Taiwan Design Research Institute: The Agency That Sneaks Design into Health Centers and Ballot Papers

Xizhi’s health‑center waiting area now looks hardly like a health center. The fluorescent lights, plastic chairs, and tightly packed medication windows have disappeared, replaced by a set of modular “building‑block” installations—one each for “new‑town,” “new‑city,” and “rural” typologies. New Taipei City Health Bureau spent thirteen months, starting from pilot sites in Xizhi and Yingge¹. You probably didn’t notice it. When you go for a vaccine, blood‑pressure check, or to pick up chronic‑illness medication, the flow is a bit smoother, the wait less irritating, and then you leave.

You also probably didn’t notice the ballot paper in your hand. In the 2024 presidential election, the typeface printed on the ballot was Siyuan Black—an open‑source font derived from Source Han Sans with rounded corners. The candidates’ names were set in Full‑Character Song². Previously, ballots used Biaukai³. Out of more than 19 million voters, few thought, “Why does this ballot look different from before?”

The link between these two unnoticed things is an institution whose full name most people cannot pronounce: the Taiwan Design Research Institute, abbreviated TDRI. Its address is in the Songshan Cultural and Creative Park, the old Japanese‑era tobacco factory⁴. It hosts the Golden Pin Awards each year, runs the Taiwan Design Exhibition that draws hundreds of thousands of visitors, and placed Director Zhang Ji-yi on the board of an international design organization⁵. Yet its most significant bets are placed in corners you never look up at.

30‑second overview: The Taiwan Design Research Institute (TDRI) is a public‑interest foundation under the Ministry of Economic Affairs, upgraded in 2020 from the Taiwan Creative Design Center⁶. Its most visible achievements are the Golden Pin Design Award, the Taiwan Design Exhibition, and a global ranking that reached seventh place⁷; but it stakes its biggest gamble on places you “don’t feel”: health centers, ballot papers, and campus redesigns. This reflects a half‑century trajectory for Taiwan—from an “OEM island” where Made in Taiwan meant “counterfeit” to President Tsai Ing-wen’s claim that “design power is national power”⁸. The 2022 renovation of Zhongshan MRT station happened to illustrate how being seen can be dangerous.

An Island Where Even Your Own Cup Is Designed by Others

To understand why TDRI exists, we must return to the period Taiwan prefers not to remember.

In the 1960s and 1970s, Taiwan relied on OEM (original equipment manufacturing). Foreign brands sent blueprints; Taiwanese factories reproduced them and slapped on foreign labels. In the 1980s and 1990s the model shifted to ODM, where Taiwan not only manufactured but also helped redesign products. Acer’s Stan Shih drew the famous “smiling curve” in 1992, arguing that research & development and branding at the two ends of the value chain were valuable, while assembly in the middle was cheap⁹. After 2000, Taiwan began experimenting with OBM, creating its own brands.

Yet during that era “Made in Taiwan” carried a poor image abroad. A 1994 English article in Taiwan Panorama titled “Remade in Taiwan” reported that an American bike shop displayed a sign reading “We do not repair bikes from Taiwan,” and some exporters simply peeled off the label¹⁰. The American design consultant David Lightle, hired by the Taiwan External Trade Development Council, warned, “Taiwan’s problem does not lie in its reality… The problem lies in its image.”¹⁰

The Trade Development Council established a Product Design Promotion Office in 1979, the earliest seed of a national‑level design team, headed by Cheng Yuan‑jin¹¹. It later became the Design Promotion Center, and in 2003 the Taiwan Creative Design Center (TDC) was formally incorporated as a foundation, with Chang Kuang‑min as its first CEO¹². TDC focused on promotion, exhibitions, and awards.

📝 Curator’s note
The common narrative is that Taiwan “moved from OEM to branding” through private‑sector effort. That is true, but it omits a crucial piece: companies can decide how their products look, but they cannot decide how a ballot paper, a health center, or a subway station looks—that is the government’s domain. TDRI’s real gamble is larger than a better cup: can the island decide even how the government meets its people? The deepest scar left by the OEM era is the habit of outsourcing the very shape of public life to “make‑do.”

In the 2010s, the rhetoric rose to the national level. The 2011 International Design Alliance conference in Taipei, organized by TDC, featured Vice President Hsiao‑wan‑chang declaring “Designed in Taiwan, rather than Made in Taiwan”¹³—a line that predates President Tsai’s.

The Year of Upgrade, the Mission Changes

The real push to elevate “design” to a national strategy came in 2019‑2020.

On 23 October 2019, President Tsai Ing-wen announced the upgrade of the Taiwan Creative Design Center to the Taiwan Design Research Institute. She said, “Taiwan was once known for MIT; the future will have DIT, Designed in Taiwan.”¹⁴ On 30 September 2020, she added in a public speech, “Design power is national power.” Taiwan must not only have Made in Taiwan but also let the world recognize Designed in Taiwan¹⁵. On 5 December 2020, Premier Su Cheng‑chang approved the upgrade¹⁶, and TDRI officially opened in early 2020.

The upgrade was more than a name change. Under the TDC era, the focus was promotion and exhibitions; under the institute era, the government assigned five core functions: establishing design policy, driving industrial design innovation, promoting public‑service innovation, developing social‑design innovation, and advancing international design diplomacy¹⁷. The new keywords—policy, public service, society, diplomacy—point to a single direction: design should no longer serve only manufacturers; it must begin to serve government and citizens.

Taking the baton was Zhang Ji-yi. His background is architecture: a bachelor’s from Tamkang University, a master’s in architecture from Ohio State University, and a Master of Design from Harvard’s Graduate School of Design in 1994¹⁸. He worked at Peter Eisenman’s New York office, ran his own practice, served as professor and department head at National Chiao‑tung University’s Architecture Institute, and was deputy magistrate of Taitung County for over three years¹⁸. He became chairman of TDC in 2018, the first director of TDRI in 2020, and remains in the post today¹⁸.

The Taiwan Design Museum, established in 2011 and operated by TDRI, regularly hosts the Golden Pin Design Exhibition. It serves as a showcase for TDRI’s “visible” side. Photo: Hsuan Shih / Wikimedia Commons, CC0

Zhang explains the difference succinctly. He says TDC “realized value,” whereas the institute “creates value; creation is proactive.”¹⁹ What he seeks is harder than staging exhibitions: “We want design to become the basic DNA of the public sector.”²⁰

Embedding design into the DNA of the public sector sounds smooth, but it is the toughest bone in Taiwan’s public‑governance skeleton.

Inserting Design into Health Centers, Ballot Papers, and Campuses

TDRI’s real battlefields are three places you rarely think about: where you receive medical care, where you vote, and where you study.

Health centers are one. New Taipei City commissioned TDRI, starting from Xizhi and Yingge, to redesign the flow for waiting, medication pickup, and measurement into three modular typologies, aiming to replicate the model across all 29 districts of the city¹. The design team included spatial designers, user‑experience researchers, and consultants¹; you won’t remember the names, but that is the point: good public‑space design should be invisible.

Post‑redesign health‑center space: warm white tones, modular wall panels, age‑friendly arm‑rested seats. Image: Taiwan Design Research Institute (fair‑use editorial commentary).

Schools are another. The Ministry of Education commissioned TDRI to implement the “School Aesthetics” campus‑design program, launching in 2019 with nine pilot schools²¹. The project touches classrooms, corridors, and lockers—spaces used daily by hundreds of students—infusing aesthetic considerations from façade paint to everyday details. TDRI reports more than 112 redesign cases and collaborations with over 200 schools²¹.

The most sensitive arena is elections. The Central Election Commission hired TDRI for “election aesthetics,” spanning four years, three phases, and twelve design items: from referendum bulletins and election bulletins to ballot papers, candidate‑presentation events, the central election‑information center, voting‑site signage, voting notices, privacy screens at the ballot‑counting area, and certificates of election²². The 2021‑12 referendum bulletin used the new design, was mailed to roughly 89.5 million copies, and later won the Golden Pin Award for communication design²². The ballot‑paper font switch to Siyuan Black also occurred within this framework².

Redesigned referendum bulletin by TDRI and the CEC, featuring a multi‑column layout that reduces reading fatigue; the 2022 Golden Pin Award for communication design recognized it. The audience: nearly 20 million Taiwanese voters. Image: Taiwan Design Research Institute (fair‑use editorial commentary).

When discussing election aesthetics, Zhang notes the difficulty: with nearly 19 million voters, redesign must “innovate step by step within existing laws and budget constraints”²³. This sentence captures the biggest limitation of public‑service design: you cannot overhaul a system as you would a commercial project; you must work within decades‑old regulations and budget structures, inch by inch.

💡 Did you know?
The privacy screen at the ballot‑counting area—the board that blocks a voter’s view when stamping—is only demonstrated in one school (Lu‑gong Junior High, Room 804) as part of the election‑aesthetics pilot²². The reason it stopped at a single demo point is that public‑design diffusion often stalls at budgeting and procurement; turning one demo into a national standard requires long‑term persuasion and budgeting. TDRI’s self‑reported online survey showed about 97 % of voters approved the redesign²⁴, but the survey did not disclose sample size or methodology, making it more a signal of support than a rigorous poll.

TDRI later extended this logic to a more foundational level: together with the Ministry of Economic Affairs’ Standards and Metrology Administration, the Ministry of Transportation and Communications, the Ministry of Health and Welfare, and the National Land Survey, it released the national standard “Public Service Icons” CNS16282 in March 2026, defining 253 icons across eight categories under a CC BY 4.0 license²⁵. Restroom, accessibility, and emergency‑exit signs now have a unified, nationally‑specified design language.

Introducing Design into Bureaucracy Is a Persuasion Battle

Putting design into government sounds beneficial, but in practice it is almost a guerrilla war.

The most direct resistance comes from the system itself. TDRI’s own “Taiwan Design Power Report” admits that design “is difficult to incorporate into standardized budget‑evaluation mechanisms”²⁶. In plain terms, public‑sector budgeting requires objective metrics, yet design’s value is hard to quantify with a single number, leaving it perpetually disadvantaged in budget reviews.

Local resistance is more concrete. TDRI promoted the T22 local‑industry revitalization program, starting with Yingge’s ceramics industry²⁷. Zhang recalls an early encounter: the ceramics association chairman retorted, “You’re all just book‑worms!”—implying that design‑trained people know nothing about doing business²⁷. Gaining entry into real‑world industry often stalls at the trust barrier.

⚠️ Controversial view
Introducing design into public services carries an unspoken embarrassment: its impact is hard to prove. A review by Scotland‑based PDR Research on Taiwan’s design policy bluntly states, “Visions are not enough, there have to be tangible metrics and evaluation indicators.” The same review criticizes a design policy that neglects environmental sustainability as “way off the mark”²⁸. Some recent academic papers authored by TDRI staff²⁹ suggest that many arguments for “effective design governance” are internally produced, making independent third‑party assessment difficult.

Sharper criticism reaches back before the upgrade. The art‑media archive ARTouch, discussing TDC’s elevation to an institute, highlighted longstanding doubts: “conflict of interest with the private sector,” unclear organizational hierarchy, and difficulty retaining talent³⁰. “Conflict of interest” refers to a government‑funded body that runs exhibitions, awards, and design services potentially crowding out private design firms; “unclear hierarchy” points to its awkward position between government and civil society. Upgrading to an institute was, in part, an attempt to answer these concerns by shifting the role from “implementation unit” to “policy research.”

Design circles also debate “design as political achievement.” In 2026, a storm centered on TDRI itself. Prominent designer Nie Yong‑chen, through TDRI, handled a series of government‑identity projects, most notably Taipower’s “identity‑system optimization” with a contract value of NT$969,000, which revised the corporate logotype³¹. Critics focused on two issues: whether a loss‑making state‑owned enterprise deserves spending on “just a few font tweaks,” and whether TDRI, as the allocator of government design contracts, turned certain designers into “benefit‑sharing” participants³². The Ministry of Economic Affairs responded, “We trust the institute’s professionalism,” emphasizing that TDRI selected at least three design teams with relevant experience before choosing a partner, and clarified that the Trade Promotion Agency’s identity system was handled by another company, not a single vendor³². This controversy exposed TDRI’s most awkward position: it holds the budget and decision‑making power to “make government look good,” and once that power is visible, it is scrutinized under the harshest magnifying glass.

The Visible Side: Golden Pin, Millions of Visitors, World‑Rank Seventh

After all the invisible work, we must return to TDRI’s most visible side: being seen.

The flagship is the Golden Pin Design Award. Its lineage stretches back to a 1981 product‑quality selection, renamed Golden Pin in 2009, and opened to international entries in 2014³³. The Ministry of Economic Affairs’ Industrial Development Administration sponsors it; TDRI executes the award³³. Scale has indeed grown: the 2023 edition received nearly 8,000 entries from 23 regions, selecting 25 annual‑best designs³⁴.

Another flagship is the Taiwan Design Exhibition, touring different counties and cities each year, turning each host city into a design showcase. Attendance has surged: 4.25 million in Pingtung (2019), 2.8 million in Hsinchu (2020), 6 million in Kaohsiung (2022), and a record 6.58 million in New Taipei (2023)³⁵. For many young people, the autumn exhibition dominates Instagram feeds.

Post‑redesign Zhongshan Station ticketing area, concept “encapsulate service in a box.” This project sparked user‑experience controversy after its 2022 public release, yet won the 2024 Golden Pin Annual Best Design Award. Image: Taiwan Design Research Institute (fair‑use editorial commentary).

International rankings are another metric TDRI cites. In the World Design Rankings, Taiwan climbed from 38th globally in 2013 to 8th in 2019, and reached 7th in 2023‑24³⁶. Zhang Ji‑yi was elected a board member of the World Design Organization (WDO) in 2019 as a TDC representative and re‑elected in 2022³⁷; he describes this as “design diplomacy”: “When these ecosystems mature, they become Taiwan’s experience, which can be exchanged with the world and used for design diplomacy.”³⁸

✦ “We hope design becomes the basic DNA of the public sector.” — Zhang Ji‑yi

Being seen is not wholly negative. An institution funded by government budgets and constantly asked, “What exactly have you done?” needs the Golden Pin, massive visitor numbers, and international rankings to justify its expenditures. Yet visibility also has a flip side.

Zhongshan Station: Seen, Then Bitten Back

In 2021, TDRI launched the redesign of Taipei MRT’s Zhongshan Station, publicly unveiling the first phase—mainly the ticketing area—on 19 October 2022³⁹. Spatial, visual, and product design were handled by different teams; the proposal later won the 2024 Golden Pin Annual Best Design Award in the integrated‑design category⁴⁰.

From an awards perspective, it is a success. From the station’s perspective, it became TDRI’s most public “getting‑hit” moment.

After the public release, a flood of negative comments appeared online. A compilation by CTS included remarks such as “Well done, don’t do it again,” “Are you designing the station or the passengers?” and “UI redesign, but UX unchanged?”⁴¹ Criticism focused on user experience: ticket‑machine height did not adequately consider wheelchair users or children; the visual upgrade did not improve operational ergonomics⁴¹. TDRI responded, “Optimization is ongoing; we will continue to adjust with co‑creation partners”⁴¹; according to TDRI, later adjustments addressed details like route‑map height³⁹.

📝 Curator’s note
The Zhongshan case condenses the article’s tension into a single ticketing area. Health‑center, ballot‑paper, and campus projects escaped criticism partly because they are unobtrusive—you don’t notice they have been designed, so you don’t nitpick. Zhongshan is different: it is a downtown station traversed by tens of thousands daily, loudly announcing “We have redesigned this.” Once you invite public scrutiny, the most exacting eyes are applied. Being seen is TDRI’s survival strategy, but being seen also makes it the easiest target. A poorly placed medication window at a health center goes unnoticed; a redesigned ticket machine at a metro station draws nationwide commentary.

This is TDRI’s deepest dilemma. It must be visible to survive—without the Golden Pin, exhibitions, or rankings, it cannot secure budget. Yet its proudest work is precisely what should remain invisible: when a health center, a ballot paper, or a classroom is designed well enough that you feel nothing, you use it seamlessly and move on. Visibility earns it a reason to exist; the absence of feeling is its true proof of success. These two forces forever pull in opposite directions.

When You Don’t Notice Them

Return to the Xizhi health center.

Next time you measure blood pressure or pick up chronic‑illness medication, you may still not notice the redesigned waiting area. You will think the flow should be this way, the chairs should be arranged like that, the signage should be clear. You won’t consider that thirteen months of work transformed it from “make‑do” to “handy.”

That is exactly the state TDRI strives for but rarely receives applause for. A good public‑service design ultimately disappears into a seamless experience; if you don’t feel it, it succeeded. From “Made in Taiwan equals counterfeit” to “Designed in Taiwan,” the island spent half a century learning to decide what things look like. The hardest step is learning to do so without making you think about it.

The font on your ballot paper is Siyuan Black. You probably didn’t even know that until now. And that, essentially, is the point.

Further Reading

• Nie Yong‑chen — One of Taiwan’s most representative graphic designers, central figure in the Taipower identity controversy, and an unavoidable name in the “design as political achievement” debate.
• Taiwan’s Industrial Transformation — The story of Taiwan’s shift from an OEM island to higher‑value‑added industries; the design institute’s gamble on “what things look like” is a less‑discussed thread of that narrative.
• Public Television — Another public‑interest foundation navigating the tightrope between “publicness” and “scrutiny.”
• Taiwan Architecture — Zhang Ji‑yi’s professional field, helping explain why an architect believes spatial design can reshape the relationship between government and citizens.

Image Sources

All images in this article are cached locally under public/article-images/society/; no hot‑linking to external servers.

CC / Public Domain (illustrative images)

• Entrance to Songshan Cultural and Creative Park (hero) — Solomon203, CC BY‑SA 4.0, Wikimedia Commons.
• Taiwan Design Museum — Hsuan Shih, CC0 Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons.

Fair‑use editorial commentary (TDRI project documentation)

The following three images are TDRI‑released project documentation, used under U.S. copyright law § 107 fair‑use criteria (non‑commercial, educational, published, limited proportion, no market substitution).

• Redesigned health‑center space — © Taiwan Design Research Institute (Health‑Center Redesign). Fair‑use editorial commentary on TDRI’s work.
• Election‑aesthetics referendum bulletin redesign — © Taiwan Design Research Institute, provided via ETtoday report. Fair‑use editorial commentary on TDRI’s work.
• Zhongshan MRT station ticketing area redesign — © Taiwan Design Research Institute (Zhongshan Station Redesign). Fair‑use editorial commentary on TDRI’s work.

References