Taiwancore is the new Japandi

A touch of vintage wood, some plants, some funky ceramics and a concrete wall all add up to a tiny Taiwancore moment

Here's something you didn't know about me but might have been able to guess: I have many hobbies, but when I really need to de-stress by hiding in my home curled up on the couch, I binge-watch interior design Youtube. 

Sometimes it's fantastic -- it's given me DIY and space arrangement ideas I would have never thought of on my own. I've learned that the "pop of red" is a bona fide Thing in design right now, and how it can look good.

Taiwancore includes plants and natural materials but can incorporate mid-century modern design (or imitations of it), smooth hard materials such as terrazzo and even faux leather

It's not all worthwhile, however. Even the more engaging creators pore over the same advice about, say, lighting plans, rug size and curtain length. A lot of it boils down to "elevating your space" by simply spending more money. Do you want furniture and floors that look good and will last? Spend more money on floors and furniture! 

The oeuvre does one thing right, however: I've absorbed quite a bit about different design styles and how to approach them. Take "Japandi" for example. It's a made-up word but accurately describes a warm, minimalist, organic style that finds a connection between the clean lines and pared-down aesthetic that is popular in both traditional Japanese and Scandinavian (Scandi) styles. Both rely on neutral colors and an edited look -- that is, having less stuff -- but can be cozy or incorporate a bit of funkiness, whether that's an unexpected color or, say, twisted tree branches or a big weird vase. 

You know Scandi, you know Japandi, but do you know Taiwancore?

The term describes fairly well the style that many upwardly mobile Taiwanese aspire to: perhaps recently free of the clutter of their parents' homes, which may be stuffed glass-fronted wall units full of things nobody uses, boxes in the corner and plastic where plastic simply shouldn't be, so many people I know in Taiwan want light woods, warm neutrals and fewer possessions. 

Take this popular sofa from the Taiwanese maker AJ2, which I happen to be lusting over. When I talk interior design with students and friends, this commercial seems to capture their dreams. I get AJ2 ads that offer "city living, beige vibes". I'm the least beige decorator I know -- my home office is electric purple and fire engine red -- and yet I want their damn sofa. Which means that their ads are good, and capitalism is inescapable.

AJ2 seems to take a lot of style cues from Muji, which is quintessentially minimalist Japanese and also popular in Taiwan. I don't want to talk much about Muji, however, due to allegations of forced labor in their supply chain. 

Or consider this tour of celebrity Chen Zijian/Retina's (視網膜)'s home. It doesn't just scream Japandi -- it's straight-up Japan. Not everyone wants such a literal interpretation, but incorporating overtly Japanese elements into design is very popular in Taiwan, for both historical and contemporary reasons. 

Taiwancore is fundamentally Japanese, but can include a touch of the weird or out-of-context

Japanese design also suits the Taiwanese environment, not only because there are still many old Japanese-era houses to take as reference points, but because high-quality durable natural materials do well in this climate, whereas thick rugs and particle board don't. There's a reason why maintained or restored Japanese buildings, despite being decades older, can remain lovely and even inhabitable, whereas the junk built by the newly-arrived KMT is falling apart and looks like crap no matter how much work you put into it. 

Taiwancore does not require Chinese design elements, but vintage Japanese and early 20th century elements are major reference points

There's another style in Taiwan, though, that is popular across commercial spaces, from boutique hotels to twee cafes. I would like nothing more than to see it creep into residential design, and perhaps it already is. 

Taken from the recent popularity of interior design buzzwords like cluttercore, Barbiecore and carnivalcore -- as well as their antecedents, such as normcore and cottagecore -- I would like to officially dub this particular style Taiwancore.

But what is Taiwancore? When I posted about it on social media, not everyone shared my vision of what is and is not part of this style. It's not the same as "your grandma's house", because while I can't speak for Gen Z, the Millenians and Gen X Taiwanese I know aren't at all interested in their homes looking like Sunday at Auntie Chen's in Yunlin. 

It's something a bit more than that. More modern, more pared-down, more relaxing and aesthetically pleasing.

What I'm about to say is of course just my opinion about the design elements behind Taiwancore, which is a term I made up, not a real thing in any official sense. I'm not a designer, and I don't speak for all of Taiwan (or any of it, really). I speak for me. 

Perfect Taiwancore: terrazzo, wood-frame furniture, milk and textured glass, big windows, white walls, vintage lamps, plants and a shoe rack. From Sunnyday House homestay in Hualien.

Taiwancore may draw its base inspiration from Japanese design, but it doesn't stop there. I'd argue it's just a bit more cluttered, more reliant on the use of plants, and quite a bit more colorful. 

I would say Tainan is both the spiritual and literal home of Taiwancore, and has the biggest concentration of it. All those creatives who decided Taipei was too dour, expensive, and full of old people with crappy opinions who moved to Tainan to do their thing have really contributed to this. That said, you can find examples of it across Taiwan. For instance, here are several fun cafes and restaurants in Miaoli -- yes, Miaoli -- that embrace the style. (The post is pre-pandemic so I can't guarantee they're all still open).

Taiwancore is more than just a way of decorating that happens to have originated in Taiwan, which can be used to describe the interiors of many popular cafes and restaurants. I'd call it a design style for two reasons: first, it's recognizable and cohesive. There are principles, and you can design according to them. 

Wood, woven materials, concrete, terrazzo, vintage amber glass and a dog: classic Taiwancore, and each has its cultural place.

Secondly, it's tied to Taiwanese culture and identity. After successive waves of colonization over the centuries, from the Dutch to the Qing to Japan to the ROC, and decades of the KMT telling Taiwanese they are merely a subset of some Great Chinese Nation and do not have their own culture, a Taiwan that has discovered itself, taken note of its distinct culture evolved from multiple roots -- which include but are not limited to Chinese cultural heritage -- design elements that may not seem meaningful at first glance actually do carry some weight. 

Tile and polished concrete are such common building materials that of course they'd have an impact on the style. The climate helps the whole plant-based element. That bright cyan color can be traced to its heavy use in the 1950s. Design icons, from blue and white sandals to blue, green and red shopping bags to mullet roe and milkfish, have turned into totems or even shibboleths (in that they are also items in past and current use) distinguishing Taiwan as a cultural entity. 

And, of course, when one looks back on Taiwanese colonial history, and Japan -- as horrible as the Japanese empire was -- seems to have been a better deal than what the KMT pushed on Taiwan -- of course the reasons for the heavy Japanese influence become apparent. Or perhaps Japan left behind so much infrastructure that it's made its way into contemporary design style just as concrete and tile have.

At Daddy & Mommy in Houlong, Miaoli, you ring a temple demon bell to get the boss's attention -- a more intentional connection between design and culture.

Yes, this is culture. Culture is so often too narrowly defined by just a few of its aspects, such as literature, traditional dress, cuisine and music. Those things matter, but culture is better defined as how a group of people make sense of the world in identifiably similar (though perhaps not exactly the same) ways. That includes things like how climate impacts your daily life, how you relate to your living space and objects that immediately convey a sense of 'home' or 'daily life' to those who recognize and use them. It includes how history impacts lives today.

Interior design is an outgrowth of culture -- which you can see in all sorts of styles, from Scandinavian to Japanese to Early American (which in its worst form might be called Coloniawful) to Mediterranean to, yes, British design. How houses are built is part of culture. That American houses tend to use wood frames but Asia has gone all in on concrete is part of culture. That Mediterranean style leans on blue and white but India prefers a rainbow of Dayglo colors is culture. What we put in our homes and why is culture. Intentionally repurposing and restoring old spaces after decades of tearing them down is culture. Taiwancore is culture.

The restored aesthetic at Sun Hong Ho in Tainan, complete with colored glass eight-sided window.

 

Polished concrete walls, textured glass, a pop of blue-green, plants and even a Taiwan map: not your mother's house, but excellent contemporary Taiwancore at Reinstatement in Houlong, Miaoli

It is very vintage-inspired and relies on heavy use of bamboo, wood and woven materials, which in a sense gives it elements of boho style (or, as that word has been called offensive as it comes from "bohemian" meaning Romani-inspired, "global eclectic"). 

This is perhaps a bit too literal (and literally old) for Taiwancore, but the reference points are there

This doesn't mean grandma's deeply uncomfortable cherrywood sofa with the thin, scratchy cushions; nothing can make that look good. But it does mean wood-framed and rattan furniture, old bookcases and curated antique items. Nothing screams Taiwancore more than a vintage or vintage-inspired chair on a terrazzo floor, next to a big window looking out on a slightly wild green garden. On a side table or the windowsill, perhaps there are a few interesting books and a textured ceramic vase.

Pops of color (although colored walls are unusual), terrazzo, wood and a touch of clutter: excellent Taiwancore from Bar Home in Tainan

Other popular materials include terrazzo, preferably authentic or original to the space and polished concrete. The old-style textured glass with bougainvillea or star patterns is prized rather than thrown out (and as a result the cost of secondhand windows has gone from "almost nothing" to "surprisingly expensive").

Polished concrete, even on walls, lends an industrial element to some Taiwancore.

There are other vintage elements that are either key to the style, or could be. Older iron window grilles are very much a part of this style, but I haven't seen those old-style terracotta tiles coming back, but I think they should. The same goes for vintage Majolica tiles, although they sell well in the collectors' Facebook groups I'm in. Majolica-inlaid stools and side tables would work perfectly with this style. Less expensive patterned tiles, however, have seen a resurgence -- commercial spaces, at least, seem at least somewhat more interested in preserving them than tearing them out.

Old style tiles and a Taiwan Independence flag at Chan Shifan, a popular Taipei eatery

Neutrals are a big part of the style, especially considering the use of wood, bamboo, rattan and polished concrete. Linens and undyed canvas are right at home in this style, and can even be paired with, say, faux leather.

That said, Taiwancore can and does include more color than you'd expect. Taiwancore is very good at the "pop of red" and incorporation of blue and white, given the Chinese influence. Green comes in through the profusion of plants, if not in the house, then just outside it. The bright aqua or cyan color I once wrote about is a part of the style, especially when paired with red, but actually seems to be on its way out a little bit: a few years ago, every new cafe seemed to have a false wall made of reclaimed wood or windowpanes, and parts of it inevitably included the cyan color one sees everywhere, especially on old window casements. They're less popular now, but I'd love to see cyan come back in other ways -- paired with red for a more traditional look and eye-catching contrast, or in a more unexpected place, such as textiles. 

Textured glass, pops of color such as red and cyan and window grilles are key elements of Taiwancore

Wood, textured glass, window grille, natural materials in the blinds, and a pop of red: Taiwancore at its finest

In fact, textiles are already a popular way to add color, from vintage '70s knits that use hot pink, green, yellow, orange and brown to contemporary patterns by Taiwan-based companies like inBlooom and Gimgoanheng. While inBlooom tends to feature traditionally Taiwanese designs with a more muted or pastel palate, Gimgoanheng dives straight into color, including a blue/green/red shopping-bag inspired pattern that I absolutely love. Those shopping bags are making a comeback, and I especially like seeing the color palate in new contexts.

The only place where color doesn't often make an appearance is on walls: whitewashed, polished cement or wood paneled walls can all be found in Taiwancore, but not so much walls painted a color. While I'd like to see that change (remember, I'm a "let's paint it electric purple" type of person), I suppose this allows brighter colors in textiles and tiles to be more of a focal point.

Plants are indispensable to Taiwancore, even if they're outside

One could say that Taiwancore is a confluence of traditional Japanese and Chinese design, and in a way it is. I'd argue, however, that you can take the Chinese influence out of Taiwancore -- lean less on, say, the reds, golds and the plants in mismatched blue and white ceramic pots -- but removing the Japanese influence is simply not possible. That Japaneseness can be paired with other things, like furniture that leans more mid-century (in fact, Mid-Century Modern chairs and tables work very well), or accessories that reference Art Deco and the Jazz Age, or a more organic-hippie look (think baskets and creamy canvas reusable shopping bags). It cannot, however, be ignored. '

Taiwancore can include elements of Chinese design, but the vintage elements and emphasis on plants are more central.

Taiwancore embraces vintage dishware, deep jewel hues and unusual or curved shapes -- it's not all Japanese neutrals and light woods

Speaking of the 1920s, I've actually seen more Art Deco elements enter the style in recent years, which might be due to the Japanese influence present in Taiwan in that era, or because Art Deco is regaining popularity now. Some of my favorite restaurants and cafes in Tainan have been leaning hard into brass curves and jewel tones, perhaps through an unexpected pop of peacock blue, or inspired by the green glaze of traditional ventilation tiles.  

A pop of blue, a funky shape, ceramic -- all elements of Taiwancore even in the smallest accessories, like this soap dish.

If you want to break up the neutrals, grass, lime, bottle green or green glaze are all good choices for Taiwancore colors. Any green or blue will do, though.

Again, notice that this isn't exactly the same as simply old-school Taiwanese interiors that you might see at someone's parents' house. You know what I mean: the cherrywood, overstuffed faux leather sofas, scratchy white lace antimacassars, "bunch of stuff" on the coffee table, including some candy and a box of tissues. The heavy beige curtains with floral patterns and perhaps edged with fringe or little puffballs. The tile floors and perhaps even tile walls, even in the living room. I suppose the tiles are easier to clean, especially when the refrigerator is also in the living room.

That is perhaps another, older version of Taiwancore, and elements can be taken from it. Artfully placed blue and white plastic sandals on your (non-tile) floor. A touch of faux leather, but not quite so worn out and overstuffed, and certainly not blue. Perhaps your parents' slightly ugly side table, but without the Bunch of Stuff. Just a touch of clutter: we're not going for perfect minimalism here. Shoe rack by the door -- after all, that's functional. But the decor pieces are more likely to come from grandparents' farm than your parents' place that they decorated in 1982 and never changed.

This advertisement featuring a pun referencing buckwheat milk and boobs is both funky and fundamentally Taiwancore -- not for the pun, but for the art style

Organic shapes are also an under-appreciated element of Taiwancore. Plant shapes are present in the style, from the patterns in bougainvillea glass to the leaves and waves popular in Japanese design. Curves matter too, whether from mid-century style chairs or, for those who lean hard into old-school furniture, tree trunk tea tables, tea trays and wooden baskets.

If you're lucky enough to have a round or otherwise interestingly-shaped window, all the better. If not, embracing geometry also works: a vintage hexagon or octagon window is a nice touch, if you can get it. Stuck with squares and rectangles? I've been seeing hexagon and octagon coasters and trays, too. The hexagon is probably a global trend -- Millenials loved it. Octagons are perhaps more of a nod to eight-sided bagua (八卦) from Chinese culture.

Rattan lends itself well to this; nothing brings in curves quite like a vintage bentwood rocking chair. One of my favorite Tainan hotels has a room that features such a chair. I covet it.

All this to say, Taiwancore is unique, and its underlying design principles -- organic and plant-based elements, vintage furniture, Japanese roots and less fear of color than some design styles -- are identifiable and worth consideration. And while the decor elements one more immediately associates with Taiwanese homes, such as uncomfortable wooden furniture, plastic-topped tables, white tile floors and heavy beige curtains. 

Taiwancore is your grandparents' vintage, not your parents

Unlike those outdated living spaces, Taiwancore embraces color, wood, cool and smooth materials, funky shapes and patterns, connections to the outdoors thanks to big windows and lots of plants, and a reference point that dates from long before heavy beige curtains became a thing.

A colorful antimacassar, faux leather sofa, bamboo blinds and plants at Tainan's Chung Fu Inn (also note the false wall made of white abacuses, because Taiwancore embraces funky elements)

Not modern Taiwancore, but the tiles, plants and Mt. Fuji window grille are all popular elements

A reclaimed wood built-in at Good Food Good Times in downtown Miaoli

Unadorned white walls and neutral woods allow the patterned vintage tiles to stand out, and note the plants visible from the windows at Cafe Kokoni in Tainan

Lime green, old brick and concrete, bentwood chairs, hanging vintage-inspired lamps at Cheng Kang Noodle Bar in Hualien

Don't forget the heaps of plants and the pops of color -- at La Belle Maison in Anping, Tainan

A bit literal for contemporary Taiwancore, but the brich, tile and funky shapes -- from the peaches to the wood elements -- are all part of the style.

Big windows, plants, terrazzo and wood at Daddy&Mommy in Houlong, Miaoli

Brick, plants, wood, ceramic and pops of color in blue, green and red

Red tiles -- I'm telling you, that pop of red -- plants, concrete and an eight-sided door at Reinstatement in Houlong, Miaoli

A big window, plants, vintage chairs and a touch of industrial chic at Follow Green in Tainan

Vintage chairs, wood, old glass, a big door, pops of red and green with a little clutter and a touch of Chinese decor at Cafe Bar in Tainan

The Not-So-Secret Garden: The Hsu Family Mansion in Dashe

I haven't felt like commenting on current affairs this week; if I have nothing unique to say, I don't necessarily see the point of blogging for the sake of it. 

But here's what I do want to talk about: Kaohsiung! I go for work a few times a year, and try to arrive early so I can meet up with friends and enjoy the city. Just before I got COVID -- and remained positive for a highly irritating 18 days -- I took one of these trips, stopping in Taichung on the way. In fact, that's probably how I got sick.

On this trip, I went out to Dashe (大社) to meet one of my oldest friends in Taiwan. She picked me up at Metropolitan Park station and we stopped at a well-regarded dumpling chain for lunch. Then, we decided to find the Hsu Family Mansion (許家古國). For a sleepy town, Dashe is packed with old farmhouses and mansions; in fact, it might be packed with them because it's sleepy: there's no particular reason to tear them down! You can read about some of these places here, although I haven't even been to every place I'd like to see in the area yet.

The Hsu house is notoriously hard to find. Despite being in downtown Dashe, in a lane but not far at all from a main road, my friend who actually lives in Dashe did not know where it was -- only that it existed. "It's like a secret garden," she said. Somewhere in the lanes in a more built-up part of the city, but we had no idea which lanes.

I had to find this place. I knew I wouldn't be the first. Local bloggers have been posting about it for ages. Ultimately, that's how I found it: a local blog with a picture of the correct lane marker. 

It turned out to be extremely easy once we knew the lane. It's very close to the intersection of Sanmin and Cuiping Roads (三民翠屏路口). The intersection itself is fairly interesting, with several Japanese-era buildings, and the temple (accessed by stairs or an elevator) is eye-catching, with some neat mid-century floor tile and a place to hang gold paper wishing papers that overlooks the road. It's dedicated to the Linshui Ladies, three women from Fuzhou who became Taoist priests and founded their own religious school (some say the term only refers to the oldest, Chen Jinggu). The large Japanese-era building next to it may be related to the Hsu family, and the smaller one across the street, now painted a creamy white, was once a hospital.

Head east on Cuiping Road and turn left at Lane 37, which is also the first lane you'll come across. Keep an eye out to your left until you see the roof of an old house peeking out over newer buildings. 





Technically, you have to cross private property to access the Hsu mansion. In reality, it's a tiny alley that winds past a few houses, and nobody really minds if you walk down it. The actual mansion and its courtyard are indeed private property, however. Someone now lives in the old mansion -- I'm not sure if she rents it or is a Hsu family descendant, and it seemed rude to ask -- and if she's home it's polite to ask if you can take a few photos. She said yes to us, and remarked that "foreigners" love to come here, implying she thought the whole thing was kind of overblown for just an old house. From all those blog links above, I am reasonably sure Taiwanese who enjoy hunting for heritage architecture come here more often, but I guess we big-noses stick out more. 







If you stop by and the resident is not there, it should be fine to take a few photos, but be respectful. It's someone's home. 









The Hsu mansion is an example of heritage arts where the artist matters more than the patron. Obviously, the Hsu family was prominent in Dashe; a Hsu was the chair of the Dashe Farmer's Association. The house was built in 1910, during the Japanese era, and isn't especially unique architecturally. What makes it stand out are the colorful Majolica tiles, the green glazed bottle railing on the second-floor balcony, and the outstanding brick carvings of Zhang Jiao (張叫). 

The Zhangs of Dashe have been known as shadow puppet artists for generations, since one of their ancestors founded a troupe in Dashe over 200 years ago. They became quite famous in the 1940s, performing around the world; the then-patriarch Zhang Decheng eventually awarded official 'national treasure'-level status for his creation of the intricate leather shadow puppets. Zhang Decheng died in the 1980s, but his grandson carries on the tradition. 

Zhang Jiao, Zhang Decheng's father, created the brick carvings that adorn the first floor of the Hsu Family Mansion, including the spring scrolls around the door. His work once graced many old houses in the Dashe area, but most have been torn down, so these examples of his artistry are rare and valuable. Zhang Jiao was also known as "Hanfan" (憨番), which are those creepy little carved dudes, often resembling Westerners, one sees holding up beams in old temples. 





On an interesting tangent, I'm not the only one who's never heard of a Hanfan outside Taiwan, and the story goes that they were modeled after Dutch colonists, as a means for locals to vent their frustrations -- the Hanfan always carry a heavy burden such as a roof beam and generally look a bit ridiculous. I've also heard of Hanfan being carved to resemble the person sponsoring the temple's creation, basically as a way for artists to show they're annoyed by the rich dude issuing orders. Why was Zhang Jiao, famous sculptor and scion of the Zhang shadow puppet family of Dashe, nicknamed "Hanfan"? Somebody surely knows, but it isn't me. 

In addition to the Zhang Jiao brick carvings and Majolica tiles, the Hsu mansion also has cochin-fired pottery reliefs (you can learn more about those here) telling various folk stories, though these seem to mostly be on the second floor balcony where they're difficult to see, and you can't go up. You can kind of see it on the sides of the second story from below, but I couldn't get anything like a good vantage point.





Taken together, the house itself may be an architecturally simple two-story affair, but it is striking nevertheless. Its reputation as a 'hidden spot' or 'secret garden' (although lots of people have been here and it's often written up on government tourism websites) only enhances its allure. One blogger praised its fine use of "color theory", and I tend to agree: it's beautiful because all of those bright colors -- especially the blues and greens -- contrast against the red brick, which itself is beautifully carved.

In other words, the Hsu family certainly had money to spend on cochin pottery reliefs, carved brick from a renowned local artist and a profusion of Majolica tiles, and clearly someone involved in the design process had a flair for maximalist color and pattern.

My Glass Persimmon

On a sad day like 228, I want to write something that, while perhaps a bit maudlin, is also hopeful. 

Let me share with you my glass persimmon. 

You can buy them new - they usually come in pairs for reasons explained below - but I found this one at an antique/vintage shop for 30NT (about US$1). 

Foreign friends may not immediately 'get' that this is the sort of thing you're likely to see at your grandma's house - it's kind of an old-style thing. Literally like a kitschy figurine your elderly relative might have around.

Persimmons  are a major agricultural product in Taiwan and are one of many popular fruits for gifts. Most fruits given as gifts have an 'auspicious meaning' and persimmons are no different. They're most commonly grown in the mountainous parts of Hsinchu - they're also found in Taoyuan county around Lalashan - and often eaten dried, like a candy - dried persimmons are exceedingly sweet.

The word for persimmon (柿子, or shìzi) sounds like the "shi" in 事事如意 (shì shì rú yì, or "everything is going well"). The first character is doubled - I suppose that's why glass persimmons usually come in sets of two. 

You can buy glass fruits of all kinds, but it seems persimmons are particularly common - that's probably because of their appealing flattened circle shape. They make good paperweights and are fairly common as gifts as well. It's traditional to put a little gold leaf inside to signify wealth and prosperity (or perhaps just to look nice). I also personally think the opaque coral-orange color of red persimmons is an attractive choice and works well in glass.

In all my years in Asia, I haven't seen glass persimmons as decorative items - especially in the style of my persimmon - anywhere but Taiwan (though they might exist elsewhere; I haven't been everywhere). They have the same meaning in China, but even the first search result for glass persimmons in Chinese culture comes up with a fancy glass persimmon sold by a Taiwanese company- at a much higher price than I paid for mine! (More affordable options are available). 

I don't really mind that I don't have two. Just the one, on my coffee table, is perfect. 

So why do I like mine? 

First of all, persimmons are an early autumn fruit, in season right around my birthday, which often coincides with Mid-Autumn Festival.

Plus, over the past few years I've spent more time intentionally decorating my apartment to look modern and clean, but with comfy retro and antique twists. Think "Taiwanese auntie with good taste" or, these days, "Taiwan hipster coffee shop". 

No, really. The decor is totally Taiwan hipster cafe. 

I spent a lot of time putting together a 'vintage Taiwan' wall, and my little persimmon fits nicely in this style. The color contrasts well with all of the blue I tend to use in my decorating. That this type of knickknack is just so typically Taiwan really appeals to me, too. 

But mostly I like the way it feels in my hand. Cool, heavy, smooth, and perfectly circular. I've been dealing with a heavy workload, academic stress and general anxiety over the past year, and it's calming to pick it up and roll it around in my hands. 

(That paragraph is starting to sound like an intentional setup to a "that's what she said" crack, so I'll stop there.) 

It's like this: 2019 and 2020 have been stressful years for me academically. It feels like my dissertation is never going to get done. But my glass persimmon is a reminder that if I just keep doing the work, there is an endpoint and 事事如意 - everything will turn out well. 

And, being 228, it's a reminder that Taiwan has had a long and painful history, a history that many people want to pretend doesn't exist independently (oh, but it does). Even now, it faces general threats from China, and a particular threat to public health from COVID-19. Again and again it's had to rise to meet various challenges - including pushing a foreign dictatorship out of power. Mostly, its efforts and admirable successes have gone ignored on the world stage. 

There's no clear endpoint in sight for Taiwan, but we have to believe that 事事如何 - everything will turn out right in the end.