There's something decidedly undesigner-y about the home of interior designer Liang Tan. In a good way. In a world of neutral palettes, open plans and walls of windows, his colourful, cosy apartment, tucked away in a post-war Mid-Levels walk-up, is something of an anachronism.
It's small, dark and festooned with possessions. Walls are stacked floor-to-ceiling with books, gifts and family heirlooms. Everywhere you look, something interesting arrests the eye: a large, colourful painting by 'Frog King' Kwok Mang-ho; tiny artworks, such as Terry Batt's head-bobbing, solar-powered man; a pair of vintage mannequins wearing towers of hats; or a souvenir model of Moscow's St Basil's Cathedral. A 'garden' of potted plants sits next to a reading chair under the brightest window.
Nothing matches and yet everything goes. It feels real, loved and comfortable - just like home. And that is where Tan's professional touch is evident.
With such a wealth of possessions, treading the fine line between charming and cluttered takes skill and imagination. There's nothing haphazard about the way things are arranged: book spines are colour coordinated, a red and gold painting by an unknown Japanese artist perfectly complements an antique obi table runner, and the wooden boxes that prop up the bookshelves frame appropriately sized treasures, such as barnacled porcelain vases from a Qing dynasty shipwreck.
'It's funny,' Tan says, 'because my designs for work are quite minimalist. But I've got too much stuff to do it here. Besides, I like the lived-in look.'
Does he ever throw anything out? 'All the time!' he exclaims. 'Actually, these days, I call my friends and they come round and take it away. I just got rid of a fish tank.'
