The time was 1980s Hong Kong. At the after-school yum cha session he went with his mother, a few of his mates from the same kindergarten, and their mothers, the first thing Keith Shing-hin Chan would do - after greasy, used cups and bowls and chopsticks from the previous punters, together with the tea-stained tablecloth, were briskly hurled away, the round table now replaced with a clean tablecloth, and chipped ceramic tableware distributed in a speedy fashion - was to flip open his blank note pad, asked his friends their idea of their dream home, and began sketching unit layouts in earnest, meticulously incorporating desirable elements into floor plan after floor plan, according to his friends’ request. In hindsight, one can safely say that it was as if Chan was destined to be an interior designer.
“When I was young, family relatives made it known that their future vision of me was a civil servant just like my father, and I remember feeling extremely dreadful at that very thought: me in suit and tie, making a living with a nine-to-five job. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do when I grew up, but the one thing I was certain of was that I would not be happy with an office job,” said Chan. “Things began to pick up for me at university. Most of the students at the design faculty were weirdos of one type or another, and it was their acceptance - or even celebration - of weirdness that I finally felt I was in the right place.”
And a ‘weirdo’ he is, to many. Getting all sentimental about the timeless design of the St Mary’s Cathedral in Tokyo, and being overwhelmed with gratitude to London’s signage and roadsigns with sensible kerning and typography is not easily comprehensible for many. And, if you seek his help in redecorating or furbishing your home, you’ll be expecting an additional person in the know of the private aspects of your life, from your sleeping pattern to even illnesses. Indisputable, however, as evident in the plethora of press coverage on his interior design projects, is that projects entrusted in his hands rarely fail expectations.
The founder of Hintegro admits his journey in entrepreneurship is a humbling experience, and he believes the function of design is as much problem-solving as story-telling. “When I started as an interior designer, I envisaged myself to be one of those Porsche-driving interior designers, who earned quick bucks in the rapidly expanding market in mainland China. I would still like to own a Porsche one day, mind, though not out of vanity, but my respect for the brand,” said Chan. “It used to be my goal to create residential projects that would win awards of some sort, but now I know that residential projects don’t have to be one-of-a-kind, because I am not the inhabitant. Just this morning I had a meeting with a mixed-race couple, with Japanese heritage, currently based in Hong Kong. They have both inherited some antique furniture from their Japanese grandparents, furniture pieces that are over 100 years old. My project partner and I sat there and wondered, what would these traditional Japanese furniture pieces mean to the couple’s children, who have descended from mixed racial and cultural lineage and who go to international schools - would the furniture even mean anything to them? Our task, then, is to help the family create a home that would accommodate the diversity of cultures inherited by each of them.”
Like many Hongkongers, Chan feels disheartened by the disconcerting changes that have been taking place in the city, but the optimist thinks patience and perseverance will go a long way in making Hong Kong a happier place. “It will have to be something we start from the grassroots level. Recently, I have taken up an interior design project for a British chef, who shares my desire in preserving quintessential local culture. I was lamenting how even the locals don’t give much thought on cultural preservation anymore, and the chef consoled me by saying that maybe, in 100 years’ time, things will change. So yes, even if it is probably going to take a long time, I’m glad I’m trying to make small changes now, and hopefully they will become something big in the future, whether I’ll live to see them or not.”
What was Keith Chan like as a child?
I’ve always felt ‘different’ - different to my schoolmates. I remember wondering why people my age were constantly chasing the latest trends or felt compelled to be in the know of latest happenings. People my age then were fans of the Dragon Ball cartoon, I wasn’t, and recess time became awkward because I wouldn’t be able to contribute to conversations among my peers. The feeling of being an outsider wasn’t very comfortable back then, but now that I come to think of it, I like to think that might be why I have become part of the creative industry. Growing up, I didn’t have much self-confidence, because the way I was, the way I thought about things, didn’t get me any recognition from my peers.
Things began to pick up for me at university. Most of the students at the design faculty were weirdos of one type or another, and it was their acceptance - or even celebration - of weirdness that I finally felt I was in the right place.
When I was young, family relatives made it known that their future vision of me was a civil servant just like my father, and I remember feeling extremely dreadful at that very thought: me in suit and tie, making a living with a nine-to-five job. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do when I grew up, but the one thing I was certain of was that I would not be happy with an office job.
I’m an only son. And while I’m lucky to have an open-minded mother, with whom I can talk about all and sundry, I never really had a taste of the fun and camaraderie that siblings have, and that’s where my passion for drawing came in to fill the gap. Whatever thoughts I had in my mind, I put them on paper with my drawing pencils. Drawing, and calligraphy, were ways through which I communicated with myself; they still are, just at a lesser frequency. Back when I was still at school, I would always reserve three hours each day to write down my thoughts with the brush pen and ink pad. That was back when few would speak of mediation as a therapy, but drawing and calligraphy and Chinese ink wash painting were strangely ‘therapeutic’ for me.
Why and when did you become interested in interior design?
At around 16 or 17 years old, I had a feeling that I belonged to the design industry, though not specifically interior design. That my passion for art was nurtured even before university owes a lot to my secondary school, where options of ‘electives’ were limited to what are considered by the conventional sense ‘worthwhile’ subjects. The school policy at my secondary school stipulated that I could only pick an additional elective subject - art, in my case - if I were one of the top 10 students academically speaking. Thankfully, my art teacher at the time was quite anti-establishment and actually fought with the school principal for my right on my behalf. In the end the school policy and the principal won, but my takeaway from that incident was that if I really want something badly enough, I should persevere in my pursuit of it. I got a B for art at the Hong Kong Advanced Level Examination. I also have my then-math teacher to thank, because he was the one who introduced me to Wallpaper* and Wired magazines and lent me the magazines, he was the one who encouraged me to open my eyes to the art scene outside of Hong Kong, knowing that I intended my future to be in the art and design industry.
Why do you think it’s important to open your eyes to see the world?
I went on my first-ever backpacking trip to Tokyo when I was around 19. I went with a friend, neither of us spoke a word of Japanese. I was yet to learn about the eminent architects and interior designers in Japan; my grasp of aesthetics was very immature then. But even so, my time backpacking in Japan made me realise just how big the world is.
Anything you see or encounter in an unfamiliar city or country can be an eye-opening experience, because you’re naturally curious in a place where you’ve never been. But I think just as important is keeping your eyes and mind open in your home city or country, which is something I constantly remind my students (*Keith Chan is a part-time visiting lecturer for BA (Hons) courses in Design (Environmental and Interior at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University). Many who have grown up in Hong Kong wouldn’t even have heard of the Lai Tak Tsuen estate in Tai Hang, had it not been because of Ghost in the Shell.
To be very honest, one of the reasons I took up the responsibilities as visiting lecturer at PolyU was to promote my interior design practice, but there is a lot of joy in this job as well, personally, as I now know I could - and would - impart positive influence in my students. I remember a student asking how I managed to memorise the history and the names of the architects who built certain architectures, and I said, I didn’t memorise it, I’m just passionate about it. I also remember telling my students how moved and sentimental I became when I visited the St Mary’s Cathedral in Tokyo by Kenzo Tange; two years later, one of the students wrote me a postcard and said, “I now know what you meant about St Mary’s Cathedral.” He isn’t even religious.
What was it that touched you about St Mary’s Cathedral?
The cathedral was a restoration by Kenzo Tange that completed in 1964, with vision and thoughts given to create a cross of light within; there is a sense of ambiguity that is quintessentially Japanese. The design is timeless, and futuristic from the time it was built.
How do you create something that is timeless?
That would require depth and profundity, accumulated over time. There’s no rushing it, no crash course for it, and it has very little to do with your skills and know-how. Take my understanding of the concept ‘less is more’. I used to think of minimalism as something cool and avant-garde, but now I know the ‘more’ is about spiritual contentment. Essentially, minimalism can only be appreciated by a mind not cluttered by materialistic desires.
It’s interesting how our perspectives and priorities change as we change. Whilst I used to gladly dig very deep in my pocket for clothes, believing in the need to ‘dress the part’, just like fellow interior designers in the industry did, now I’m happy with respectable but comfortable clothes.
Why did you open your own interior design practice at the relatively young age of 26?
It was my sixth year working at the company where I first interned and later was employed as interior designer. That it was a small company of just four staff, including the owners, means I learnt really fast. By the sixth year, I felt that I had come to a flat-line state in terms of learning, that my passion started fizzling out. Going to work became such an ordeal, and so I resigned. For a while I debated between looking for a job or founding my own company. My departure somehow coincided with a residential renovation project for a friend’s family home. I did some math and realised that the amount I was paid for that project could get me going for half a year or so, and it was right there and then that I decided to start Hintegro. I ‘consulted’ my mother, knowing she would be supportive of my decision, and she said, “Of course you should give that a shot. You’re still 26 or 27 even if you fail, but if you succeed, you would have done so before you even hit 30!” Eight years on, although I won’t call it ‘success’ just yet, Hintegro is still going strong. I have my parents to thank, as, although I never borrowed a cent from them to start or run my business, they make sure I understand that I have a safety net to fall back on, should my business fails. It makes a lot of difference to know that your parents actually have your back.
Hintegro is a humbling experience. When I started, I envisaged myself to be one of those Porsche-driving interior designers, who earned quick bucks in the rapidly expanding market in mainland China. I would still like to own a Porsche one day, mind, though not out of vanity, but my respect for the brand. It used to be my goal to create residential projects that would win awards of some sort, but now I know that residential projects don’t have to be one-of-a-kind, because I am not the inhabitant.
The basic, primary function of design is to solve problems, but design can and should be more than that, and I believe a good design should be able to tell a story too, and as an interior designer, I have the responsibility to co-create the story with the inhabitants.
Just this morning I had a meeting with a mixed-race couple, with Japanese heritage, currently based in Hong Kong. They have both inherited some antique furniture from their Japanese grandparents, furniture pieces that are over 100 years old. My project partner and I sat there and wondered, what would these traditional Japanese furniture pieces mean to the couple’s children, who have descended from mixed racial and cultural lineage and who go to international schools - would the furniture even mean anything to them? Our task, then, is to help the family create a home that would accommodate the diversity of cultures inherited by each of them.
One of the things I love about residential projects is that I really get to know about my clients - anything from their illness to sleeping patterns, I would know, and it’s this closeness and trust that get me excited every time.
What does it take to be a good interior designer?
You’ll need to be observant, liberal-minded, to be able to think critically, and to think outside the box.
Your favourite aspects of Hong Kong?
Food - not just the availability of good-quality of foreign cuisines, but also Cantonese cuisine. Cantonese cuisine is among the most refined and complicated cuisines in the world, it definitely deserves more respect from the locals.
Architecture - many architectures in Hong Kong carry with them mixed cultural heritage. Tong lau, or shophouse, is a romantic, modernist, organic creation that was born to adapt to local circumstances, such as the Japanese invasion and British colonisation.
People - I consider myself very lucky to have met a great deal of good people in my life. My former boss, for instance, would send me on fully reimbursable trips. I remember booking myself into a budget hotel in Japan, thinking that would help my boss save on the budget, only to be told off by him. He told me I should be looking at Hilton or Park Hyatt instead, because we were working on luxury apartment projects back then, and staying at these hotels would give me an idea of what a luxury apartment should look like. Despite the changes Hong Kong has undergone in recent years, I have been able to meet many likeminded individuals, with whom I believe we can create something great to make Hong Kong a better place.
What are the things that you find disheartening?
When I travelled to London last year, I realised I’ve somehow got used to the downward trend Hong Kong is going, culturally speaking. I was grateful for the clear signage and road signs in London, with sensible kerning and typography - design elements that actually serve the function of aiding motorists - compared to what seems to be random selection of typography for signage and road signs in Hong Kong. My trip to London has woken me to the regrettable fact that as a designer, I have somehow allowed myself to get accustomed to thoughtless designs in Hong Kong.
How to make Hong Kong a happier place then?
It will have to be something we start from the grassroots level. Recently, I have taken up an interior design project for a British chef, who shares my desire in preserving quintessential local culture. I was lamenting how even the locals don’t give much thought on cultural preservation anymore, and the chef consoled me by saying that maybe, in 100 years’ time, things will change. So yes, even if it is probably going to take a long time, I’m glad I’m trying to make small changes now, and hopefully they will become something big in the future, whether I’ll live to see them or not.
What’s the best thing about being Keith Chan right now?
I’m no richer than before I founded Hintegro, but the creation of this company, this platform, has enabled me to see my ability in imparting positive influence, and to meet likeminded individuals, who like to work here as much as I do.
