STORY
Two Wongs, one bowl
The studio is named for its initials, and the initials belong to two Wongs. One answers the phone. The other answers to nobody, least of all before noon. Neither will say which is which. That's the full biography they've approved, and they approved it at 2am, so it stands.
The story goes like this. A brief landed at 11pm with a deadline clearly set by someone who had never met a designer. There was a 2am wantan mee run, because there is always a 2am wantan mee run. There was a napkin, because there is always a napkin. On it, someone sketched a sound wave, because the brief was for an audio brand and sound waves were, at that hour, the only shape anyone could still draw.
The wave went up, it went down, and someone squinted at it the way you squint at things after midnight. The crest looked like an M. The trough, mirrored underneath, looked like a W. Nobody planned that. Everybody kept it.
Ship it before the soup goes cold.
Never trust a brief written before noon.
Pickled green chilli is a garnish, not a personality. Same goes for drop shadows.
If it doesn't bounce back after one round of feedback, it wasn't springy enough.
Soup on the side, always. Some things should never touch the main dish.
A deadline is not a vibe. But a vibe can survive a deadline.
Dry or with soup, but never wishy-washy.
The stall that's open at 3am earns your loyalty. So does the client who is.
One good joke per paragraph. The rest is just noise with sesame oil on it.
If you wouldn't eat it standing up at a roadside stall, don't ship it either.