The Lonely Man & The Art of BAO

It began with a Lonely Man. He wore an oversized suit, sat on a lonely step, under a lonely cheese plant, and contemplated a lonely life. A sad image, some might say. Inspired by the Asian salaryman, Erchen Chang conceived the Lonely Man as part of her degree show at the Slade School of Fine Art. The drawing formed part of a larger, performative piece, Rules to be a Lonely Man, in which the Lonely Man goes to a river in search of solitude, the meaning of life, and to weep. But with three other lonely men at the river with the same idea, he can’t even do that. An ironic kick in the teeth, care of the universe.

Erchen, the creative director and co-founder of BAO, understands that fine line between comedy and grief. That ultimately, there is much humour – and fulfilment – to be found in loneliness. And the Lonely Man, slightly evolved, has been a north star ever since Erchen co-founded BAO in 2012 with Shing Tat Chung (her husband and CEO), and his sister, Wai Ting Chung. There’s an emotional wryness at play; picture sake made from the Lonely Man’s tears. Or Call Suzy, a pop-up takeaway launched over the COVID lockdown, where Suzy is actually the Lonely Man in drag.

“When Erchen came to London, British humour was not her thing,” Shing tells me one recent morning in their Kings Cross restaurant and HQ. “She’d be like, ‘I don’t get this joke.’”

“Now I’m in a very dark place,” jokes Erchen. Her laughter is infectious. “I feel like I take things seriously, but at the same time, I don’t want to take things seriously. When things get stressful, I want to go clubbing.”

It’s been 13 years since Erchen, Shing and Wai Ting dreamt up the idea of BAO, travelling around Taiwan. What started as a pop-up serving a who’s who of the London food scene in Hackney’s Pacific Social Club, is now a group of seven restaurants with a cult following. The food offering has broadened beyond their signature pork bao, each of their restaurants an interpretation of a different aspect of Asian eating culture. The latest, which opened in the City last year, is a Taiwanese whiskey and karaoke bar, an homage to the neon-drenched Taiwan of the 1990s in which Erchen grew up.

We see less of the co-founders than we once did. With growth comes a team, and the ability to step back and out of the kitchen. Erchen and Shing now focus a good deal of their attention on their three-year-old son Cash, through whom a new perspective has been gained. Having a child gives life a new context, Shing tells me. More specifically, that there is life beyond business. Three-year-olds, I say, are notoriously picky eaters. “He just eats everything,” says Shing. “He’s eating curry now.”

Erchen tells me the biggest change is the lack of freedom. Before Cash, she would think about going to an exhibition, but miss it because she waited too long. Now, “if there are interesting things happening, I’m there,” she says. She enthuses about discovering Monica Bonvicini’s work at a show titled Hardcore a couple of years ago: “It’s bold and confrontational, yet laced with humour and irony. I love it. I want that belt carpet in my bedroom.” Recently, she went to get her face cast by a sculptor friend. The week after we meet, she’s making a video with her friends at Completed works. “I’m hoping to bring my alter ego with me.”

“You’re more exciting,” laughs Shing. “I actually enjoy working, so when I have time, I just keep working. Researching, reading, developing ideas, thinking.”

“Shing can work all the time,” says Erchen.

“I enjoy building things, seeing things grow,” says Shing.

Erchen and Shing met while they were studying fine art at Slade. Shing would go on to earn a master’s in design interaction at the Royal College of Art, while Wai Ting has a background in clothing design and technology. Although BAO is a business of food, everything, Shing tells me, is interpreted using an artist’s perspective. And innovation, a core part of BAO’s DNA, is intrinsically linked to the trio’s identity as artists.

“We’re not chefs. We just want the products we want,” says Shing. BAO, from the start, was not constrained by tradition or the baggage of classically-trained chefs – only dough of the utmost quality. In the end, BAO has redefined what gua bao can be, its influence evident in the proliferation of bao on the menus of street food stalls and big chain restaurants alike.

Shing takes his iPhone out of his pocket and leans forward. It’s the most animated he’s been during our conversation. On the screen, I see a pixelated image of a man in the retro gaming style that BAO has become synonymous with, thanks to digital artist Marcelo Colmenero. I wonder whether I love it so much because it reminds me of playing Sim City 2000 as a kid. The man is Dave, general manager of BAO Battersea, Shing tells me. More precisely, it’s a work-in-progress AI version of Dave, whom customers can talk with – a new way for BAO to interact with its audience. Shing types: What do you do in your free time? Dave replies: I like to relax at home with a whiskey. “We can build on that,” says Shing, “make it a bit more niche.”

There’s a real intention behind BAO. Its award-winning rewards app, BAOverse, is a perfect microcosm of what the co-founders have created: a fully-realised, idiosyncratic world, every detail considered, which characters can explore. Is BAO, I ask, one giant artwork?

“It is a huge artwork, but I would say it’s not the only artwork,” says Erchen. “Someone who went to Slade with me said that every time she comes to BAO, it’s like entering my world.”

I think back to the Lonely Man, and how this entire, real world has been spun out of this unlikely, tragicomic character. Really, BAO is the continuing story of that character and his emotions. That part of Erchen, Shing and Wai Ting, the part that feels compelled to tell stories, is what makes BAO such a refreshing proposition. And there’s something useful in their desire to excavate life’s truths with both seriousness and wit, their willingness to be unashamedly human in a decidedly corporate environment. One might say there is a Lonely Man in all of us. If we want to move through life with lightness and playfulness, we might do well to take his lead.