Meet Shuowei Lao | Graphic designer

We had the good fortune of connecting with Shuowei Lao and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Shuowei, what’s the most difficult decision you’ve ever had to make?
One of the most difficult decisions in my career has been defining the direction of my own creative style. I often face such decisions, and each time feels like a fundamental shift. I find myself constantly navigating between technology, humanity, and self-expression. Yet it is precisely these decisions that have kept me on the path of creation. The outcome has never been the most important part—what matters more to me is the process of making those choices.

Most of the time, these decisions are self-initiated. However, there was one exception, driven entirely by external circumstances. I lost a suitcase that contained a notebook full of graphic design sketches, my drawing tools, and a hard drive with all my previous works. In essence, I lost every trace of my creative past. After the initial wave of grief, I faced a critical decision: should I try to recover what was lost and continue on the same trajectory, or should I treat this as an opportunity to leap forward in a new direction?

After weeks of inner turmoil, I ultimately chose to let go of my past hand-drawn style along with the lost tools and sketches. Instead, I committed myself to exploring the more communicative and wide-reaching field of type design.

Alright, so let’s move onto what keeps you busy professionally?
My creative tools are typography and graphics. Unlike traditional artists or designers, I prefer to realize my work through the medium of books. In particular, I’m drawn to art books, where editing, photography, printing, typography, and graphic design intertwine—forming a medium that is both traditional and innovative.

However, this medium also brings with it many challenges. The biggest difficulty lies in the limitations of the flat surface. Even though there are precedents for three-dimensional books, the vast majority of books still rely on a flat format, and readers can typically only see two pages at a time—like blinking. This makes the continuity of content incredibly important. By continuity, I don’t mean a linear narrative, but rather a method of visual perception, a way of seeing. There is an endless amount of creative territory to explore in this space.

What I’m most proud of in my book-making practice is my ability to use a repetitive, almost epic narrative logic to express the subtle and nuanced. That paradox is what draws me in. Historically, books were not mass-owned by the public, so their themes were often either obscure or grounded in the everyday, yet still not truly “ordinary.” What I strive for is that very sense of the ordinary. It’s a difficult path, full of obstacles, but I’m still exploring.

Any places to eat or things to do that you can share with our readers? If they have a friend visiting town, what are some spots they could take them to?
Living in the subtropical‑monsoon South of China, I’ve come to see that the region’s charm lies less in awe‑inspiring monuments and more in the quiet weave of everyday life and abundant nature. If my best friend were to visit, I’d invite them to discover this place the most visceral way I know—through its food.

We would begin by greeting the sea: fresh slices of local sashimi brightened with lime juice and garden herbs, followed by a slow stroll along the riverfront, neon reflections dancing on the water and humid night air slipping between the market stalls. At dawn, the city’s traditional produce market would open its kaleidoscope of scent and color—durian, mangosteen, lychee, jackfruit, star‑fruit—each piece of fruit sliced open and offered like a story. Lunch would take us to a countryside “farm‑to‑table” kitchen where seasonal greens and free‑range chicken arrive straight from the fields, before a tea break in a bamboo‑shaded teahouse that seems to breathe with the forest around it.

One morning we would disappear into a misty subtropical forest park, following ridgelines cooled by swirling cloud. A picnic of wild‑mushroom soup and mountain vegetables, cooked by villagers, would taste of earth and clean air. Come evening, back in town, clay‑pot rice arrives sizzling—lap‑cheong sausage crackling beside tender greens fresh from local farms.

Another day belongs to the islands: a short ferry ride, swims in clear water, and a leisurely meal of grilled squid, salt‑baked prawns, and sea‑urchin congee. Sunset would fade behind the horizon as we sip cocktails from a beach bar, the surf keeping time. When we wander urban alleyways, hidden cafés and indie bookshops wait behind half‑open doors; nightfall delivers skewers, rice‑noodle bowls, and spiced duck necks from a lantern‑lit street market, ending in a mountains of shaved ice drizzled with condensed milk and fruit.

Not every experience must be frantic. A morning in the botanical garden or tropical greenhouse gives way to an afternoon shaping clay or dyeing cloth in a small studio, hands learning the region’s crafts. Dinner might fuse Cantonese subtlety with Southeast Asian heat, each plate echoing trade winds that have passed through these shores for centuries. Before departure, we’d linger over brunch in a modern teahouse and wander the handicraft market for edible souvenirs—tea leaves, artisanal snacks, perhaps a hand‑forged kitchen knife to carry flavors home.

What fascinates me about this land is how ordinary life and nature interlace so naturally, revealing themselves most honestly in what we eat. Our skyline can’t compete with grander cities, yet the rhythm between people and their environment hums quietly in every bite. That is the sense of place—unassuming yet profound—that I hope any visitor can taste and keep with them.

The Shoutout series is all about recognizing that our success and where we are in life is at least somewhat thanks to the efforts, support, mentorship, love and encouragement of others. So is there someone that you want to dedicate your shoutout to?
For a designer, opportunities in commercial design are especially important. In my design career, one of the most significant opportunities came from an independent bookstore in Beijing called YAN BOOKS. They were my first client and the commissioning party for the first series of works that truly reflected my personal style.

Operating an independent bookstore in Beijing is incredibly challenging, especially under the city’s strict publishing and content regulations. I met the founder of YAN BOOKS at an art book fair, where he took a strong interest in my book design work. He invited me to create the visual design for the store’s anniversary celebration. I accepted the project and completed it successfully—both sides were very satisfied, and our collaboration continued for nearly ten more projects afterward. We’ve maintained a friendly and productive working relationship ever since.

This project played a key role in helping me gain recognition from the public and clients in other fields. I am truly grateful to him.

Instagram: quarry24pangolin

Image Credits
LOW sekvai