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In a narrow and cluttered shop, Lee Chui-Lan, 68,  leans over a table piled with materials and brushes, stapling sheets of shiny metallic paper together to make flowers. Surrounded by yellowed photos on the peeled wall, she works in a cramped storefront where vivid handmade peacocks hang from the ceiling. The inconspicuous flower plaque shop is called Lee Yim Kee, located in Shap Pat Heung, Yuen Long District. Lee, the owner of Lee Yim Kee, inherited the store and the craft from her father Lee Gam-Yim, who set up the shop the year his daughter was born. She started helping out in the shop in her early teens and experienced the most prosperous years of the flower plaque-making business.  In the 1970s, giant flower plaques on display around  Hong Kong were common. Nowadays, they can only be found in the New Territories and walled villages. Hong Kong has 480 Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH) items, and traditional flower plaques craft is one of them. With limited government support, the craftsmen struggle to survive in a rapidly changing society.  Flower plaques are huge colourful displays, mainly made of bamboo, fabric and paper. Most are meant for  celebrations or announcements of festive events such as the opening of new stores, weddings and birthdays. Back in the days when there was no internet to  disseminate information, flower plaques were useful in spreading messages. “When a family or company held an event, people passing by would know about it quickly by looking at the flower plaques,” said Lee. The process of making flower plaques involves writing messages, making paper flowers, crafting the structure and assembling the different parts. Over time, various crafting techniques developed. For instance, messages that used to be assembled with cotton eventually changed to paint. “Sometimes, we will use the computer to …

For the last 13 years, Kylie Hung Ka-yi, a 30-something local cartoonist known as Lobintan, has been drawing about her life as a wife, mom and cat owner. She has published 20 comic books, and though she doesn’t specialise in political cartoons, her content sometimes involves social topics, such as the Olympic Games and 1989 Tiananmen Square protest.  Hung said she worries about her career as press freedom in Hong Kong diminishes.  “In the past, I never have felt the future would be inky, but now I feel it is unlighted, sometimes I have fears,” said Hung. “I have no idea when I will cross the line. I have to be as careful as possible.” Hung is one of a handful of cartoonists in the city who worry about the political red line especially when two political cartoonists received police complaints for their artworks, a blow to an industry already struggling with declining sales.  Justin Wong Chiu-tat, an editorial cartoonist and  a former assistant professor of visual arts at Hong Kong Baptist University, who previously drew a daily political comic strip column named “Gei Gei Gaak Gaak”, which means chicken chirping sounds in Chinese, for 14 years in Ming Pao.  Wong first time ever received a letter from Hong Kong Police expressing “strong dissatisfaction” and “concerns over unreasonable allegations” in one of Wong’s comics satirising youth police group Junior Police Call in September 2021.   Wong later apologised for being unfair and admitted its inappropriateness, saying he respected the contributions made by the Junior Police Call, according to RTHK.  In late October, veteran political cartoonist Zunzi received police complaints saying his Ming Pao cartoon on the government's recruiting talents policy was “misleading”. “I don’t think there are many political cartoonists left in Hong Kong after the introduction of the National Security …