of the most important experiences in my career. It taught me how to approach large-scale design systems, collaborate across teams, and bring ideas to life through production.

I've worked at TED Conferences and have collaborated on projects for Prada, Miu Miu, and other established brands and cultural institutions while working at the design studio 2x4.

I enjoy designing printed and physical objects the most!

I'd like to continue producing my own print work while further developing my artistic practice and identity alongside my design career.

Most of my professional work is highly collaborative, and I really enjoy working as part of a team. My personal artwork, however, is usually created independently.

I'm currently working on several projects that are still in development, so I can't share too much yet, but I'm excited for them to be realized.

Email: huhw93@gmail.com. Website: nancyhuhw.com (currently under construction.)

Thank you for the thoughtful questions. It was a pleasure reflecting on my work and creative journey.

The process of producing the book itself embodies the translation between physical and digital realms. The structure and layout are guided by a grid system, which is fundamental to both digital interfaces and traditional print design. Throughout the book, the grid is subtly revealed through pin lines that expose the underlying structure, while the analogue qualities are expressed through scanned imagery, handwritten script, and the tactile materiality of the paper.That said, I intentionally avoided emphasizing either the physical or the digital as the dominant perspective. The focus of the project is not the contrast between the two, but rather how artifacts—regardless of their medium—become living records of time, culture, and human activity. I wanted the design to remain neutral enough to reflect that ongoing process of preservation rather than favor one methodology over another.

The typographic combination reflects the evolution of communication technologies. Historically, each typeface emerged in response to changing functional needs and improvements in printing and reproduction. Over time, however, these typefaces also accumulated cultural associations that extend beyond their original purposes.I wanted to embrace both aspects. The typography serves as a subtle timeline of technological development while also acknowledging the meanings we have collectively attached to different visual languages. In that sense, typography itself becomes a preserved artifact—carrying both practical and cultural information—which aligns closely with the book's broader exploration of preservation.

The pandemic fundamentally changed how we interacted with both physical and digital environments. As much of our daily lives shifted online, we began relying on digital spaces not only for communication but also for connection, memory, and community. It made me think more deeply about how digital interactions themselves could become meaningful artifacts worth preserving.At the same time, the physical objects that emerged during that period naturally became historical records of an unprecedented moment. Face masks, "6 feet apart" signage, vaccination cards, and other everyday objects all became tangible evidence of a shared global experience.The pandemic highlighted both the limitations of physical spaces and the adaptability of digital platforms. More importantly, it revealed that preservation no longer belongs exclusively to either realm. That realization ultimately led me to document the research through both print and digital formats, allowing each medium to contribute something unique to the narrative.

One of the most interesting discoveries during my research was how many of the structural principles of digital interfaces can be traced back to traditional printing methods. In letterpress printing, compositions are built from individual pieces of movable type, spacing blocks, and a rigid grid that organizes every element on the page. Similarly, digital interfaces are constructed from pixels, grids, modules, and coded systems that determine how information is displayed.Although the technologies are vastly different, they share a common logic: both rely on small, repeatable units that collectively form a larger visual system. The pixel, in many ways, resembles the modular nature of letterpress type and spacing blocks.By adopting a structured grid and disciplined layout, I wanted the book to reveal this historical continuity. Rather than presenting print and digital media as opposing forces, the design suggests that contemporary interface design has inherited many of its foundational principles from traditional printing. The grid becomes a visual language that connects centuries of technological development and reinforces the idea that innovation often evolves from existing systems rather than replacing them.

The website offered opportunities for a much more dynamic form of storytelling. Unlike a printed book, where the reading sequence is largely predetermined, a website allows readers to navigate through hyperlinks, creating multiple pathways through the content. It also supports additional media such as video, audio, and animation, allowing different forms of information to coexist. Because of this flexibility, every design decision becomes more intentional, as the narrative is no longer controlled by a single linear sequence.One challenge I found particularly interesting was how chapters function differently across the two formats. In a book, chapters naturally create rhythm and moments of pause. They help readers understand the structure of the content. On the web, however, the continuous vertical scroll creates a fundamentally different reading experience. Introducing clearly defined chapters felt overly editorial and interrupted the natural flow of the interface. Instead, the content benefited from transitioning more fluidly between topics, allowing hierarchy and pacing to emerge through layout and interaction rather than formal chapter divisions.

I wanted the publication to feel accessible—as if it could exist alongside manuals, research papers, or personal records that naturally accumulate over time. This reinforces the project's central idea that preservation is often embedded in everyday practices rather than confined to museums or institutions.

My research began by questioning what craftsmanship means today. Because digital technology is now integrated into nearly every aspect of our lives, the traditional definition of craft is no longer sufficient. Establishing a contemporary understanding of craftsmanship became the foundation for the entire project.From there, I focused on the information embedded within crafted projects and processes. Rather than looking only at the finished artifact, I examined what kinds of data were being preserved, how they were preserved, and what they revealed about the people, technologies, and societies that produced them.Approaching the research through these questions allowed me to view craft as more than a method of making. It became a framework for understanding broader cultural shifts—how technologies evolve, how behaviors change, and how values are reflected through materials and processes. By studying the relationships between artifacts, mediums, and their social contexts, I was able to capture patterns of engagement that extend far beyond the projects themselves.

Those material choices were intended to reinforce the book's argument through the physical reading experience. Newsprint has a unique place in the history of mass communication and documentation. It is inexpensive, widely distributed, and inherently ephemeral. Yet despite its impermanence, newspapers have historically served as some of our most important cultural archives.Debossing, on the other hand, introduces a different notion of preservation. Rather than adding ink to the surface, it permanently reshapes the paper itself. The information becomes embedded within the material through physical pressure, leaving a tactile impression that can be felt as much as seen.Together, these material decisions would have echoed the book's broader exploration of preservation across physical and digital contexts. Just as digital information is encoded through invisible systems of data, analogue materials preserve information through texture, wear, and physical transformation. Although they operate differently, both methods leave traces of human activity over time. I wanted readers to experience preservation not only intellectually through the content but also physically through the materials themselves.

The three-part structure follows the evolution of craftsmanship itself. It begins with a more traditional understanding of craft rooted in physical making, then explores how that definition has expanded alongside digital technologies, and finally examines how contemporary artifacts are documented, stored, and preserved.I wanted the progression to feel natural, allowing readers to gradually build an understanding of the topic rather than presenting physical and digital preservation as separate discussions. By the end of the book, the relationship between the two becomes less about contrast and more about continuity—showing how preservation has continually evolved alongside technological change.

One of the strongest insights from the project is that making has become increasingly cross-disciplinary. Digital technologies and analogue techniques no longer exist independently—they constantly inform, translate, and reshape one another.What fascinated me most was that this process of translation is itself a valuable form of documentation. The sequence of making, the choice of materials, the technologies involved, and the way information is transformed between mediums all reveal something about the cultural and technological context in which they were created.Moving forward, I believe craft documentation will become increasingly multi-layered. Rather than relying on a single artifact or medium, preservation will involve interconnected physical objects, digital records, processes, and interactions. Together, these layers provide a richer and more complete understanding of not only what was made, but also why it was made and what it reveals about the society that produced it.