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In the latest in our series, designer Stanley Wong puts his finger on how Hong Kong lost its way

We need to recapture the Lion Rock spirit, says designer Stanley Wong

Designer Stanley Wong fears Hong Kong has lost its can-do spirit. Is there hope for the future? Yes, if we all tap into our basic humanity again

Q: What is one thing Hong Kong should do to brush up its competitiveness?

A: It should wake up from past glories and identify its present strengths to keep up with the changing world

Complacency and stagnation are two predilections that hamper creativity and thus competitiveness, says Stanley Wong Ping-pui, the city's prolific creative designer most famous for his "red, white and blue" artwork series.

He cites these twin dangers as warning signs he saw in his personal life more than two decades ago, but he fears they apply to Hong Kong too.

While he took action, Hong Kong's trajectory could not have been more different.

The Hong Kong-born designer is going from strength to strength, enjoying the limelight in Tokyo at his first solo show at the Ginza Graphic Gallery Exhibition this month. By contrast, Hong Kong has slipped, from hitting a lower spot in global happiness and liveability indices to losing its spot as China's most competitive city to Shenzhen.

"Hong Kong's rise in just 30 years from a small entrepot in the 1960s to an international financial centre in the 1990s was indeed spectacular," Wong says, starting off generously.

"But after that it has been dominated by monetary-related businesses, namely finance and property. Despite many ups and downs since, including two international financial crises and Sars, the same model is basically unchanged for the past 20 years.

"Marching on the spot aside, the bigger issue is the great stride our neighbours have made. Singapore has moved on in constant momentum. Shenzhen too has changed a great deal in the past 20 years, so have Shanghai and Beijing and even China as a whole. Hong Kong seems to become increasingly passive. From students to professionals, there is only one question to ask: what's next?"

Wong says he, too, wrestled with that inevitable ennui or discontentment over what's ahead once he had achieved a modicum of success. He faced it 20 years ago, during those fat years when all manner of demands of the people were indulged in the run-up to Hong Kong's handover. Wong, at the height of his career, saw dark clouds on the horizon.

"I was 33 and, as the creative director of a top international advertising company, led a team of 300 staff and worked 16 to 20 hours a day serving big clients such as the MTR. Until one day I was struck with a series of questions: 'When I lie on my death bed and ask myself how I would summarise my life, what would it be? Serving my clients' business such as getting more MTR passengers or selling more flats? Is that all I have given my life to?" he said.

" " - Cantonese for "no way" - were the two words that popped out unbidden. A deep soul-searching ensued, and Wong "opened a new folder" to adopt a second identity as "anothermountainman", after legendary painter of the Ming dynasty Zhu Da, also known as "The Great Eighth Mountain Man".

"As anothermountainman, I can focus on genuine personal interests and pursuits without getting mixed up with the business person in Stanley Wong," he says.

It did not take long for the new identity to stand out, making its debut as the designer behind the spectacular poster of Wong Kar-wai's blockbuster movie .

"Nobody knew who anothermountainman was. Someone even thought it was a Japanese name," he laughs.

A few years later, Wong's second identity took him across the border as artistic adviser to a fashion brand in Guangzhou by the name Exception de Mixmind, or in Chinese, serving high-profile clients including first lady Peng Liyuan .

But the most famous product of anothermountainman is the "red, white and blue" series since 2003. Hailed at the 51st Venice Biennale in 2005, the tri-colour brand is now commonly associated with the "positive spirit of Hong Kong".

Looking back, Wong says Hong Kong has been stagnating because of the general complacency that crept into society in the run-up to the 1997 handover.

"Everyone took their Hong Kong identity for granted and got settled in. They were so used to their success, big or small, from the recent past that they had no sense of crisis and were ignorant about the success of others," he says. "Over time, they became slow to react except for speculative activities for quick profits. Such a mode was fundamentally different from the city's rise since the 1960s, which was based on hard work and a general spirit of giving rather than taking."

Such a mentality, he adds, gives rise to short-sightedness and an insistence on instant success.

"When I told young students it took me 20 years to build up my career, there was disbelief. To them, even two years were too long," he says.

Wong observes that the pace of the city is becoming dangerously fast and few stop and pause to think critically. The smartphone culture has made it worse. "Unlike the teahouse I presented in Venice in which people chatted over tea and dim sum, people now look at their own cellphones and interactive conversation is rare. It's all one-way communication now.

"In the real world, people have to follow it up during a quarrel or a fight. Have you seen anyone disappear or stay quiet in the middle of action? But in social media, people can choose to reply or simply go away. This, I think, breeds irresponsibility and thinking without depth," he says.

Wong cites brainstorming sessions in which he has seen people in the room remain idle "because they don't want to challenge or be challenged". Instead of promoting communication between people, technology has alienated them.

"Our city has lost, not economy or opportunity, but ecology, one that is made of people and the interactive energy among them. What we see in Central and Mong Kok and all the shopping malls there is anything but routine, which is nowhere close to the night markets in Taipei. We seem to be stuck in a stagnant situation and consume all of our energy in the daily routine." After a pause, he says the so-called "Under the Lion Rock Spirit" of the 1970s that underscored mutual help against adversity is long gone from Hong Kong society.

"It doesn't exist today, very honestly speaking, after all the fight, resistance, enmity, it's no longer with us. But whether it is forever gone, I can't tell," he adds.

As a devout Buddhist, Wong believes in the old Chinese saying that things reaching an extreme will backfire.

There was one rare moment over the 17 years in which he saw the Lion Rock Spirit reignited among the Hong Kong populace during the crisis over the outbreak of severe acute respiratory syndrome.

"That was the period immediately after Sars in 2003 when genuine friendship emerged as the society moaned during trials and tribulations. But in less than half a year, everybody returned to their ecstasy in property and other daily pursuits. So the communal spirit is still inside us. It's a bit ironic for that to emerge only after a death toll close to 300. But I do want it to come out of us more often," he says.

"The great loss of human lives in the epidemic drew the community together, bypassing sentiments of anger, confrontation, and disagreement among us. That I think reflects the very fundamentals of human values."

It is that basic humanity that Wong advises everyone in Hong Kong to revisit, just like he did some 20 years ago.

"By revisiting oneself, I don't mean one asks how to make more money or how to survive the oppressing reality. As a member of the global village, I believe there is a higher value that is above commercial or even personal interest. It could be a social, spiritual and human value. But one has to go search for it oneself," he says.

He recalls one social value of his generation in the 1960s and 1970s was a sense of duty over how and what to give to society without thinking of the returns.

But now the reverse is true.

"We grew up with the concept of self-learning in order to contribute better to the society. But the present generation is calculative about what they get first. I think that is very shortsighted," he laments.

But after watching the young participants in the 79-day Occupy movement last year, Wong says he still has some hope for the future - that they are committed to shaping a vision for the city.

"Before that movement, I thought the youngsters had wisdom but without commitment or devotion. What happened was something very rare and I think the self-learning mode would have an impact in their future career and pursuits," he says.

In a way, Wong has done his part to harness the positive energy of his city as expressed through his iconic tri-colour artworks that he has financed himself and tried to publicise.

"I have no vested interests in what I do. All it shows is that my heart for Hong Kong is not yet dead and is getting proactive. That's why I keep looking for space to reach out to students through talks and workshops at schools. Aside from knowledge, I think ethical study is even more important for the young these days, especially commitment, dedication, and making things happen.

"I often tell myself this: as long as I can convince one audience, I already break even. That's why I am always optimistic," he says with a laugh.

 

Designer Stanley Wong's meteoric career took off in tandem with Hong Kong's transformation

Stanley Wong
Designer Stanley Wong Ping-pui grew up in the period that Hong Kong was transformed from an entrepot to a major international finance centre. Born in 1960, Wong lived in basic housing during those early years.

"My family lived in a rooftop flat in Mong Kok and the steel roof was blown away during typhoon Wanda [in 1962], just like the scene in the movie ," he recalls. Hong Kong, he says, earned its first bucket of gold through light industry when he and his family, like many at the time, worked on some form of handicraft at home, such as the plastic flowers that launched Li Ka-shing's fabled career.

Wong studied design and technology at the Hong Kong Technical Teachers' College after finishing secondary school. By the time he graduated in 1980, Hong Kong had entered its peak years, flourishing in container traffic, tourism, films, and other service industries.

Like the city at large, Wong underwent a meteoric rise in just over a decade that elevated him from a graphic designer to chief executive and creative director at international advertising companies. It was at the peak of his career that he launched an alter ego personality as "anothermountainman" in pursuit of artistic interests that are non-commercial but dear to him.

"Don't get me wrong, I am still giving my best to commercial projects, even today," Wong says with a laugh.

This dual identity since 1990s has secured Wong more than 500 Asian and international awards. His growing concern for social issues is best illustrated in the "red, white and blue" artwork collection, which he says stands for the "positive spirit of Hong Kong".

The tri-colour motif, still Wong's most iconic theme for Hong Kong, is on display throughout this month at the 345th Ginza Graphic Gallery Exhibition in Tokyo.

"It bears witness to what I have done for the past 35 years in business, ideals, persistence and fulfilment," he says of the opening of "2 Men Show Stanley Wong X anothermoutainman" on May 11.

This article appeared in the South China Morning Post print edition as: We need to recapture the spirit of Lion Rock
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