Ideas brought to life. Content made to connect.

For a year I led bilingual content and campaign delivery for THE STUDIO, a hybrid private-dining and contemporary-art venue in Taipei — five exhibitions and 15+ art dinners, workshops, talks and tasting events for 300+ guests. Every project gave me a complete story to shape: the artist and idea, the invitation, the dining or live experience, and the content that extended its reach afterwards.

For each campaign I translated the concept into a consistent set of touchpoints: bilingual copy, posters, social graphics, email campaigns, web updates and original event photography. I adapted the message to each format while keeping one recognisable voice and visual system.

I also handled the production behind the content — artist and partner coordination, schedules, workshops, talks and dinners — so the material I published came from direct knowledge of the people, context and audience rather than a second-hand brief.

Art prints are hard to sell flat — a customer needs the scale and the room it belongs in. So I mocked up every print in a range of interiors, matching the frame to the furniture and the light, so someone could picture it on their own wall before buying.

My content practice is grounded in audience behaviour. Whether I am editing a concept film or building an in-product walkthrough, I start with the moment a viewer is confused, curious or ready to act, then use pacing, hierarchy and plain language to move them forward. My Master of Information Systems adds research, journey mapping and measurement to that creative process.

New customers were opening the product and stalling. I reviewed the full process, documented 15+ places where users got stuck, then created the content response: eight guided task flows with animated screen recordings, 19 help articles and 50+ specifications. The Product Lead estimated the knowledge base could address 90%+ of common early-stage enquiries.

A three-minute concept film for an app that gets a student from their timetable to the right room. I edited it in Adobe Premiere Pro — shaping the cut, pacing, countdown device, on-screen titles and sound into one clear narrative.

It opens on the problem rather than the product: a clock ticking down while someone circles a sandstone building, looking for a lecture theatre the signage won't admit to. The interface only appears once you already want it to.

Every one of these carries the same information set — title, dates, session times, venue, address, QR code, organiser lock-up — and the whole job is deciding what a person sees first, second and third. Several are bilingual, with English and Traditional Chinese sharing one layout.

Tactile maps are embossed, not printed — raised lines and surfaces that a blind or low-vision reader traces by hand. My part sits before the machine: I draw the map as clean line work and colour-code every area, so the production technician knows which lines and surfaces to raise. The colours aren't decoration; they're instructions. Two projects: one to get someone out of a building, one to get them to the right counter.

An ongoing series made over many visits to Taipei Zoo and Australia Zoo in Queensland — going often, slowly, watching how the animals actually are inside the lives we've built for them.

What I keep looking for is in the eyes and the small behaviours: sometimes something that reads as sadness, sometimes a stillness that looks like ease, occasionally something close to contentment. I don't arrive with a verdict about whether zoos should exist — I'm trying to look honestly, and to notice the moments where an animal's state feels unexpectedly familiar.