
Earth, wind and iron: how Yola Johnson's unique design philosophy comes to life in her Manila home
Taste, for Johnson, is as much a function of nurture. 'Taste begins in your mother's womb, as it is instinctive,' she says, continuing to describe an inexplicable factor. 'One's acumen to be able to recognise that which is essential or important or artistic is a big word. It doesn't seem to mean anything, but the artistic element is something undefined you cannot cage it. It is something that you either just know or do not know.'
She narrates that as a child in Santa Ana, Manila, she often found herself lost in nature. 'They would find me on top of a tree, climbing it. I liked to disappear, and they would find me in fields; there was a wildness [in me]. I liked discovering things myself.' Later, her work's anthropological approach would point to these childhood predilections. She affirms, 'If you study where Philippine design originated, you have to go to the tribes from north to south. We are an amalgam of different cultures and influences—to the Malay from the Chinese, the Spanish and the Americans.'
This exposure to different tribes and groups manifests in the choice of materials in Johnson's designs. There is an indigenous quality to the furniture she designs and produces, as if the pieces grew from the ground they now stand on. Early in her career, Johnson found herself gravitating towards fibres and weaves. 'The fibres of our country are the most abundant in the world,' she declares. 'We have thousands of fibres, including the abaca, which is the longest and the strongest fibre in the world!'
Subsequently, when asked what she believes is essentially Filipino in her home, she immediately asserts, 'My favourite thing at home is my binding weave. Every time I see it in the morning, I feel inspired to keep going and to keep doing what I do.' Johnson's binding weave is a very basic, simple weave which she internationally patented. She has dedicated her life to championing and protecting the intellectual property of this weave, which was born of a desire to find 'something that will maximise the potential of the abaca'. Air sign
Above The private living room with a melange of furniture playing with proportion and asymmetry in Yola Johnson's home
Where, as a child, Johnson would be lost in the trees, as an adult she finds herself on top of one of the Philippines' most beautifully designed skyscrapers, occupying an entire floor. The ceilings of Johnson's city flat are spectacularly well-proportioned. 'This home and my Canlubang house both have ceilings. Even my Mindoro house has high ceilings. I need Iots of height, I'm a Gemini and it's an air sign,' she explains.
Art is everywhere in this home. This comes as no surprise since Johnson is a protege of Roberto Chabet, widely regarded as the father of Conceptual Art in the Philippines. The furniture in the home exudes a tactile sculptural quality, managing both an air of independence and total cohesion. This is evident in opposing materials and forms placed closely together; for instance, a modern rounded metallic armchair swirls next to a linear wooden antique chair.
Overall, the home displays a deep understanding of restraint. The decor is punctuated by a rigorous functionality; in some areas, there is a monastic placement of pieces. There is a gentleness in the manner of the decor, colours from pigment and patina are deep and developed. Light streams from large windows all around the home, dressed in voluminous billowing abaca curtains in their natural beige tone. The textile is both soft and structured, resonating with the rest of the home. The furniture in the home playfully employs proportion in a way that evokes feeling, a skill at which Johnson is adept.
In case you missed it: Home tour: Discovering the comfort and character of Kate Sbuttoni's sanctuary in Somerset, England
Photo 1 of 4 Melted candles add charm to this traditional chandelier in Yola Johnson's home
Photo 2 of 4 Trinkets collected from Yola Johnson's travels
Photo 3 of 4 Exploring the unique details of Yola Johnson's home
Photo 4 of 4 A glazed bowl in Yola Johnson's home
As a reassurance or a fair warning to the entrants to the home of her anthropological interests, a map called Back to the Drawing Board (Filipinas) by Juan Alcazaren is the welcoming site at the foyer. An etching of the Philippine map is on the board, albeit with place names spelled backwards. It is in a concrete fibre board material, with steel and an LED lamp. The home has two sitting rooms, both lined by Johnson's binding weave rugs. The first is for entertaining guests where two sofas—one, smaller sculpted wood and the other, a significantly larger one upholstered with soft cloud-like white linen—diagonally face one another.
Behind the white sofa, is an unusual 15-ft-long wooden Filipino bangko or bench which needs an extra pillar in the centre to help prop it up so it does not snap. Painted in a light eggshell beige, the colours of the walls change with the time of day. In a corner, a chaise lounge covered in chocolate leather is beside an oversized floor lamp forming the boundaries of the sitting room. At its centre, a large burl and copper coffee table contrasts with the wooden armchair in the corner. A large artwork by Nilo Illarde called Wall Interventions 1, 2, and 4 is embedded on the wall. The work itself displays materials whose diversity seem to agree in a unified display of material honesty. Nothing ever pretends to be anything other than what it is made of—wood, metal, paper, fibre and glass.
Above The four black paintings on the walls are part of Yola Johnson's early works
Above Proportion at play in this guest room, with an oversized table lamp
Above Exploring the unique details of Yola Johnson's home
The second sitting room is in a similar colour to the first, reaffirming Johnson's consistency. A more intimate space filled with personal mementos such as books and children's furniture, it displays things of sentiment. The placement of children's furniture alongside full-sized pieces is again a play on proportion. An offshoot of this sitting room is a den covered in the deepest indigo. Sumptuous fabrics wrap the couch and throw pillows.
The two sitting rooms are cohesive and contrasting, similar but at once so different. Across the first sitting room is the dining area where a sizable metallic chandelier hangs above two wooden rectangular tables, placed together to form a square. The central light fixture designed by Johnson is visually impressive, a tornado of metallic winged bulbs suggestive of birds, yet whose primary shape, the bulb, is closer in shape to that of an egg. Its scale is so immense it could have dwarfed everything surrounding it. Yet, it acts almost as an umbrella that covers everything with its light.
One notable bedroom is bathed in a decidedly blushed pink hue in its walls and ceilings, trimmed in a darker variation of the shade. A traditional European-style crystal chandelier in a mix of clear crystal and deep pink accents hangs above, providing a contrast to the more organically shaped bed, which has been upholstered in a classic toile. Forged by nature
Above Yola Johnson's bedroom in pink hues is complemented by a red ceiling
Johnson's home serves as a masterclass in elegance and simplicity. The notion that our planet is an abundant, beautiful one is a message that the flat seems to deliver effortlessly. The purity of the materials serves as a reminder of how important it is to take care of our surroundings. When asked about how best to choose things for one's home, her response is undoubtedly meditative: 'You look at the object and you fall in love with that object. When you bring it to your home, that object will find its place in your space.'
She continues, 'I just put it on the floor and then live with it for days, weeks or months. Maybe then that object will eventually tell you where to be positioned. For me, that's the way to do your interiors. You do not look for the object that you will put inside a certain space. The object will tell you where it will go.' Johnson ends our conversation with an anecdote, 'Somebody approached me and asked, ''You haven't done your art for so long. You haven't done any exhibition or anything. Why don't you go back to your art?'' Johnson laughs at how absurd she believes the question to be. She continues, 'My art? I never left it. What I'm doing is my art.'
NOW READ
5 iconic hotels in film: Where architecture becomes the star
Ode to Earth: Inside the family farmhouse of the architect Gelo Mañosa in Calatagan
Home tour: A Parisian apartment blending 18th-century grandeur with curated antiques
Credits
Photography: Kevin Vicencio

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Tatler Asia
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Earth, wind and iron: how Yola Johnson's unique design philosophy comes to life in her Manila home
Taste, for Johnson, is as much a function of nurture. 'Taste begins in your mother's womb, as it is instinctive,' she says, continuing to describe an inexplicable factor. 'One's acumen to be able to recognise that which is essential or important or artistic is a big word. It doesn't seem to mean anything, but the artistic element is something undefined you cannot cage it. It is something that you either just know or do not know.' She narrates that as a child in Santa Ana, Manila, she often found herself lost in nature. 'They would find me on top of a tree, climbing it. I liked to disappear, and they would find me in fields; there was a wildness [in me]. I liked discovering things myself.' Later, her work's anthropological approach would point to these childhood predilections. She affirms, 'If you study where Philippine design originated, you have to go to the tribes from north to south. We are an amalgam of different cultures and influences—to the Malay from the Chinese, the Spanish and the Americans.' This exposure to different tribes and groups manifests in the choice of materials in Johnson's designs. There is an indigenous quality to the furniture she designs and produces, as if the pieces grew from the ground they now stand on. Early in her career, Johnson found herself gravitating towards fibres and weaves. 'The fibres of our country are the most abundant in the world,' she declares. 'We have thousands of fibres, including the abaca, which is the longest and the strongest fibre in the world!' Subsequently, when asked what she believes is essentially Filipino in her home, she immediately asserts, 'My favourite thing at home is my binding weave. Every time I see it in the morning, I feel inspired to keep going and to keep doing what I do.' Johnson's binding weave is a very basic, simple weave which she internationally patented. She has dedicated her life to championing and protecting the intellectual property of this weave, which was born of a desire to find 'something that will maximise the potential of the abaca'. Air sign Above The private living room with a melange of furniture playing with proportion and asymmetry in Yola Johnson's home Where, as a child, Johnson would be lost in the trees, as an adult she finds herself on top of one of the Philippines' most beautifully designed skyscrapers, occupying an entire floor. The ceilings of Johnson's city flat are spectacularly well-proportioned. 'This home and my Canlubang house both have ceilings. Even my Mindoro house has high ceilings. I need Iots of height, I'm a Gemini and it's an air sign,' she explains. Art is everywhere in this home. This comes as no surprise since Johnson is a protege of Roberto Chabet, widely regarded as the father of Conceptual Art in the Philippines. The furniture in the home exudes a tactile sculptural quality, managing both an air of independence and total cohesion. This is evident in opposing materials and forms placed closely together; for instance, a modern rounded metallic armchair swirls next to a linear wooden antique chair. Overall, the home displays a deep understanding of restraint. The decor is punctuated by a rigorous functionality; in some areas, there is a monastic placement of pieces. There is a gentleness in the manner of the decor, colours from pigment and patina are deep and developed. Light streams from large windows all around the home, dressed in voluminous billowing abaca curtains in their natural beige tone. The textile is both soft and structured, resonating with the rest of the home. The furniture in the home playfully employs proportion in a way that evokes feeling, a skill at which Johnson is adept. In case you missed it: Home tour: Discovering the comfort and character of Kate Sbuttoni's sanctuary in Somerset, England Photo 1 of 4 Melted candles add charm to this traditional chandelier in Yola Johnson's home Photo 2 of 4 Trinkets collected from Yola Johnson's travels Photo 3 of 4 Exploring the unique details of Yola Johnson's home Photo 4 of 4 A glazed bowl in Yola Johnson's home As a reassurance or a fair warning to the entrants to the home of her anthropological interests, a map called Back to the Drawing Board (Filipinas) by Juan Alcazaren is the welcoming site at the foyer. An etching of the Philippine map is on the board, albeit with place names spelled backwards. It is in a concrete fibre board material, with steel and an LED lamp. The home has two sitting rooms, both lined by Johnson's binding weave rugs. The first is for entertaining guests where two sofas—one, smaller sculpted wood and the other, a significantly larger one upholstered with soft cloud-like white linen—diagonally face one another. Behind the white sofa, is an unusual 15-ft-long wooden Filipino bangko or bench which needs an extra pillar in the centre to help prop it up so it does not snap. Painted in a light eggshell beige, the colours of the walls change with the time of day. In a corner, a chaise lounge covered in chocolate leather is beside an oversized floor lamp forming the boundaries of the sitting room. At its centre, a large burl and copper coffee table contrasts with the wooden armchair in the corner. A large artwork by Nilo Illarde called Wall Interventions 1, 2, and 4 is embedded on the wall. The work itself displays materials whose diversity seem to agree in a unified display of material honesty. Nothing ever pretends to be anything other than what it is made of—wood, metal, paper, fibre and glass. Above The four black paintings on the walls are part of Yola Johnson's early works Above Proportion at play in this guest room, with an oversized table lamp Above Exploring the unique details of Yola Johnson's home The second sitting room is in a similar colour to the first, reaffirming Johnson's consistency. A more intimate space filled with personal mementos such as books and children's furniture, it displays things of sentiment. The placement of children's furniture alongside full-sized pieces is again a play on proportion. An offshoot of this sitting room is a den covered in the deepest indigo. Sumptuous fabrics wrap the couch and throw pillows. The two sitting rooms are cohesive and contrasting, similar but at once so different. Across the first sitting room is the dining area where a sizable metallic chandelier hangs above two wooden rectangular tables, placed together to form a square. The central light fixture designed by Johnson is visually impressive, a tornado of metallic winged bulbs suggestive of birds, yet whose primary shape, the bulb, is closer in shape to that of an egg. Its scale is so immense it could have dwarfed everything surrounding it. Yet, it acts almost as an umbrella that covers everything with its light. One notable bedroom is bathed in a decidedly blushed pink hue in its walls and ceilings, trimmed in a darker variation of the shade. A traditional European-style crystal chandelier in a mix of clear crystal and deep pink accents hangs above, providing a contrast to the more organically shaped bed, which has been upholstered in a classic toile. Forged by nature Above Yola Johnson's bedroom in pink hues is complemented by a red ceiling Johnson's home serves as a masterclass in elegance and simplicity. The notion that our planet is an abundant, beautiful one is a message that the flat seems to deliver effortlessly. The purity of the materials serves as a reminder of how important it is to take care of our surroundings. When asked about how best to choose things for one's home, her response is undoubtedly meditative: 'You look at the object and you fall in love with that object. When you bring it to your home, that object will find its place in your space.' She continues, 'I just put it on the floor and then live with it for days, weeks or months. Maybe then that object will eventually tell you where to be positioned. For me, that's the way to do your interiors. You do not look for the object that you will put inside a certain space. The object will tell you where it will go.' Johnson ends our conversation with an anecdote, 'Somebody approached me and asked, ''You haven't done your art for so long. You haven't done any exhibition or anything. Why don't you go back to your art?'' Johnson laughs at how absurd she believes the question to be. She continues, 'My art? I never left it. What I'm doing is my art.' NOW READ 5 iconic hotels in film: Where architecture becomes the star Ode to Earth: Inside the family farmhouse of the architect Gelo Mañosa in Calatagan Home tour: A Parisian apartment blending 18th-century grandeur with curated antiques Credits Photography: Kevin Vicencio


Tatler Asia
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Above Traditional noodle making in Fujian province is still practised today in China Like many culinary innovations, the alkaline noodles boast a lineage stretching back millennia. Early Chinese noodle artisans discovered that water from certain mineral-rich lakes produced exceptional results. When these lakes eventually dried up, the alkaline residue left behind became a treasured ingredient. Other regions, particularly Gansu province in China, turned to plant ash derived from burned vegetation, commonly known as peng hui , to achieve similar effects with hand-pulled lamian. With the great Chinese migration, this ancient technique moved southwards, embedding itself in the food cultures of Hong Kong, Singapore, and Malaysia, evolving into distinct regional expressions. Think Hong Kong's defiantly thin yet elastic wanton noodles; Singapore and Malaysia's ubiquitous yellow noodles, the backbone of countless hawker classics, from the ultra-savoury Singapore Hokkien mee to the dark, caramelised KL Hokkien char mee. The general use of plant ash was also observed in Taiwan until 1989, when commercially produced alkaline salts were invented for greater consistency. Above A pull of wanton mee featured in a classic Hong Kong noodle soup So why are the textural benefits of alkalinity universally celebrated, but the flavour itself remains divisive? We dive deeper into the delicious paradox. In Hong Kong, the alkaline note is more implicitly accepted of the wanton noodles, where texture is prized above all. The same with ramen in Japan, where alkaline is widely accepted as fundamental to the noodle's identity. While most manufacturers substitute chicken eggs to save cost, the best ones are still made traditionally with duck eggs, combining salt and kansui directly without added water for that inimitable texture. In case you missed it: The best hokkien mee in Singapore, according to local chefs Above Singapore's ubiquitous plate of ultra-savoury Hokkien mee is a hawker classic Conversely, in Singapore and Malaysia, the alkaline flavour is often labelled as 'kee', derived from the Hokkien dialect in Southeast Asia, and is often met with furrowed brows. Most recipes explicitly instruct cooks to blanch the noodles to reduce the alkaline characteristic. Some modern manufacturers, like homegrown LG Foods, even offer low-alkaline versions of yellow noodles to appease sensitive palates. Yet without alkalinity, these noodles are without their iconic texture, and would quickly submit to a soggy mess in their respective broths and sauces. It is this very agent that creates a flavour controversy that also promises superior structural integrity to our favourite dishes. Above Malaysia's dark and caramelised KL Hokkien char mee uses a thicker alkaline noodle typically called dai lok mee Perhaps the alkaline note suffers most from is linguistic limitation. While we have a range of vocabulary for sweetness, bitterness, umami, and even al dente pasta, the English language offers us primarily negative descriptors such as soapy, bitter, or pungent when describing alkalinity. But experienced noodle masters and connoisseurs understand that when properly balanced, this note becomes not a flaw but a mark of quality, one that subtly elevates and differentiates between one-dimensional noodles and a storied one with character and depth. Above Experienced noodle masters and connoisseurs understand that when properly balanced, the alkaline note becomes not a flaw but a mark of quality So, is the alkaline taste in noodles good or bad? Ultimately, while the textural benefits conferred by alkaline treatment remain central to the appeal and identity of iconic noodles in Hong Kong, Singapore, and Malaysia, the associated taste is viewed with more ambivalence; desired by traditionalists yet perceived to be a flaw by contemporary tastebuds. Taking sides with the former, this writer still looks out for this acquired but essential flavour that, despite its divisive reception, weaves both chemistry and history to reflect authenticity. The next time you wolf down a steaming bowl of wanton mee in Hong Kong or a ravishing plate of Hokkien mee in Singapore, pay close attention to that whisper of something unusual beneath the punchy seasonings and rich sauces. You're now tasting the phantom note, one that time almost forgot. Credits