Fan Huaxiao was born in Hebei Province in 1999 and graduated from Shandong University with a bachelor’s degree in 2021.Graduated with a master’s degree from Tianjin Academy of Fine Arts in 2024, currently working and studying in Tianjin.

Fan’s exhibitions include the solo exhibition “A haven of tenderness” at BLANK gallery, Shanghai (2025), and the group exhibitions “Memory” at BLANK gallery, Shanghai (2024), “Touchable Fiction” at Click Ten, Beijing (2024), “Primordial Dream” at BLANK gallery, Tokyo (2023), “Unrest and Keeping Afloat” at Cheng Center for Contemporary, Beijing (2023), “Clayiness Blaze” at Hunsand Space, Hangzhou (2023), and “Land space Painting” at Hunsand Space, Shijiazhuang (2022).

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

Since childhood, I have harbored a profound interest in painting, though initially, it was not pursued through formal education but rather as a casual pastime to alleviate boredom. Due to my parents’ demanding work schedules, I was often placed in a childcare facility after school, where I was exposed to a variety of visually stimulating works, including pirated DVDs and obscure comics, alongside older children. Influenced by European, American, and Japanese animation and film, I began to sketch intriguing elements from these works, often indulging in spontaneous doodling—even during class. This early engagement with art has ingrained a muscle memory that persists to this day. It wasn’t until university that I encountered several visionary professors who provided pivotal artistic insights and broadened my perspective, solidifying my commitment to pursuing art.

What are the main themes or concepts you explore in your work?

Certain motifs draw inspiration from 16th- and 17th-century Dutch still lifes, particularly their depictions of decaying food and dilapidated scenes, as well as from mystical-themed films and television works. These elements carry a moral message about the emptiness of reality and serve as a warning about its inevitable decay. While this may sound grandiose, careful reflection reveals that nothing truly endures—fragility is the norm of existence.In our social activities,even time manifests only in phases.We cannot avoid the ultimate state of the surrounding things and certain relationships, including ourselves.

In my work, I aim to focus on“Using the integrity of the process to counter the void of existence”，That is, when contemplating the limitations of existence, the subject of the thing will give meaning to existence through creation, experience and connection.During this period, a desire for confrontation inevitably arises between subject and object. It is precisely this desire that weaves and even distorts the true nature of existence.I believe this confrontation stems from resistance to perceived threats，threats that originate not only externally but also internally. One could say it is a struggle against something base and unpleasant, something that places them in a state of latent unease,like a fragile condition destined to face crisis.

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

My creative inspiration tends to be explosive—when ideas strike, they come in rapid succession. But during creative dry spells, I consciously avoid artistic work. I make sure to step away, trying other activities to put myself in a “hibernation” state—like taking walks outdoors or engaging with sensory-stimulating films, art books, literature, and news. After all, artistic creation genuinely requires external stimulation. Beyond that, I feel it’s important to engage with or understand social events—whether they occurred in the past or are unfolding now. By exploring these stories, certain details might resonate deeply with me. I then incorporate these feelings into my work, which I find to be a valuable experience for creating new pieces.

What is your creative process like? Do you follow a routine or work spontaneously?

From sourcing the imagery to sketching out the rough draft, this phase is relatively well-planned. However, I always leave room for revisions before finalizing the piece. I prefer setting aside works when they reach about 80% completion—ideally no longer than two months. During this period, I make minor adjustments to unsatisfactory elements. If left untouched too long, I lose creative momentum and may even selectively destroy some pieces, as I need to preserve the impulse and sense of unfamiliarity inherent in the creative process. Ideas often strike when I’m doing things completely unrelated to painting. At such moments, I’ll jot down keywords and rough sketches as quickly as possible. Yet after finishing daily tasks, when I revisit these hastily scribbled notes and sketches, I frequently forget the vivid imagery that once filled my mind.

How do your personal experiences and identity influence your art?

I was born and raised in Shijiazhuang, a northern city in Hebei Province, China, and spent my entire student years in the neighboring cities of Jinan and Tianjin. Consequently, most of my memories are rooted in the north, where the tide of industrialization constantly made me feel the insignificance of the individual. Soaring smokestacks, sprawling factory complexes, and crisscrossing rail tracks are deeply ingrained here. The rumble of machinery and railways, along with the pungent, sour odors wafting from chemical plants, seem to narrate the unyielding industrial DNA of these cities.

My family was no exception; we too were swept up in this tide. After my mother quit her job at the textile factory, gave birth to me and my twin brother, and then threw herself into running our family’s factory, our place in the city remained unchanged: it was always industry that underpinned our sense of belonging to this place. From childhood through my student years, this city remained a hazy gray in my memory. I can’t recall when people began painting cheap blue skies, white clouds, and green grass over factory walls and smokestacks. Even now, you can still see workers repainting layer upon layer, covering the faded, peeling “colorful landscapes” beneath.

Reinforcing bars and concrete have become synonymous with these northern cities, and I’ve grown weary of this industrial ethos.So I attempted to shift my gaze to the natural environment, hoping to use the microcosmic natural world with a mystical tendency to create a more resilient symbol of survival. I use natural elements such as insects and bones to depict a strange and mysterious world manipulated by supernatural forces, to awaken the alienation and absurdity of the present reality, and to contemplate the brevity of life and the illusory nature of matter.much like the social individuals embodied by insects, absurdly unable to escape the repetitive tides of society. This seems like a fated inevitability, perfectly mirroring humanity’s inseparable, deep-rooted connection to the relentless currents of reality.

How do you approach exhibiting your work? What are your goals when showing your art in public spaces?

I usually exhibit my paintings through collaborative galleries, and such spaces are often referred to as “white box” forms.Regarding current easel painting, I believe the focus should remain on the artwork itself. Therefore, I am not currently engaging in extensive discussions about whether to emphasize or downplay the spatial presence. This may be revisited when new works and fresh perspectives emerge in the future.

When exhibiting artworks in public spaces, my core aspiration is to establish a dialogue with the audience and foster more diverse interpretations. In truth, one unavoidable issue viewers confront when engaging with artworks is that the extension of meaning remains confined to a one-way transmission to the audience. The artist then becomes the producer of the work’s “sole will,” thereby reinforcing the power dynamics of “creator-centered theory.” This guidance through visual symbols is crucial, which is why I remain vigilant against elitist artistic expression and the hegemonic trap of over-reliance on iconography for decoding symbols. Beyond pursuing spiritual recognition and fulfillment, the sale of artworks is an unavoidable practical reality. As a creator who has recently entered the art market and aspires to cultivate a long-term presence in this field, market validation of my work is an indispensable component alongside family support.

Text & photo courtesy of Fanhua Xiao

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