Interview with Yuzhou(Joe) Wu

Yuzhou(Joe) Wu ("YW") interviewed on Saturday, 17 May.

Could you please tell us about your experience as a designer, artist, architect or creator?

YW : I didn’t enter the design field through a conventional path. My background was originally in data analytics, but through a series of hands-on experiences—from organizing independent events to designing my own retail spaces—I gradually built an interdisciplinary creative practice that now spans branding, spatial design, cultural strategy, and storytelling. Over the years, I’ve collaborated with clients from real estate, hospitality, F&B, wellness, and cultural industries, often taking on roles that go beyond design execution—shaping narrative, direction, and emotional structure. I’m currently a creative partner at AmbiWishes Technology, where I focus on projects that bridge East and West, tradition and reinvention. I believe design is not just about form or function, but about rhythm, clarity, and the emotional intelligence of space.

How did you become a designer?

YW : I became a designer almost by accident—but not without intention. I studied data analytics in university. At the time, I needed to support myself, so I began organizing student events and created all the visuals—flyers, posters, banners—just to save costs. That was my first hands-on experience with design. Later, I helped friends in film school and ended up working behind the scenes—lighting, editing, framing. I slowly realized that visual storytelling wasn’t decoration—it was structure, rhythm, emotion. I became obsessed with how space, time, and mood could be designed. What really pushed me was necessity. When I started my first business, I couldn’t afford to outsource anything. I designed the branding, interior, and experience by myself. That process shaped me. It made me realize I didn’t just want to make things—I wanted to build meaning. I became a designer not because I studied it, but because I kept doing it—until it became the way I think.

What are your priorities, technique and style when designing?

YW : The three things I focus on most are: emotional rhythm, spatial clarity, and narrative coherence. I don’t start with visuals—I start with questions. What kind of experience do we want to shape? What emotion should this space hold? What kind of silence do we allow? Often, I sketch in words before I draw anything. I write phrases, sequences, and tension points. I treat layout like composing music—timing, pause, pressure. Only after that do I move into spatial form or rendering. I don’t chase style. I chase rhythm. I want every project to have a sense of internal tempo—a psychological choreography that makes the space feel intuitive, even if it’s complex. Technology is part of my process, but not the center of it. The core always comes from judgment—what to show, what to leave unsaid.

Which emotions do you feel when designing?

YW : Designing for me is not always excitement—it’s more like a quiet tension. In the early stages, I feel a kind of weight. There’s uncertainty, discomfort, and a deep need to listen—before the project even starts to take shape. But I enjoy that. It means something real is forming. The moment that excites me most is when things start to align—when space, story, rhythm, and structure begin to lock into place. Not loudly, but clearly. That feeling of quiet clarity is more fulfilling than any rendering. Design gives me a way to turn ambiguity into structure, and emotion into rhythm. It’s not about constant joy—it’s about constructing meaning, one layer at a time.

What particular aspects of your background shaped you as a designer?

YW : My background is not in design, but that’s what shaped me most. I studied data analytics, which trained me to structure chaos—to find patterns in ambiguity. That became the foundation of how I build spatial logic today. I also worked in film production—doing lighting, editing, acting, and narrative construction. That taught me timing, rhythm, and emotional pacing, all of which directly influence my layout and design process. Entrepreneurship shaped me the most. I’ve built businesses, run events, done branding from scratch with no budget. That experience gave me real-world sensitivity—how people move, what they notice, what they avoid. It taught me to design not for perfection, but for presence. The best designers aren’t always the best drawers. They’re the ones who can sense structure, timing, emotion, and meaning—even before they pick up a pen.

What is your growth path? What are your future plans? What is your dream design project?

YW : I’m gradually shifting my role—from being the maker to becoming the mind behind. I want to focus more on creative direction, spatial strategy, and cultural planning, working across disciplines and helping younger designers grow. I enjoy designing, but I find deeper fulfillment in asking better questions, holding structure, and giving others the space to lead. One long-term dream is to create a museum—not for trophies, but for unfinished thoughts. A space that holds rhythm, atmosphere, and emotional complexity. A place where design isn’t just seen, but sensed. I hope I’ll be remembered not just for what I designed, but for what I made possible—for others, and for ideas that needed room to grow.

What are your advices to designers who are at the beginning of their career?

YW : Don’t rush to define your style. First, learn how to see—how to listen, pause, and notice what others ignore. Clarity comes before style. Rhythm comes before decoration. Also, don’t be afraid to start small. My first design job was creating a poster for an event I organized myself—because I couldn’t afford a designer. That constraint taught me how to problem-solve with presence. You don’t have to be the best at everything. You have to be consistent at what matters—structure, judgment, honesty, and the ability to build meaning over time. The best advice I’ve received? “Do less, but mean it more.” It still shapes how I design, and how I live.

You are truly successful as a designer, what do you suggest to fellow designers, artists and architects?

YW : Design is not a race to be expressive. It’s a long practice of learning what to withhold. I believe the best designers aren’t the ones who speak first—they’re the ones who listen longer. They don’t rush to solve the brief. They spend time reframing it. If I had to give one principle, it would be this: design is editing. Editing form, editing attention, editing intention. Knowing what to leave unsaid is just as powerful as knowing what to emphasize. Another idea I live by: you don’t need to be original—you need to be precise. A slightly misaligned detail can ruin a story. But a well-placed silence can say everything. As professionals, we’re not just shaping visuals. We’re shaping behavior, memory, and meaning. So sometimes, the best thing you can do—is step back.

What is your day to day look like?

YW : 09. What is your day to day look like? This question is about your daily routine. Try to explain what you do each day, professionally; how do you start your business morning? Do you read design news or go through another task? What do you like best in a boring business day; what are some little things that make you happy or excited throughout the work day?

How do you keep up with latest design trends? To what extent do design trends matter?

YW : I stay aware of design trends—but I don’t follow them. I study them. Trends are useful as cultural signals. They show us what people are longing for, reacting to, or trying to escape. But I don’t design to match a trend—I design to respond to what the trend is avoiding. What matters more to me is rhythm, context, and structure. These things don’t go out of style—they evolve. I often look at cinema, literature, architecture, and cultural theory—not to copy, but to understand how form holds feeling. So no, I don’t chase what’s “hip.” I chase what still feels true—five years from now.

How do you know if a product or project is well designed? How do you define good design?

YW : Good design doesn’t always scream. It resonates. I know a design works when it makes me pause—not because it’s loud, but because it’s right. It holds its own rhythm. It leaves space for people. It’s clear without over-explaining. For me, good design has three qualities: •Structural clarity (Does it hold together?) •Emotional rhythm (Does it breathe?) •Cultural intelligence (Does it understand where it lives?) The most common mistake? Trying to say too much. Design isn’t about showing everything. It’s about choosing what to let the space say on its own.

How do you decide if your design is ready?

YW : I don’t think a design is ever truly finished. But I do think it can feel resolved. There’s a moment—not always visible—when the elements stop competing. The structure breathes, the emotion lands, the rhythm balances. I don’t wait for perfection. I wait for alignment. Sometimes it’s a sentence that clicks. Sometimes it’s the silence between two forms. It’s not about adding—it’s about knowing when not to add anymore. Could things always be improved? Probably. But that’s not the point. Design is not a loop—it’s a decision. At some point, you have to let it go, so it can live in the world, not just in your head.

What is your biggest design work?

YW : One of the most meaningful projects I’ve worked on involved transforming a former industrial site into a workplace—using the spatial rhythm and compositional logic inspired by traditional Chinese gardens. What made it special wasn’t the size, but the structure of experience. We designed inward rather than outward—layering sequences, borrowing sightlines, dissolving hierarchy, and allowing space to feel psychologically paced rather than rigidly zoned. This was also the first time I led both concept and execution—translating abstract principles like humility, rhythm, and cultural memory into real materials, flow, and emotional atmosphere. The site had tight limitations, but that forced clarity. The result was a layered, quiet, human-centered space that gave people both function and reflection. That project reminded me: good design doesn’t shout—it holds.

Who is your favourite designer?

YW : I admire designers who don’t just build things—but who shape time, rhythm, and presence. Some of the figures I often revisit include Louis Kahn, for how he used silence and light as structural elements. And Isamu Noguchi, who taught us that a single form can hold both clarity and ambiguity at once. Their works feel less like objects, more like moments that hold stillness. If I could speak to a designer no longer with us, it would be Kahn. I’d ask him: How do you know when a wall becomes more than a wall? But more than any name, I’m drawn to a type of thinking—designers who slow things down, who know when not to finish a sentence, who let space speak before they do.

Would you tell us a bit about your lifestyle and culture?

YW : I live between cities, between languages, and often between disciplines. As a Chinese designer who studied and worked in the U.S., my work naturally blends East and West—not in style, but in structure, restraint, and rhythm. I’m drawn to cities like Kyoto, Los Angeles, and Suzhou—places where silence, pace, and density coexist in interesting tension. Design has changed the way I live. It taught me to observe without reacting, to respect tempo, and to create space not just in rooms, but in schedules, conversations, and thoughts. I believe good design isn’t a luxury—it’s a kind of quiet order. It doesn’t just decorate society. It helps society breathe.

Would you tell us more about your work culture and business philosophy?

YW : I believe in clarity, rhythm, and trust. I don’t micromanage. I ask questions. I want to see how people think, where their logic lives, and whether they can build a structure—not just a style. When I work with others—whether it’s partners, team members, or collaborators—I look for emotional intelligence, aesthetic sensitivity, and self-responsibility. I like people who don’t speak first, but who see clearly. In our studio culture, clarity is more important than speed. We don’t chase trends. We chase alignment. I don’t need everyone to think like me—but I do need everyone to respect the rhythm of a project. A good designer, in my view, doesn’t just produce. They know when to stop. When to ask. And when to say nothing—because the space is already speaking.

What are your philanthropic contributions to society as a designer, artist and architect?

YW : I believe design is not just what we create—but what we make possible for others. I try to give back by offering space: space to grow, to think, to try. Especially for younger designers who don’t come from “traditional” backgrounds—like I didn’t. I often work behind the scenes—mentoring, advising, curating teams or collaborative projects. I don’t need to be the voice in front. I’d rather help others find theirs. I also support cross-cultural design platforms that connect Chinese creatives with the global stage—not as trend exporters, but as deep storytellers. For me, giving back is not about charity. It’s about creating structures where other people’s work can thrive—quietly, sustainably, and with meaning.

What positive experiences you had when you attend the A’ Design Award?

YW : A’ Design Award gave me something rare: the space to think slowly and express clearly. As designers, we’re often moving project to project. The award process forced me to pause—to articulate not just what I made, but why I made it that way. Three things I value most from participating: 1.Clarity of Thought – Writing about my work made me see its deeper structure and contradictions. 2.Cultural Dialogue – It connected my projects with designers across countries and disciplines. 3.Long-Term Visibility – Not just exposure, but a chance to enter a slower, more meaningful conversation. Being named Designer of the Day is not just an honor—it’s a reminder to stay honest, stay curious, and stay aware of the kind of presence my work creates in the world.

Yuzhou(Joe) Wu Profile