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I’ve been voraciously hungry these two weeks, hence the title (in Cantonese we say 開飯, or “open rice,” where one would “bon appetit”).
It’s likely hormonal, and stoked by the slight dip in temperatures, but even after a satisfying meal I’ve found myself mentally hopping to the next bookmarked recipe or restaurant or thing to do/see/consume—the hunger isn’t just for food; it’s for the activity, beauty, but also the sedentariness and festivity fall announces.
There’s the mildly daunting hum of a fast-filling iCal (fashion week ahoy), which I am choosing to lean into after a lazy summer, and the promise of turtlenecks and other winter garb (I have become newly acquainted with a pair of knee-high boots…). I can’t wait to be cocooned in knitwear from my larynx to my toes, and to make my favourite warming recipes: heavily spiced chai; oxtail stew; big batches of fish sauce-spiked bolognese. Ivan, who loves cooking with cream and butter, is already making low-and-slow sauces again—not a minute wasted.
In this spirit, this week I come bearing a bounty of delicious things for your eyes, ears, and wallets.
Q&A: Mo Tong
London and Lausanne-based Mo Tong’s playful and incredibly clever furniture designs came up as a suggested post this week, and I’m so glad. I almost immediately messaged her in the hopes of sharing some photos with you, but thought it was as good an opportunity as any to reintroduce Q&As to Floss. We met in person for a coffee a few days ago, and she is as lovely in person as her written answers are thoughtful and wise.

The last time I did a Q&A here was with Cehryl, very early on, but demurred from making this a regular format as so many newsletters already do it so well. But I figured that as they’re not a weekly thing, I can be very intentional about who I choose to ask, and if any of you are/get bored of me, there will occasionally be someone else’s voice to serve as a palette cleanser.
Can you tell us about yourself, and what you do?
I’m a designer and maker with a background in architecture. I do feel lucky to have found a medium that I am comfortable—and excited to express myself—with. And the more I think about design as a practice, it is really just a small part of the practice of life. So much of it is about finding out who you are, where you stand, what your values are, and how to express emotions and be compassionate about other living beings as well as objects that do not have a voice for themselves. There cannot be genuine good work without figuring out how to live in a meaningful and fulfilling way. And the more time I spent away from home, the more I become attracted to and aware of my Chinese background, and how it is not only affecting the choice of materials and typologies, but also my approach to progressing a project—to accept the displacements of my position and try to communicate with the tools I have.



How did you find your way to this line of work?
I first started working in architectural studios, and soon realised that the scale of architecture means the timespan of each project is quite long, and the amount of constraints are also [not as] fun. It’s a fascinating realm and I’m still inspired by the diverse range of practices—it can be both culturally and politically rigorous. It took a while to convince myself that I can step back and focus on making objects which I would have full control of. I never want to be part of a larger system, so this definitely helps with finding my voice. We live in a world with so many issues and problems, it can feel very helpless and frustrating. This practice might not be my way of contributing to that, as it is in comparison a very ineffective way of speaking up about political issues. But I do find contentment and fulfilment in making objects for people around me and knowing they would bring delight to their lives. In the end, making works out of love and care is a way of being resilient to the part of world which we don’t agree with.
Making works out of love and care is a way of being resilient to the part of world which we don’t agree with.
What is a place, or object, or piece of art you like to return to (for inspiration, or calm, or anything really)?
Lying down and looking up to the sky. It doesn’t matter where I am geologically, or what time it is, when I lie down and look up, the surrounding world disappears and I’m left with the world as I remembered it originally as a kid. It is nostalgic and I am definitely romanticising it to trick my mind that I have traveled back in time to my grandparents’ hometown. It’s always been the same sun, moon and sky, and trees move in the same way with the wind. I could be anywhere in the world and time becomes infinite.
Venture beyond the paywall for: Mo’s advice on how to make your home sing; two stunning films; and a basics brand for the Flore Flore-ites.
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