Born in 1995 in Taichung, Yin-chen Li is currently based in Taipei. Her practice blends ceramic and painterly expressions to explore the fluid relationships between perception, psyche, and material. With a foundation in academic art training, she later studied at Taipei National University of the Arts and Kyoto City University of Arts, where she developed a process combining gestural mark-making with the unpredictable nature of ceramic firing. 

Her works embrace fracture, dislocation, and fusion, reflecting the ambiguity and instability of both interpersonal and internal states, inviting viewers to project their own experiences onto the traces left behind.

Can you tell us about your background and how you started your artistic journey?

I’ve enjoyed drawing since I was a child and began attending art classes around the age of eight. From junior high through high school, I was enrolled in art programs where I received foundational training in various mediums, including sketching, ink painting, watercolor, and oil painting.

In college, I entered the Department of Fine Arts at Taipei National University of the Arts, where I was exposed to a broader range of materials and creative approaches. My graduation work was a participatory spatial installation integrated with a tea ceremony. It featured a teapot with multiple spouts and a series of interconnected teacups joined by tubes—tea could only be successfully drunk when participants collaborated with one another. Through the unusual design of the teaware, I aimed to highlight the subtle and uncertain dynamics of human interaction, which also sparked my ongoing exploration into the expressive potential of ceramics.

I then pursued a master’s degree in ceramics at Kyoto City University of Arts, where I further developed my research into the material properties of clay. During this time, I began experimenting with painterly techniques using slurry—a smooth, fluid mixture of clay and glaze—and became fascinated by the tension between control and unpredictability during the firing process.

While on an exchange program at the Royal College of Art in the UK, I began exploring automatic drawing. After returning to Japan, I continued to develop this interest by integrating the spontaneity of drawing with ceramic materials. Over time, my work has come to focus on capturing and expressing the fluid states between perception, the mind, materiality, and relationships.

How do you stay inspired and motivated to create new work?

For me, inspiration often arises from the material itself. The plasticity and unpredictability of ceramics constantly trigger my curiosity about its expressive potential and make me wonder what the material might “say” in different states.

I’m always thinking of small-scale material experiments—observing the visual effects and textures resulting from both anticipated and unanticipated firing outcomes often sparks new directions in my work.

At the same time, I often begin with automatic drawing, allowing my gestures and brushstrokes to move freely across the material. Through this process, new questions naturally emerge from the interaction between image and perception, leading me to the next experiment or idea.

How do the materials you use shape the meaning or emotional impact of your work?

My recent work is a continuous exploration of the relationships among perception, material, and imagery, gradually developing a practice that combines automatic painting with ceramic techniques.

Elements such as shrinkage, tension, and displacement during the firing process become crucial components of the work. These create unexpected interweaving, misalignments, and ruptures within the visual field—echoes of relational dynamics.

On the other hand, working with ceramics in a liquid state responds to the fluid nature of perception and allows for a more intuitive interaction between gesture and material. This playful and open-ended process has become a major source of motivation in my practice.

The inherent unpredictability of the material imbues the work with emotional tension—a sense of “uncertainty”—which resonates with my feelings toward the ambiguous, shifting, and often inexpressible aspects of both inner states and interpersonal relationships. Traces of cracks, displacements, and fusions in the work often become entry points for viewers to project their own emotions and experiences.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being creative in your experience?

For me, the most rewarding aspect of making art is finding a way to ground and situate myself through the process. When I focus on the motion of a brushstroke, the layering of colors, or the response between material and visual form, I begin to realize that not all thinking needs to happen through language—often, feelings are understood through visual and bodily experiences. This awareness has gradually transformed into a way of seeing the world, and it has become an important means of connecting with myself.

What challenges have you faced as an artist, and how have you overcome them?

For me, each step—from creating a work to safely delivering it to an exhibition space— presents a series of challenges.

I try to make ceramics function like brushstrokes, which requires anticipating the distribution and structure of the material during the shaping process, as well as its fluidity and transformation during firing—factors that are difficult to fully control. Much of my imagery emerges organically through a rhythm of perception and hand movement, which brings a great deal of uncertainty to the creative process.

As a result, many of my works are extremely delicate and fragile. Even though I put a lot of effort into protection and packaging—using multiple layers of cushioning materials and custom support structures—there have still been instances where works were damaged during transportation.

Figuring out how to let these pieces exist securely and be seen—while embracing their inherent vulnerabilities—is an ongoing challenge I continue to face. These difficulties have, in turn, deepened my reflections on how artworks are viewed, held, and supported in space.

What advice would you give to emerging artists trying to establish themselves?

Keep doing the things that truly interest you and resonate with you. Pay attention to which materials you feel especially sensitive to, and try to follow that intuition as much as possible. 

To me, creating art isn’t about expressing a fixed stance—it’s about exploring a way of relating to the world. Style isn’t something that needs to be defined from the start; it often emerges naturally through long-term interaction with materials and forms.

Text & photo courtesy of Yin-chen Li

Website: https://www.yinchenli.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/yinchenli_/