Made in Beijing

I'm moving over to www.caroloncarroll.tumblr.com.

[madeinbeijing]

Moving

You can find me over at Carol on Carroll. 

[madeinbeijing]

Paper #yuca

[madeinbeijing]

Ceramic sandwiches #mociun

[madeinbeijing]

Water tower as water dispenser! #latergram #factoryfloorbk #brooklyn #localartists

[madeinbeijing]

Look at that view. This was taken earlier this year, in Stanley, Hong Kong. 

[madeinbeijing]

So nice to be home.

[madeinbeijing]

Fall flowers!

[madeinbeijing]

My new things #HAYkaleido #eclecticcool #pohingfong

[madeinbeijing]

#kujodesignhk xiaolongbao gift tags!

[madeinbeijing]

Japanese wrapping paper from Page One

[madeinbeijing]

My beautiful new things.

[madeinbeijing]

Anatomy of a Chinese City

"By taking the time to observe the 'urban artifacts' that make a Chinese city unique, compiling over 100 drawings of everything from buildings to bicycles, Thomas Batzenschlager and Clémence Pybaro have preserved a piece of Chinese history that is quickly going extinct. 

In a world where, in the race for progress, quotidian realities are erased unthinkingly, Anatomy of a Chinese City is not just a resource, but a call-to-action, reminding us to slow down and observe the very human context that surrounds us." 

[madeinbeijing]

Dangdai MOMA #beijing

[madeinbeijing]

I adore these.

[madeinbeijing]

A lovely meal with friends in a gorgeous space.

[madeinbeijing]

#pageone

[luckypeach]

Hua Hsu: Wokking the Suburbs

Illustrations by Yina Kim

Read More

[madeinbeijing]

...The first my mother ever heard of Chinatown was in Life magazine. Back in Taiwan, her father had invested in a subscription and given my mom and her siblings “American” names in the 1950s, out of some faint desire to show them a world beyond the dreariness of postwar Taipei. But “Chinatown” was a strange thing for her to wrap her mind around.

“I knew there was a place called Chinatown in America,” she tells me, “but it was a foreign place.”

And yet, my father says, “Chinatown could connect you back to Taiwan. It was mostly Cantonese, so it wasn’t exactly like where you came from; they didn’t even speak the same dialect. But it came the closest. You could buy newspapers, magazines. There was food.” He pauses and tries to find the right phrasing. “Spiritual food.”

I never asked my father what he meant by this—“spiritual food.” I liked the sound of it. It was probably just a provisional way of translating his thoughts into English; something a little too metaphysical sounding that he would no doubt have retracted if pressed for clarification.