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Pressure Cooker and Rehearsal Ground
A Conversation with Phil Zheng Cai on Eli Klein Gallery’s Residency-Then-Exhibition Program
Text by Webson Ji, Asian Art Contemporary™
Recent conversations around contemporary Asian art and the Asian diaspora led to an invitation to visit Eli Klein Gallery and its residency program. I was drawn to the program’s format: a months-long residency situated within a gallery, followed by an exhibition that grew out of the artists’ evolving ideas and work in the space.
On August 26, 2026, I visited the gallery and met with Tianyi Sun and Clare Hu, learning more about their practices and experiences during the residency. The visit left me thinking about how artists engage with a space while developing their work, and how a temporary residency can become an extension of an artist’s ongoing practice.
These questions led to a broader conversation with Phil, Partner at Eli Klein Gallery, about the program from different perspectives—the artists, the gallery, and the development of the program itself. Rather than approaching this as a conventional interview, we wanted to explore some of the ideas that emerged from the visit and let the conversation move naturally between our observations, questions, and perspectives.

Installation view of Best by 07/21/2026, Photo courtesy of Eli Klein Gallery Webson: Thank you for joining me in this conversation. I had a great time getting to know the artists and their practices through our one-on-one conversations, and it was meaningful to exchange thoughts and share some of my own perspectives with them. And of course, thank you again for inviting me to the studio visit.
I was particularly interested in the shift in spatial relationships between the residency and the final exhibition. During the residency, each artist seemed to develop their work within a more defined area of the gallery, while in the exhibition, those boundaries became much more fluid, creating a different rhythm and relationship between the works and the space. I’m curious about how you were thinking about that transition as a curator. But perhaps before getting into that, could you tell us a little more about the program itself, and what you hoped to create through the residency?

Studio visit, Photo courtesy of Eli Klein Gallery Phil: Thank you, Webson for this opportunity to share and elaborate. And much appreciated on becoming one of our guest visitors for the residency-then-exhibition. It is a biannual program that we started in 2024 with our first cohort featuring artists Shuai Yang, Wenfei Quan, and Echo Youyi Yan. That experience was extremely rewarding both for us and the artists, and we decided that this model of work has to be executed repeatedly, hence the 2026 second cohort. The program actually came from my disagreement with how most galleries treat their summer calendar-more often than not with loosely curated group exhibitions that pronounce more as a space filler than actual artistic progression. To take advantage of the summer “slow” time, instead, we thought to emphasize on the real development of emerging artists that we believe in. To further aid this vision, we worked very hard during the summer to help the artists and we continue to invite many experts to visit the residency to provide opinions and critiques for the three artists. In 2024 we had around 30 visitors, and this year that number was 31, with you included.
As the curator for the residency and the exhibition that culminates the residency, I was inspired by one of the catalog essays for the new New Museum’s inaugural exhibition written by Sophie Lewis where she questioned the concept of the human after the discovery of how the “sausage” of us is made. The idea of discarding fascinates me, and is something that I believe is rarely discussed in the contemporary art world where everything seems to be perfectly packaged and presented for either the collectors or the institutions. This theme is perfect for a residency when the process of discarding is not only preferable but absolutely necessary. This was the main concept that weaves the three artists together. The fact that they show particularly coherently is perhaps attributed to the fact that they worked together for two months in the gallery.

Webson Ji and Clare Hu during the studio visit, August 26, 2026, Photo courtesy of Eli Klein Gallery Webson: Yes, and thank you again for inviting me to the studio visit. I really enjoyed the close-up observation of the artists’ practices and the in-depth conversations with them. Since the residency takes place directly within the gallery’s exhibition space during business hours, rather than in a separate studio or back-of-house space, the process of making becomes part of what visitors encounter. I think that creates an interesting dynamic, because some organizations and artists prefer not to reveal the process before the final presentation. So I want to challenge you with a straightforward question: how do you balance supporting the artists’ process with promoting and presenting their work, and how does that consideration shape your selection of artists?
Phil: You are absolutely right that a shadeless fitting room is not for everyone. I love this question and have a two-fold response to it. On the one hand, almost all the visitors that we invited are experts in the field, including curators from major institutions and residency programs, established artists, active writers, and gallery directors. Like myself, they visit hundreds of studios every year, so seeing “how sausage is made” is not new to them, and perhaps is arguably their preferred way to see art and meet the artists. From our perspective, this is more beneficial for the three participants because they tend to receive honest feedback rather than easy praise after a work is finalized and cannot be modified.
On the other hand, the new simulacrum of contemporary art is an amalgam of fast processing, easy consumption, and attention-oriented promotion, which is constantly flattened and accelerated. Artists are often thrown into this pressure cooker of the contemporary art world against their will. The residency, to us, can be regarded as a rehearsal ground where it is both short (two months) so they have to work at a fast pace and open (gallery is kept open during their residency) so that they are accustomed to progressing in a panopticon.

Installation view of Best by 07/21/2026, Photo courtesy of Eli Klein Gallery Webson: That’s interesting. So, what made you choose Clare Hu, Tianyi Sun, and Shaan Ken Rao for this particular program? Was there something they shared that you felt aligned with the core values of the residency, or were you more interested in how their different practices could expand the possibilities of the program?
Phil: This is particularly interesting because the residency to the three artists are, to some degree, this question to me, asking for a disclosure of how I work – therefore I’d be obliged to provide some clarification.
Tianyi was the first artist I confirmed, about half a year ago. She has such a diverse practice, ranging from film and performance to sculpture and installation. Knowing her for quite some time, I approached her with the proposal for her to only focus on sculptures and installations for this residency. The vision later made our collaboration very smooth and generative. I met Clare via Hunter’s MFA open studio earlier this year. Why I particularly like her for our program is her fundamental understanding of weaving. Primarily a result-driven medium, weaving includes a variety of “prep work” before the final application of a loom. Clare has a unique ability to single out many of the prerequisitory steps to provide deconstructive and reconstructive inquiries on this very specific medium. Her “table” series in our final exhibition is a terrific example of this approach where we define it as “weaving without the loom.” I have a strong personal preference for artists who understand mediums rather than simply applying mediums, therefore I felt the program wouldn’t be complete without Clare. Shaan was the last artist I approached. Having only been painting for two years made this selection somewhat of a flyer. But his dedication to painting, choice of mixing Japanese ink into paint, approach to paint structurally and architecturally, him being an excellent photographer, him being a very good musician are all reasons that convinced me that he will soon be a rising star in painting as well.
Aside from these verbalized reasons, there are more thoughts and hunches that are intuitive and subconscious. Therefore, similarly to how artists tell you that they can’t explain a hundred percent of their practice, I would be lying if I try to convince you the above mentioned were the entirety of my reasoning behind deciding to work with Clare, Shaan, and Tianyi.

Studio visit, Photo courtesy of Eli Klein Gallery Webson: I want to push this a little bit further. When working with artists with potential, especially those you may be collaborating with for the first time, is there anything you absolutely don’t want to see happen in the process, or any kind of experience you would want to avoid? And more broadly, is there a core value or boundary that you feel you need to stand by throughout the program, no matter how the residency evolves?
Phil: I will try to provide a more general and abstract answer, and hope you or the readers will put this into context in their own experience. I am a firm believer of art for art sake, and that this transcendental and Platonian concept of ART should be the priority. In recent years, lots of people start to mix art with a lot of other disciplines, and the result is that we rarely see art appear on its own. Rather, it starts to appear with many other things: art and design, art and technology, art and science, the van Gogh experience!! etc etc. If the co-appearance is still defendable, I cannot stand when the other discipline starts to overtake art. To give examples, nowadays we see artists who are better fashion designers than artists, better coders than artists, better activists than artists, and even better philosophers than artists. To look at this from another angle, I’d love to see artists who use another discipline, but then in the practice, he or she provides a critique on both their art and the other discipline. For example, many read Tianyi as a tech artist. But Tianyi is a real contemporary artist above anything else, and her practice actually questions the legitimacy of technology. That’s the type of artist I love and cannot say no to.
Webson: Thank you for sharing these thoughts. Any fun facts or behind-the-scenes moments from the residency that you’d like to share?
Phil: One afternoon during the residency, Tianyi decided to screen her unpublished film (still under edits) to Clare, Shaan, and everyone from the gallery team. So she put her laptop on Clare’s loom stool, and we all sat on Clare’s moving blanket and gave Tianyi a cold read on the film. That’s a coming together moment for the residency.

Behind-the-scenes moments, Photo courtesy of Eli Klein Gallery About the Gallery
Eli Klein Gallery is a leading New York–based gallery specializing in contemporary Asian and Asian diasporic art. Founded in 2007, the gallery has played a pivotal role in shaping the institutional landscape for these artists in the West, serving as a vital cultural bridge between Asia and the international art world. Over nearly two decades, the gallery has facilitated loans and acquisitions for 100+ museum exhibitions worldwide, organized 100+ exhibitions, and published 50+ scholarly monographs and catalogues—reflecting a sustained commitment to curatorial rigor and long-term artist development. Eli Klein Gallery holds a singular position in the American art world as the longest continuously operating gallery outside of Greater China dedicated to Chinese contemporary art. Building on this foundation, it has evolved to represent a rigorously curated global roster of leading Asian and diasporic voices, introducing numerous now internationally recognized artists through their first U.S. solo exhibitions.
About the Curator
Phil Zheng Cai (American, b. Shanghai) is a New York–based curator and writer, and is a partner at Eli Klein Gallery. His research focuses on systematic critique, extending institutional critique through recontextualization, focusing on the inseparability of framework and context. His curated exhibitions have received recognition from Hyperallergic, The Brooklyn Rail, AMP Magazine, and others. His writing has appeared in IMPULSE Magazine, T Magazine China, WhiteHot Magazine, and many others. He has served as a panelist and visiting critic at institutions including Asia Society Museum, Columbia University, Parsons, School of Visual Arts, Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts, and NARS.
About the Writer
Webson Ji is a New York–based cultural producer, nonprofit arts leader, and curator. As the Editorial Director of Asian Art Contemporary™ and Founder and Director of Li Tang Community, he focuses on contemporary Asian art, Asian diaspora cultural ecosystems, nonprofit and institutional development, public programming, and the evolving relationships between artists, institutions, and communities.
(Photo courtesy of the artists and Eli Klein Gallery)
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Observation | Horizons in Rhyme and the Migration of Artistic Practice
Text by Webson Ji, Asian Art Contemporary™
Migration continues to shape the practices of many Asian diaspora artists long after geographic movement itself. Changes in place, environment, material, and working conditions continually reshape how an artist observes and understands the world around them. Artistic practice moves through these conditions as well, carrying established languages and personal histories while responding to new sites, resources, and ways of making. This movement can become especially visible within the temporary conditions of an artist residency, where experimentation often takes place within a compressed period of time.

Installation view of Horizons in Rhyme, Courtesy of the artists and Nguyen Wahed Gallery Horizons in Rhyme, a one-week collective residency at the basement of Nguyen Wahed Gallery in New York, brought together Sao Tanaka, Shuai Yang, and Tina Lam from August 17 to 22, 2026. Curated by Xiao Liu, who helped found TaThaTa Gallery and currently serves as its Curator, the project treated the gallery as both a shared studio and an open exhibition space. Its short duration became an important condition of the project. Each artist arrived with an established practice, while the residency created a temporary setting in which materials, ideas, and existing methods could be tested. As the curatorial statement describes, “Rather than moving toward a predetermined exhibition, the artists allow their work to develop through the circumstances of making together.”
Japanese artist Sao Tanaka has developed an international practice across New York and Japan. Having followed her work for several years through multiple collaborations, I noticed a subtle shift in Horizons in Rhyme within a visual language that has remained distinctly her own. The works extend her recurring attention to landscape and human-made forms in nature while introducing different systems through which a place can be observed, recorded, and reconstructed.

Sao Tanaka, Esopus Creek, 2026, Sumi ink, oil, and acrylic on mulberry paper, 38 × 76 in In Esopus Creek, Tanaka references a historical painting of the Hudson River landscape, returning to an earlier artist’s perception and record of a particular place. Horseshoe Bend Ranch, Idaho (left) / Long Valley Land, Missouri (right) turns instead to contemporary real estate materials depicting properties in Idaho and Missouri. Photographs of mountains, rivers, and open land present nature through the standardized visual language of American property marketing. Tanaka responds to these sources through sumi ink, oil, and acrylic on mulberry paper, dissolving their photographic specificity into shifting forms. Historical painting, commercial imagery, and Tanaka’s own interpretation become different layers through which landscape is perceived. Their movement across time also reveals how the natural environment can be repeatedly reframed through changing cultural and material conditions.

Sao Tanaka, Horseshoe Bend Ranch, Idaho (left) /Long Valley Land, Missouri (right), 2026, Sumi ink, oil, and acrylic on mulberry paper, 38 × 38 in (each) Shuai Yang is a New York–based artist with an established presence in the city’s contemporary art community. Her research-based and theory-driven practice moves across sculpture, printmaking, and painting, with measurement and multiplicity recurring throughout her work. One reference within this practice is the coastline paradox, in which the measured length of a coastline changes according to the scale used. Measurement therefore becomes more than a technical operation. It raises questions around how apparently objective knowledge is constructed through particular scales, bodies, technologies, and systems.

Shuai Yang, For Mare, 2026, Layout paper, assorted tape, paint covered foam blocks, 11 × 29 × 16 in During the residency, Yang brought this investigation directly into the gallery. In For Mare, layout paper extends across the floor before being folded into a sculptural form. Yang describes the process as a kind of “folding up the land”: a mapped surface loses its original dimensions and orientation while acquiring a new physical body. The residency also became an opportunity for material substitution. Map Pa Mun Di, made with cardboard, wax, and steel, and And once names appear, you should know when to stop, made with cardboard and wax, extend this experimentation into smaller sculptural forms. Through folding, compression, and joining, these materials can visually recall the structural qualities of welded or compressed metal. Yang’s recognizable precision remains present, while the change in materials opens another way of considering measurement, space, and the physical construction of form.

Shuai Yang, And once names appear, you should know when to stop, 2026, Cardboard, wax, 5 × 3 3/4 × 5 in (left), 11 × 9 × 4 in (right) Montréal-based artist Tina Lam works across sculpture, installation, land-art intervention, drawing, and performance. She holds a PhD in Chemistry from McGill University alongside an MFA in Creative Visual Arts from Cornell University. Her scientific background informs an artistic practice attentive to material transformation, natural processes, and forces that do not always assume a stable or immediately visible form.

Tina Lam, Void in the Storm, 2026, Black aluminum foil, 56 × 55 in During the residency, Lam worked across ink on silk and sculptural materials. Void in the Storm, made from black aluminum foil, was shaped by the wind and her body in motion as she ran with it across the grounds of Storm King Sculpture Park while participating in its artist residency programme. By contrast, a plain of pure distance across which everything is swept and wanderers estranged from the cartography of longing are made of ink delicately but resolutely drawn on crepe de Chine silk. All these works respond to gravity, movement, touch, natural forms and patterns, and the surrounding architecture, allowing the materials themselves to register processes of change. Beyond the works on view, Lam connects these concerns to her parents’ experiences of forced displacement, memories carried from childhood, and her own evolving relationship with the natural world. Her reflections also returned to childhood experiences of fear and resistance toward nature, which she later reconsidered through her study of science and her artistic practice. Nature consequently appears across her practice as something continually encountered, observed, remembered, and misunderstood again.

Tina Lam, what is less understood is why mountains become primates, 2026, Ink on silk, 54 × 72 in The compressed timeframe of a one-week residency can hardly offer a complete view of practices that have developed over years. Horizons in Rhyme instead captures three established practices during a particular period of experimentation. The curatorial statement describes them as rhyming “through proximity, repetition, and difference.” Tanaka examines changing ways of observing and representing landscape; Yang works through measurement and the physical reorganization of space; Lam considers material transformation and changing perceptions of nature. Their approaches remain distinct, while the residency places each practice within a temporary set of spatial, material, and practical conditions.

Installation view of Horizons in Rhyme, Courtesy of the artists and Nguyen Wahed Gallery For Asian diaspora artists, these conditions can shift repeatedly from project to project and site to site. New environments bring different histories, materials, resources, limitations, and relationships to one’s surroundings. An established artistic language travels through these encounters without remaining entirely unchanged. The uncertainty embedded within migration can therefore extend into the development of artistic practice itself, shaped by personal experience alongside the environments in which work is produced. What migrates is not only the Asian diaspora artist, but also the practice itself.
About the Writer
Webson Ji is a New York–based cultural producer, nonprofit arts leader, and curator. As the Editorial Director of Asian Art Contemporary™ and Founder and Director of Li Tang Community, he focuses on contemporary Asian art, Asian diaspora cultural ecosystems, nonprofit and institutional development, public programming, and the evolving relationships between artists, institutions, and communities.
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Third Space Is a Verb, Shifts of Memory, Identity and the Moving Adaptation
Text: Jianing Lu, Asian Art Contemporary™
Li Tang presents Third Space Is a Verb International Juried Exhibition from August 17 to October 30, 2026. The exhibition approaches the third space as an ongoing condition that is continually produced. Within this framework, identity becomes a shifting process shaped by memory, language, movement, cultural experience, and one’s relationship with the environment.

Poster credit: Li Tang Community Selected by guest jurors Matilda Lin Berke, Oorja Garg, and Abhishek Tuiwala, the exhibition brings together works by fourteen artists: Unimuke Agada, Andi Bierlein, Raisa Raquel Durandi, Hsiao-Chu Hsia, Yujin Hur, Ningyi Jiang, Leekyung Kang, Eunha Kim, Hoho Kuo, Colby Lamson-Gordon, Lu LEI, Chen Liu, Arete Xu, and Zixuan Zhao. Across these different practices, hybridity emerges as a method rather than a label, while belonging is understood as something actively created rather than inherited. Together, these perspectives reflect that identity is less a fixed category than a space of continual exchange and negotiation.
Diasporic experience is often described through nouns such as “migration,” “identity,” “home,” or “hybridity,” but lived experience is rarely static. People are constantly translating, remembering, adapting, negotiating, and reconstructing themselves. The third space, then, is not a place that naturally exists, but a process formed through these ongoing actions. This is the core of Third Space Is a Verb: it shifts attention from “who we are” and “where we are” to “what we are doing.” Identity is no longer simply an object waiting to be defined and classified, but becomes an ongoing practice. “Translation” and “memory” therefore emerge as important threads.

Colby Lamson-Gordon, I Can See The Moon and Sometimes I Wonder, 2026, Found box, HD video with sound, Variable Translation is not only a matter of moving between languages, but also of how individuals bring existing experiences into new cultural and social environments and continually adjust the ways they understand them. Memory, likewise, is not a stable record of the past, but something reorganized each time it is recalled. Colby Lamson-Gordon’s I Can See The Moon and Sometimes I Wonder places moving images within a temporarily constructed cardboard structure, turning an everyday object into a medium for distant scenes, memory, and imagination, and emphasizing how experience can be reorganized across different spaces.

Andi Bierlein, Peel, 2026, 35mm, 3 x 2 in The idea of the third space shifts attention away from fixed categories and toward the relationships that emerge across different experiences. Andi Bierlein’s Peel presents an everyday object through a grainy 35mm image, making the familiar appear strange and suggesting how identity and memory shift over time. Understanding the third space as a “verb” also keeps hybridity from becoming another fixed label, allowing diasporic experience to remain open rather than predetermined by cultural categories.

Lu LEI, Untitled, 2025, Hand embroidered text on organza, 135 x 100 cm Rather than asking, “What kind of identity does this person represent?”, it may be more useful to consider how a person navigates the relationship between identity, memory, cultural experience, and present circumstances. Lu LEI’s Untitled places hand-embroidered text on translucent organza, allowing the words to shift in visibility depending on light and background. Language no longer functions as a fixed carrier of meaning, but as something continually reinterpreted through environment, viewing, and relation.

Li Tang Panel: Third Space Is a Verb, 2026, Panelists: Jenny Wang, Abhishek Tuiwala, Matilda Lin Berke, Webson Ji, Accent Sisters, New York, Photo credit: Asian Art Contemporary™ These questions were further extended beyond the exhibition through Li Tang Panel: Third Space Is a Verb, held in New York on August 23, 2026. Initiated by Li Tang and co-produced with Accent Sisters and IMPULSE Magazine, the public program was moderated by Jenny Wang and featured Abhishek Tuiwala, Matilda Lin Berke, and Webson Ji. The support of Accent Sisters and IMPULSE Magazine also contributed to Li Tang’s long-standing nonprofit mission of connecting creative communities, expanding visibility, and fostering shared dialogue. As an extension of the exhibition, the panel transformed questions of identity, diasporic experience, and contemporary cultural practice from a curatorial proposition into a live public conversation.
This shift from exhibition to discussion is important. If the third space is truly understood as a verb, then it should not remain only within a theoretical or exhibition framework; it should also take place between people. The third space begins to form when individuals from different backgrounds exchange experiences, explain their perspectives to one another, or question a given definition. It is equally present when writers, curators, artists, and cultural workers search for new language to describe experiences that existing categories cannot fully contain.

Li Tang Panel: Third Space Is a Verb, 2026, Event view, Accent Sisters, New York, Photo credit: Asian Art Contemporary™ The panel extended the exhibition’s central idea by allowing different experiences to coexist without forcing a single conclusion. Instead of defining “diaspora,” “identity,” or “third space,” the discussion kept these concepts open to reinterpretation. Ultimately, Third Space Is a Verb presents the third space as something continually shaped through communication, negotiation, and shared experience.
(Image courtesy of Li Tang Community)
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Observation | Contemporary Asian Art and the Questions Being Asked
Reflections on Home and Abroad (Alisan Fine Arts New York), How Asian Is It? (The Milton Resnick and Pat Passlof Foundation), and recent conversations on contemporary Asian art in New York.
Text by Webson Ji, Asian Art Contemporary™
Contemporary Asian art occupies a distinctive position within New York’s art ecosystem. It is often used to describe artists connected by geography, migration, ethnicity, or cultural heritage, even though their work frequently begins from very different points of departure. Rather than identifying a single artistic position, contemporary Asian art often functions as an umbrella for multiple artistic trajectories.
Over the past several years, building Asian artist communities through a nonprofit arts organization in New York has allowed me to work closely with artists based across Asia, Asian diaspora artists, and Asian American artists, while collaborating with galleries, museums, universities, and independent arts organizations throughout the city. Across these conversations, one observation has remained consistent: artists grouped under the term “contemporary Asian art” often begin from fundamentally different starting points. They are not necessarily responding to the same histories, asking the same questions, or working toward the same artistic concerns.

Installation view of Home and Abroad, Courtesy of Alisan Fine Arts New York That observation was reinforced while visiting Home and Abroad, on view at Alisan Fine Arts New York from July 9 through August 28, 2026. Celebrating the gallery’s 45th anniversary, the exhibition brings together more than thirty artists through three curatorial sections—Reinventing Tradition, New York Voices, and Home and Abroad. Rather than presenting a chronological survey of Chinese contemporary art, the exhibition places artists working across generations and cultural contexts into dialogue. The curatorial structure is less concerned with establishing a single historical narrative than with revealing multiple artistic trajectories existing simultaneously.

Installation view of Home and Abroad, Courtesy of Alisan Fine Arts New York This perspective continues in How Asian Is It?, presented at The Milton Resnick and Pat Passlof Foundation from May 8 through July 26, 2026. Curated by Lilly Wei, the exhibition brings together twelve Asian American abstract painters whose work resists easy cultural categorization. As Wei writes in the accompanying essay, ” Artists are not predictable, nor is the art they make—which is as it should be. Artists should be free to make the work they choose to make, and not be compelled to pursue choices that have been determined for them.” Rather than reinforcing identity as a fixed interpretive framework, the exhibition invites viewers to reconsider how contemporary Asian art is read in the first place.

Installation view of How Asian Is It?, 2026. © Milton Resnick and Pat Passlof Foundation Neither exhibition attempts to define contemporary Asian art. Instead, both demonstrate that the field becomes more meaningful when approached through artistic inquiry rather than predetermined categories.
Working across these different contexts, I have found myself returning to three recurring observations.
For many Asian diaspora artists, a recurring question is:
How do I translate?
Translation extends far beyond language. It becomes a way of navigating different educational systems, artistic traditions, cultural expectations, and lived experiences. Included in Home and Abroad, Yang Jiechang’s Hundred Layers of Ink, developed after his move from Guangzhou to Paris, transforms ink painting through repetition and conceptual process. Rather than preserving tradition unchanged, the work demonstrates how artistic traditions continue to evolve as they move across different cultural environments.

Yang Jiechang, Hundred Layers of Ink – Rectangle Inclined, 1995, Ink on paper, 51.5 x 70 cm (20 ¼ x 27 ½ in) For many Asian American artists, another question emerges:
Where do I come from?
Family archives, memory, ancestry, and cultural inheritance frequently become the foundation of artistic inquiry. Also included in Home and Abroad, Summer Mei-Ling Lee layers family photographs, translucent gauze, and gold leaf to reconstruct inherited histories across generations. Rather than translating between cultures, her work reflects an effort to understand what has been preserved, what has been forgotten, and what can still be carried forward.

Summer Mei-Ling Lee, Annunciation XI, 2025, Oil, acrylic, and 23.5k gold on wood, 30.5 x 46.5 cm (open) (12 x 18 ¼ in [open]) For many artists living and working in Asia, the question is often different:
How do I respond to where I already am?
Cities, labor, materiality, technology, ecology, politics, and everyday life frequently become the central subjects of artistic practice. Cultural identity remains one possible reading, but not always the artist’s primary concern. Also featured in Home and Abroad, Malaysian artist Justin Lim turns toward domestic interiors and the visual culture of everyday life, demonstrating how contemporary Asian art is equally shaped by artists responding directly to their own social and cultural environments.

Justin Lim, Cornerstone, 2026, Acrylic on canvas, 75 x 60 cm (29 ½ x 23 ⅝ in) These observations are not intended to construct another system of categorization. Artists move between different concerns throughout their careers, and many practices resist any fixed interpretive framework. What matters is not where artists are placed, but where their work begins.
These ideas extended beyond the exhibitions during a recent public conversation at Alisan Fine Arts between Richard Vine, former Managing Editor of Art in America, and Jenny Wang, Editor-in-Chief of IMPULSE Magazine. Rather than seeking a definitive description of contemporary Asian art, the discussion returned to many of the same questions raised by Home and Abroad and How Asian Is It? How should contemporary Asian art be understood? Can one institutional framework adequately describe artists working across such different cultural and social contexts?

The Third Object, Conversation moderated by Richard Vine and Xuezhu Jenny Wang, Photo credit: Asian Art Contemporary, Courtesy of Alisan Fine Arts New York Categories such as Asian art, Asian American art, and Asian diaspora art have long shaped how contemporary Asian art is presented and discussed. While these categories continue to influence institutional narratives, they cannot fully represent the diversity of artistic practices within the field. The contemporary Asian art ecosystem is built not by labels, but by the artists and art professionals who question, create, document, exhibit, and expand the many ways the field is experienced and understood. Asian diaspora artists, Asian American artists, and artists living and working across Asia may begin from different questions, yet together they shape the ecosystem that curators, writers, museums, galleries, educators, nonprofit organizations, collectors, publications, and AAPI communities continue to build.

The Third Object, Conversation moderated by Richard Vine and Xuezhu Jenny Wang, Photo credit: Asian Art Contemporary, Courtesy of Alisan Fine Arts New York Contemporary Asian art is best understood as an evolving field of inquiry, shaped by the people who create it, interpret it, and contribute to it. Understanding the field is therefore less about arriving at a single definition than remaining open to the questions that continue to shape it.
About the Writer
Webson Ji is a New York–based cultural producer, nonprofit arts leader, and curator. As the Editorial Director of Asian Art Contemporary™ and Founder and Director of Li Tang Community, he focuses on contemporary Asian art, Asian diaspora cultural ecosystems, nonprofit and institutional development, public programming, and the evolving relationships between artists, institutions, and communities.
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Holding the In-Between: Four Painters Exploring Identity, Reality, and Fantasy in Contemporary Asian Art
Contemporary Asian painting today resists easy legibility. Moving between memory, perception, and imagination, artists increasingly turn away from fixed narratives in favor of ambiguity, atmosphere, and psychological space. For Sao Tanaka, Ngai Wing Lam, Hsieh Mu-Chi, and Jiwon Cha, painting is not merely a medium of representation but a site for exploring identity and experience. Across New York, Hong Kong, Taipei, and London, these artists balance the real and the fantastical, allowing personal histories, local myths, and collective memory to surface obliquely. Their work demonstrates that identity is never fixed; it emerges through fragments, atmospheres, and moments of recognition, inhabiting the “in-between” of perception and imagination.
What unites these four painters is a commitment to attentiveness over declaration. Each navigates uncertainty through their distinct visual languages, crafting compositions where reality and fantasy, self and society, interior and exterior, are held in tension. Together, they reflect an introspective practice in Asian contemporary art—one in which painting becomes a method for embracing complexity rather than resolving it.

Sao Tanaka, Imitation of Nature #3, 2025, Sumi ink, gold paint, oil and acrylic on mulberry paper, 35.8 x 26 in Sao Tanaka
Tokyo-born, New York-based Sao Tanaka’s work investigates landscapes, myth, and collective identity, rendering inorganic materials in genesis-like scenes that juxtapose realism and fantasy. Trained in traditional Japanese painting (Nihonga) and later in sociology and cultural anthropology at Hitotsubashi University in Tokyo, Tanaka explores not only artistic forms but the cultural and social systems that shape them. Her practice is a continual negotiation between inherited conventions and personal vision, where tradition and contemporary inquiry coexist in tension.
In her 2025 Imitation of Nature series, Tanaka’s layered compositions balance naturalistic detail with surreal characteristics, creating spaces that feel both familiar and otherworldly. Through these in-between landscapes, she examines how memory, cultural mythology, and identity converge, asking viewers to inhabit worlds that are both real and imagined.

Ngai Wing Lam, The Big Blue Blanket – “I found some knowledge.”, 2023, Oil on wood panel, 60 x 80 cm Ngai Wing Lam
Hong Kong-based Ngai Wing Lam, also known as Ant, is recognized for her surreal, introspective paintings featuring koi fish-headed figures. Drawing inspiration from her childhood pets and vivid dreams, these figures serve as channels through which she explores identity, relationality, and the tensions between conformity and difference. Set against the dense, ever-shifting backdrop of Hong Kong’s urban landscapes, her work also navigates the space between reality and fantasy, balancing meticulous, naturalistic brushwork with narrative invention.
Ngai’s tableaux are at once whimsical and psychologically charged, giving form to speechless figures whose ambiguity embodies human complexity, vulnerability, and the subtle pressures of societal expectation. Whether reclining on a beachside bed, gazing toward distant mountains along a winding road, or metamorphosing into a figure that evokes a centaur, these koi fish-headed characters provoke unexpected emotional responses. In Ngai’s landscape, the hybrid figures can be anyone, of any gender, serving as open conduits for viewers’ own memories. Her paintings resist definitive answers, instead opening a reflective space where audiences are invited to navigate personal and collective experiences, inhabiting worlds that hover between the familiar and the uncanny.

Hsieh Mu-Chi, Midnight Submarine, 2024, Acrylic colors on canvas, 129.2 x 95.8 x 5.0 cm Hsieh Mu-Chi
Taipei-based painter Hsieh Mu-Chi situates identity within temporal and local frameworks, exploring how personal and collective histories intersect in visual form. His layered, composite landscapes juxtapose fragments of memory, historical reference, and environmental observation, blurring the boundary between lived reality and imagined worlds.
A graduate of the Department of Fine Arts at Taipei National University of the Arts, Hsieh has long been drawn to drawing and painting as tools for expressing the multifaceted self. It was during his university studies that he began to systematically engage with art-making—not only through creation, but through art history, theory, and technical exploration. He describes “unexpected discoveries” as central to his practice: encounters with other artists’ works or writings that challenge preconceptions, expand imagination, and refine the ability to observe.
By drawing on 19th- and 20th-century Taiwanese painting traditions while incorporating contemporary issues, Hsieh’s work treats the act of seeing itself as a form of negotiation. Each canvas becomes a space where past and present, real and fantastical, local and global converge—inviting viewers to navigate the fluidity of identity and the ongoing dialogue between self, history, and place.

Jiwon Cha, He hopes for an eternity from now, 2024, Oil on canvas, 200 x 300 cm Jiwon Cha
London-based Jiwon Cha investigates the sublime and the emotional terrain of identity through painting. Her works dwell in the tension between hope and despair, control and surrender, reality and fantasy, translating the contradictions of contemporary experience into richly textured, immersive canvases. Cha’s practice re-articulates the sublime for the 21st century, exploring what it means to feel awe, uncertainty, and vulnerability in a world shaped by forces both personal and societal. By emphasizing the conditions of the “unknown” and the experience of losing control, her paintings probe the delicate balance between despair and hope, continually questioning fate and human agency.
Cha’s process privileges feeling over narrative, allowing personal introspection to merge with universal concerns. Whether through landscapes, figuration, or abstraction, her canvases evoke contemplative spaces where identity is both lived and imagined. In doing so, she aligns with a contemporary practice of painting that values the perceptual and emotional resonance of the in-between—where fantasy and reality converge—over formal resolution.
The work of these four contemporary Asian artists reveals a shared engagement with the shifting terrain of identity, perception, and imagination. Through painting, they articulate a contemplative mode of contemporary practice in which reality and fantasy, personal memory and collective narrative, remain in constant negotiation rather than fixed opposition. Within these liminal spaces, painting becomes more than a medium of expression; it operates as a form of sensitivity and inquiry, tracing how identities are constructed, remembered, and continually transformed. What emerges is not resolution, but a heightened awareness of the unstable, poetic, and deeply human textures that shape contemporary experience.
Text by Chantel Shiah, Asian Art Contemporary
Image courtesy of Sao Tanaka, Ngai Wing Lam, Hsieh Mu-Chi, Jiwon Cha
Interviews with Asian Art Contemporary
- Sao Tanaka: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/07/08/interview-new-york-based-artist-sao-tanaka/
- Ngai Wing Lam: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/06/25/interview-hong-kong-based-artist-ngai-wing-lam/
- Hsieh Mu-Chi: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/07/03/interview-taipei-based-artist-hsieh-mu-chi/
- Jiwon Cha: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/11/18/interview-london-based-artist-jiwon-cha/
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To Wake Within the Dream: A Review of A Waking Dream at Fou Gallery
“Once we dreamt that we were strangers.
We wake up to find that we were dear to each other.”Rabindranath Tagore’s brief aphorism from Stray Birds opens onto the thought that dreams are never merely illusions, but thresholds through which the unconscious quietly touches reality. In the dim passage between sleep and awakening, what seems distant may reveal itself as intimate; what appears unknown may return as something long remembered. This is also what A Waking Dream at Fou Gallery brings into view—dreaming not as a retreat from reality, but as a passage through which hidden affinities come to the surface. In this space, the self, the unconscious, the material world, and the cosmic order are not separate realms, but interwoven dimensions that may be recognized through the archetypal language of dreams.
There is a peculiar state many may have experienced: the moment when one realizes one is dreaming, yet refuses to wake. The dream continues like a film projected from within, its scenes arranged with a strange private logic, its plot addressed only to the dreamer. We follow it because we want to know what comes next, even as we sense that it will end, inevitably, without closure. In A Waking Dream, this fragile, suspended state unfolds through the works of Wendy Letven, Davina Hsu, and Sascha Mallon, whose practices give form to the elusive possibilities that dreams hold. Their works gather individual visions into a shared field of reflection, where the private image begins to echo within the collective soul.
As curator Echo Yu He writes, “Dreams bridge both worlds—the visible and the invisible, the conscious and the unconscious, the inner and the outer.” Entering reality through the realm of dreams, the exhibition forms a Gesamtkunstwerk: a unified creative environment in which architecture, design, interior space, material forms, and symbolic images merge into a cohesive whole.

Group exhibition: A Waking Dream installation view, 2026.
Photography by Jiaqi, courtesy of Fou GalleryWithin this Gesamtkunstwerk, Wendy Letven gives visible form to the invisible rhythms of dreaming. In many dreams, images arrive before language; vision carries the weight of meaning before words can name it. Letven’s paintings and suspended sculptures seem to follow this logic. They do not narrate dreams, but create the conditions of one. Through flowing colors, repeated curves, and biomorphic geometries, she opens an alternate reality where thought, sensation, and space move according to their own quiet order.
In Day Break, layered arcs and luminous colors evoke the first stirring of consciousness, as if light were slowly entering the mind before language arrives. The canvas becomes a dreamscape in formation: fluid, unstable, and gently awakening. In Outliers, floating marks and displaced shapes appear like signals from the edge of perception—unexpected fragments that interrupt the field, yet guide the viewer deeper into its inner rhythm. Across these paintings, Letven builds a chromatic language of dreams, where repetition becomes pulse and color becomes atmosphere.
Her sculptures and installations give this dream a material body. In Echolocation, suspended aluminum forms drift through the gallery like visual echoes, inviting viewers to navigate the space through rhythm, shadow, and intuition. Although aluminum often carries a sense of coldness or industrial distance, Letven softens it through color, curve, and suspension, making it feel weightless and quietly welcoming. The Circling series extends this language of orbit and return: concentric forms hover between object and apparition, casting shadows like ripples across the wall. Together, these works transform the gallery into a dream-space—one that viewers do not simply observe, but gently step into.

Wendy Letven, Echolocation, 2024.
Powder-coated aluminum,102 x 30 x 40 inches ©Wendy Letven, courtesy of Fou GalleryIf Wendy Letven gives the dream its structure, Davina Hsu brings softness into its atmosphere. Made primarily of natural wool felted over soft foam, and often extended through crystals, gold leaf, or epoxy clay, Hsu’s works appear like tactile portals—tender on the surface, yet charged with another kind of vision beneath. Their softness does not simply comfort; it invites the viewer into a dreamland where color glows, forms pulse, and hidden energies seem to gather quietly inside the material. Under UV light, many of her works disclose another visual dimension, as if the visible world were only the first skin of the dream, while its deeper secrets wait in the dark.
In Clairvoyant, this double life of the image becomes especially vivid. The work does not depict a dream as a scene, but as a state of heightened perception: a field where intuition, altered vision, and inner signal merge into one soft, luminous body. Its bright felted colors and rounded forms suggest sweetness, but also a strange intensity, as if the work were receiving messages from beyond ordinary consciousness. Galactic Guardian extends this feeling into a more protective and celestial presence. Its wing-like colors and radiant surface evoke a guardian figure that is both gentle and otherworldly, familiar and distant. Together, these works place viewers in a space where the dream is not merely an escape from reality, but a threshold through which unspoken desires, secret knowledge, and spiritual recognition begin to surface.

Davina Hsu, Galactic Guardian, 2026.
Natural wool felted on soft foam, gold leafed resin clay, 33 x 24 x 7 inches ©Davina Hsu, courtesy of Fou GalleryHsu’s material additions, crystals, gold leaf, and epoxy clay, deepen the wool’s tenderness with talismanic force. In Kyanite, mineral fragments become quiet points of grounding within the felted field; in Sulfur, a golden orbit and fiery central element bring a more solar and alchemical force, suggesting transformation held within a soft circulation. Through these works, softness becomes a vessel for power. Hsu’s dreamland is not weightless fantasy, but an energetic terrain where color, matter, and hidden light invite the viewer to sense what daylight alone cannot hold.

Group exhibition: A Waking Dream installation view, 2026.
Photography by Jiaqi, courtesy of Fou GallerySometimes, dreams are not only private visions, but carriers of collective memory. With her background in art therapy and meditation, Sascha Mallon approaches the dream as an evolving mythology—one that carries wounds, tenderness, and the possibility of repair. In Consequences of a Broken Sky, she builds a fragile universe from porcelain, crochet, mirror, wall painting, and poetic fragments. The installation feels like a world after rupture: broken, uneven, and exposed, yet still capable of growing new forms. Its hand-built surfaces, dark and pale terrains, delicate bridges, and domestic threads turn collapse into a space of care, as if the dream were not hiding pain, but giving it a symbolic body through which it can be held.
Within this dream-world, Mallon’s porcelain figures appear like characters from a fairy tale remembered in sleep. Der Schlafende Schwan—Sleeping Swan rests in a state between vulnerability and renewal, its body marked by blossoms that seem to grow from stillness itself. The swan becomes a nocturnal emblem of life waiting quietly inside rest, suggesting that healing may begin before one is fully awake. Däumelinchen—Thumbelina, by contrast, carries the strength of smallness. Drawn from Andersen’s fairy tale, the figure appears fragile and unpolished, yet alive with the courage of a soul moving through a world too large for it. In Mallon’s hands, fairy tale is not an escape from reality, but a language for surviving it.

Group exhibition: A Waking Dream installation view, 2026.
Photography by Jiaqi, courtesy of Fou GalleryWorks such as Das Ewig Strebende Herz—Unyielding Heart and Zwischen Eis und Blüten—Falling into Form deepen this mythology of wounded resilience. The heart becomes not a polished symbol of emotion, but a raw and persistent life force, beating within a broken landscape. Falling into Form suggests the moment when an inner poem, once suspended in the invisible, begins to take on weight, texture, and body. Across Mallon’s installation, dreamimages become forms for truths that waking language often cannot hold. Porcelain, thread, blossoms, and mirrored surfaces gather into a tender alchemy, where wounded hearts are not simply healed by magic, but transformed through the deeper intelligence of the unconscious.
In the end, A Waking Dream does not ask us to wake from the dream, but to wake within it. Through Letven’s rhythmic fields, Hsu’s luminous softness, and Mallon’s wounded mythologies, the exhibition gathers fragments of perception into a shared interior landscape. What first appears distant—a floating line, a glowing surface, a sleeping swan, a broken sky—slowly becomes familiar, as if each form were carrying a memory we had not yet learned how to name.
To leave the exhibition, then, is not to return completely to the ordinary world, but to carry back a residue of its dream logic: the sense that the visible and invisible have always been touching, that the self and the world are less separate than they seem, and that even our most private visions may belong to a larger, quieter kinship. Like Tagore’s strangers who wake to find themselves dear to one another, A Waking Dream reminds us that to wake within the dream is to recognize that the dream was never an illusion of distance, but a tender rehearsal for recognition.
Written by Zhiheng Ashely Zhang
Courtesy of FOU Gallery
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From Medium to Method: The Structural Breakthrough of Han Qin’s Solo Exhibition, State of Becoming
In today’s contemporary art landscape, the success of an exhibition can no longer be evaluated solely through the completion or quality of the artworks themselves. While the works remain the foundation, projects of real significance increasingly depend on another dimension: whether the artist has established a sufficiently coherent methodology, whether curatorial practice has translated that methodology into a recognizable structure, and whether audiences are genuinely able to enter into the experience rather than remain outside it as passive viewers.

Han Qin’s solo exhibition State of Becoming, presented at MEMOR Museum in New York, demonstrates its importance precisely on these interconnected levels. It is not simply an exhibition of artworks, nor merely a thematic presentation revolving around identity, migration, and memory. More accurately, it marks the first time Han Qin’s previously dispersed practices across multiple media have been clearly consolidated into an integrated artistic structure. This consolidation emerges not only from the artist’s long-term methodological development, but also from the curator’s reorganization of exhibition structure, viewing logic, and participatory mechanisms.

Han Qin’s practice spans cyanotype, printmaking, painting, digital projection, and installation. From the perspective of medium alone, such interdisciplinary practice is not uncommon in contemporary art. Yet what makes State of Becoming noteworthy is not the coexistence of multiple media, but the fact that these media no longer operate independently. Instead, they begin to serve a sustained and clearly articulated internal thread: how identity is re-recognized through migration, how memory leaves traces through time, and how experiences that originally remain internal and difficult to articulate can be transformed into visible forms.
This forms a more accurate basis for understanding Han Qin’s artistic achievement. Her significance lies not merely in the number of media she employs, but in the way she advances media from a vehicle of expression into a methodology of experience. Cyanotype, in particular, functions in her practice not simply as a visual style, but as a fundamental working method. It requires the intervention of light, the delay of time, the process of washing, and the patience of waiting for an image to emerge. This suggests that Han Qin does not understand memory as something that can be immediately narrated; rather, she approaches it as something gradually summoned and revealed through material and duration. In this sense, cyanotype becomes not only a medium, but the starting point of a methodology.

The breakthrough of this exhibition lies precisely in the fact that it presents, for the first time with relative completeness, how Han Qin’s work across different media does not constitute a series of isolated chapters, but rather multiple facets unfolding around a shared central inquiry. Printmaking and cyanotype address traces and preservation; painting retains the emotional density of experience; digital projection and installation further extend internal experience into dimensions of time and space. In the past, these media may have corresponded to different stages of artistic focus. In State of Becoming, however, they are brought back under a larger and more integrated conceptual framework. This is not simply formal “richness,” but a structural convergence. As a result, viewers are no longer encountering a list of media, but witnessing how an artist’s inner world gradually takes form through different material languages.
At the same time, what this exhibition accomplishes most fully is still the act of making the whole visible, rather than achieving a final and perfectly precise division of labor among media. In other words, the exhibition clearly demonstrates that different media can collectively serve Han Qin’s core concerns regarding identity, migration, and memory. The more challenging next step will be allowing each medium to assume a more precise role within this larger structure, carrying different layers of experience with greater specificity. This incompleteness is not a flaw; rather, it indicates that State of Becoming is not a closed conclusion, but a clear beginning.
If Han Qin provides the methodological foundation, the exhibition’s significance beyond the level of a conventional solo show also lies in another crucial contribution made by curator Maggie Yang. Rather than treating the exhibition as something purely “about artworks,” Yang further translated it into an experiential structure that audiences could actively enter. In other words, the core of this curatorial approach lies not merely in selecting, arranging, and displaying works, but in advancing the experiential logic embedded within the artworks into a lived relationship between people and the works themselves.

This is precisely what distinguishes the project from more conventional thematic exhibitions. Maggie Yang does not allow State of Becoming to remain at the level of discussing “how artworks express identity, migration, and memory.” Instead, she attempts to construct a stronger viewing relationship in which audiences are gradually drawn into the conditions through which experience itself is formed, rather than passively receiving meaning from outside the work. It is in this context that the workshop component becomes an indispensable methodological element of the exhibition. It is neither an auxiliary public program nor a peripheral activity designed simply to increase interaction; rather, it is one of the core mechanisms through which this prototype becomes meaningful.
Within the workshop, participants were invited to bring images or objects deeply connected to their own experiences and transform memories that once existed only internally into visible surfaces through cyanotype. This process altered two relationships simultaneously. For the artwork, viewers were no longer merely observers of the result, but became part of the conditions of production themselves. For participants, bringing their own images, objects, and memories into the process gradually shifted their relationship to those experiences: from being entirely immersed within them to gaining enough distance to see them anew. This dual transformation expanded the exhibition beyond the presentation of artworks into a genuine experiential field.
Even more convincingly, participant responses demonstrated that this methodology did not remain at the level of conceptual rhetoric, but generated multilayered effects. Some participants realized for the first time, while selecting images, how many things they still wished to preserve; before the workshop had even begun, the process of revisiting and choosing had already become a first act of self-reflection. Others discovered, while revisiting old photographs, that many attachments they once believed impossible to let go of had already been filtered away by time, leaving behind not the relationship itself, but a heart that had quietly returned to itself. Some participants brought ordinary photographs related to pets rather than traumatic memories, yet through the process rediscovered the depth of simple companionship. Others brought self-images from past journeys and ultimately confronted not only a memory, but a former self they had once been unwilling to face directly. Some participants repeatedly exposed old photographs with their children, confronting the irreversible nature of time itself: moments they once assumed they could revisit later had already quietly passed away.

The importance of these responses does not lie in adding “moving stories” to the exhibition, but in demonstrating something more fundamental: the project successfully transformed forms of artistic viewing that often remain confined within professional circles into a public experience that audiences could genuinely enter and relate to through their own lives. What was activated extended far beyond emotional recollection in a narrow sense, encompassing attachment, kinship, companionship, temporal awareness, self-reflection, and even spiritual belief. What emerged through exposure was never merely an image, but the process through which individuals, through image, material, light, and time, gradually recognized what they truly cared about, what they could not let go of, and what they were finally able to face again.
Against a broader contemporary context, such practice becomes particularly significant. Today, art institutions and markets alike are searching for new working models. On the one hand, art cannot sacrifice complexity in the pursuit of accessibility; on the other hand, practices that remain entirely enclosed within professional discourse increasingly struggle to establish broader necessity within reality itself. State of Becoming does not offer a grand answer, but rather a sufficiently concrete and operational prototype. It demonstrates that an artistic practice grounded in a clear methodology can be translated into an experiential structure genuinely accessible to the public without diminishing its professional rigor. What is redefined here is not only the “form of exhibition,” but also professionalism itself: professionalism no longer exists solely as a closed internal system of judgment, but also as the capacity to transform complex experiences into publicly perceptible forms.

Returning to the broader question of what constitutes a successful artwork, the overall effect of State of Becoming offers a compelling case study. Strong works cannot remain solely at the level of personal emotional authenticity, nor can they be measured simply by immediate audience resonance. Truly successful works establish a balance among authenticity, form, and accessibility. They originate from experiences irreducibly specific to the artist, yet through sufficient formal transformation they open pathways through which others may enter. Han Qin’s body of work already possesses this foundation; what Maggie Yang accomplishes through curatorial structure and workshop mechanisms is to transform this latent accessibility from an internal possibility within the works into something that can be publicly experienced and verified in reality.
For this reason, the exhibition achieves far more than merely “presenting a group of strong artworks.” It further demonstrates that when artistic methodology, formal language, curatorial structure, and public experience begin to connect meaningfully, exhibitions can cease to function merely as objects of professional judgment and instead become social spaces that can be entered, experienced, and capable of generating real resonance.

If State of Becoming deserves to be remembered seriously, the reason lies here. It is not merely a successful opening or a well-executed solo exhibition, but a practice that is methodologically clear, structurally self-aware, and oriented toward future possibilities. For Han Qin, it marks the first time her interdisciplinary practice has been perceived as an integrated whole. For curator Maggie Yang, it demonstrates that a curatorial methodology organized around experience and public engagement can move beyond theoretical proposition into lived reality. And for an art world still searching for new directions, it suggests at least one important possibility: art does not have to exist only within the artwork itself; it can also establish new forms of connection between artworks and people, between professionalism and public experience.
Written by Webson Ji, Asian Art Contemporary
Image courtesy of MEMOR Museum and Han QinAbout Artist
Han Qin (韩沁) is a visual artist, researcher. Her work transforms historical archives and scientific inquiry into experiential visual systems, across printmaking, painting, digital media, and public installation. Her work examines how perception, memory, and migration shape individual and collective identities.
Born in Hangzhou, China, she lives and works in Long Island, New York. Han holds B.F.A. and M.F.A. degrees in Printmaking from the China Academy of Art and an M.F.A. in Digital Arts from Pratt Institute. She is a Chancellor’s Award adjunct professor at Stony Brook University.
Han founded Contemporary Art Practice Lab (CAPL), an interdisciplinary platform that bridges artistic practice, public engagement, and institutional collaboration. Through CAPL, she develops scalable models that bridge public dialogue, cultural participation, and interdisciplinary knowledge production.
Her projects extend beyond exhibition formats, engaging museums, communities, and educational contexts as active sites of research and participation. Her work has been presented at institutions in the US and Asia, including Pollock-Krasner House, the Heckscher Museum of Art, and Beijing Today’s Museum. Her projects have been supported by NYSCA (New York State Council on the Arts), NYFA (New York Foundation for the Arts), Swatch Art Foundation, etc.
Website: https://hanqin.myportfolio.com
About Curator
Min Yang (Maggie) is an independent curator and art writer based in New York. Her curatorial practice focuses on cross-cultural translation, spatial narrative, and the relationship between contemporary art and public experience, with an ongoing interest in how exhibitions can evolve from modes of display into experiential structures that audiences can actively enter and perceive.
She has long been engaged in exploring how Eastern cultural contexts may be rearticulated within the international contemporary art landscape, with particular attention to the ways exhibitions construct more open forms of public engagement through space, media, and viewing relationships. Her work often integrates writing, research, and interdisciplinary collaboration, examining the connections between artistic practice, cultural experience, and contemporary modes of perception.
In recent years, her curatorial direction has increasingly focused on experience-oriented curation and the public dimension of art, seeking to expand the perceptual and participatory possibilities of contemporary art while maintaining its conceptual and professional rigor.
About Critic
Webson Ji (吉麟) is an artist, curator, and community leader dedicated to advancing the global visibility of contemporary Asian art and fostering the development of emerging creative ecosystems. To date, he has engaged with and supported over 300 Asian artists and arts professionals. He currently serves as Director of Asian Art Contemporary and is the Founder and Creative Director of Li Tang Community.
His practice centers on contemporary Asian art, actively promoting meaningful exchange and collaboration among Asian artists, galleries, and cultural institutions. Webson has curated and led a range of cross-regional, multilingual exhibitions and public programs, with collaborations including New York Art on Paper Fair, Shanghai HIAF Art Fair, New York RIVAA Gallery, Kyungsung University, and the Los Angeles Sasse Museum. Through these platforms, he continues to facilitate international artistic dialogue while expanding the global visibility and impact of Asian artists.
With a long-standing commitment to social impact and youth development, Webson views art as a vital medium for cultural connection and public engagement. Through Li Tang Community, a New York–based nonprofit arts organization, he has built a cultural platform and creative network that supports artistic practices within the Asian diaspora through artist interviews, exhibitions, and public programming. His work continues to empower the next generation of creatives while broadening the international presence of Asian youth within the global contemporary art ecosystem.
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Cosmic Metabolism: On Residue, Growth, and Technological Afterlives in Xin Liu’s Work
A delicate green mat drifts across a steel tank, a small, fast-replicating plant called duckweed spreading unchecked, its growth both mesmerizing and menacing. On Earth, it is often treated as a nuisance, clogging waterways and suffocating other life. Yet recent research envisions it as a tool for survival in outer space—fuel and sustenance for humans beyond our planet. If growth, preservation, and reproduction can be engineered, what becomes of the natural rhythms they once followed? And when systems, organisms, or objects outlive their intended function, what does their lingering reveal about human ambition, control, and the unseen metabolic currents of our world?

Insomnia, 2025, Mixed media installation (aluminum, stainless steel, resin, fibreglass, acrylic, led lights, silicone oil, water, duckweed), Tank: 1260 x 1780 x 350 mm, Kinetic systems (each): 150 x 1780 x 1200 mm In Xin Liu’s work, this tension is not merely scientific, but ethical, ecological, and poetic. “Lots of the projects I do are world-building and storytelling, rather than object-making,” says the London-based artist and engineer. Combining space exploration, biotechnology, and data manipulation, her practice constructs narratives in which materials, systems, and temporalities remain in flux. Rather than imagining futures, she attends to what technology already does—how it consumes, transforms, exhausts, and accumulates. She calls this long-term trajectory Cosmic Metabolism: a framework she arrived at retrospectively. “When I looked back, this is what I see I have been interested in,” Liu reflects. “Cosmic metabolism is something that I found quite fascinating because I’ve been always interested in this tension between change and permanence and the scale of human life versus the rational understanding of the entire cosmos.” In her works, technology is not an instrument of control but an organism already breaking down. What matters is not the moment of launch or invention, but what follows: debris, unreadable code, exhausted materials, and systems that continue operating past their intended lifespan. Here, exhaust is not failure—it is evidence.
For Liu, this framework also grapples with scale. “We are living in a world where we deal with three meals a day,” she notes, “but also imagine thousands of years of humanity. Do we feel empowered or like dust?” Her work occupies this unstable position between the immediate and the cosmic, where human life oscillates between agency and insignificance.
Across her practice, Liu repeatedly returns to this residue. Rocket fragments, corrupted data streams, plastics dissolving through enzymatic digestion, and reproductive technologies stretched beyond biological limits appear as parallel outputs of technological desire. Productivity gives way to afterlife; achievement leaves behind remainder. Without naming ecological cost or extractive logic directly, Liu allows these systems to reveal their own imbalance—how overproduction, rather than scarcity, becomes the defining pressure.

Detail of Insomnia, 2025 This tension is sharply articulated in Insomnia, a kinetic sculptural ecosystem staging growth as both promise and threat. A rectangular steel tank holds duckweed, a fast-replicating aquatic plant often treated as invasive due to its dense mats that block sunlight and deplete oxygen. Two horizontal towers release a thick, viscous liquid in continuous threads, introducing an artificial rhythm of stimulation into the system.
Duckweed occupies a paradoxical position in contemporary science: a biological nuisance on Earth, yet increasingly explored as a potential source of food and fuel for long-term space missions. In Insomnia, Liu holds this tension in delicate balance. Growth is relentless but unsustainable; fertility becomes pressure rather than abundance, while the continuous rainfall of viscous liquid signals technological insistence. The work asks how natural processes are reshaped under constant optimization, and what risks emerge when efficiency overrides ecological and systemic balance.

The Body that Opens,2023, Sculpture (bronze, glass, aluminum, customized cooling systems), 190.5 x 53.3 x 27.9 cm If Insomnia examines overproduction as metabolic strain, Liu’s series of mixed-media sculptures Cry:0 approaches the opposite: suspension. Sculptural forms embedded with cooling systems cause frost to form across surfaces, referencing cryonics and egg freezing—technologies that interrupt life cycles in the name of preservation. The works also evoke research into subglacial lakes in Antarctica and ice-covered moons, where probes search for traces of ancient life.

Overgrowth, 2025, Sculpture (silicone, bronze, aluminum, customized cooling system), 134 x 93 x 11 cm In Cry:0, life is neither allowed to grow nor decay; it is held in escrow. Preservation appears as care but enacts control. Freezing biological processes postpones the future rather than resolving it. Seen alongside Insomnia, Cry:0 functions as metabolic prehistory: an earlier attempt to manage life by slowing it down, contrasting with later pressures to accelerate and multiply. Both gestures—excess and suspension—reveal how technological systems intervene in life’s rhythms, often denying the possibility of change altogether.

Towards the Light, 2025, Encaustic medium, pigments, silk threads, 900 x 1525 x 55 mm The pressure of technological systems becomes intimate in Liu’s Encaustic Series, where scale shifts from ecosystem to body. Composed of beeswax and tree resin, materials historically associated with permanence, works such as Towards the Light (2025) adopt an ancient technique while refusing traditional portraiture or landscape. Embedded silk threads form branching networks resembling roots, fossilized plants, or capillaries beneath the skin.
Here, the body is treated as terrain—mapped, structured, and constrained. Drawing inspiration from Han Kang’s The Vegetarian, Liu examines how female identity is shaped by biological and cultural demands. Modern agriculture forces plants to flower and fruit unnaturally; the female body is often caught between ideals of freedom and regimes of control. By refusing figuration and rendering the self through material code, Liu questions the limits of self-authorship in an age of boundless data and perpetual advancement.

Common Rue, 2025, Encaustic medium, pigments, silk threads. 910 x 610 x 55 mm Across her practice, Liu’s engagement with science is neither symbolic nor distant. Trained as an engineer and drawing on her experience as founding Arts Curator of the Space Exploration Initiative at the MIT Media Lab, as well as her role as Visiting Fellow at Cornell Tech (2024-25), she has led payloads to the International Space Station, launched suborbital experiments, and worked directly within scientific laboratories. These sites become spaces of speculation rather than proof, and her critique emerges from proximity rather than refusal. “I think the so-called high tech is a façade,” she observes. “Everything boils down to simple ideas in physics and math. It’s about whether we understand technology or not. There’s no separation between human life and technology.”
Time in Liu’s work resists linearity. Her sculptures are not oriented toward the future nor nostalgic for the past. They occupy recursive, suspended, entropic temporalities. Space appears not as a horizon but as an archive cluttered with debris, frozen matter, and fading signals. The future, in this view, is already overgrown.
Cosmic Metabolism operates not as a theme, but as a method—long-term, iterative, and unresolved. It links space science, biology, data systems, and human desire into a single circuit, tracing how technological life sustains itself and where it begins to fail. Returning to the circulating residue—the overgrown tank, the frozen surface, the satellite transmitting past relevance—Liu’s work offers neither spectacle nor transcendence. Instead, it testifies to a world in which systems, human and technological alike, learn too late to coexist with their own limits. In her hands, decay, suspension, and excess are not endings, but evidence of life in flux, and of the intricate, often unseen metabolic currents that shape the world around us.
Text by Chantel Shiah, Asian Art Contemporary
Image courtesy of the artist and Public Gallery, London
Portrait of Xin Liu. Photo by Wenxuan Wang. Courtesy of the Xin Liu Studio LTD, London and Make Room Gallery, Los Angeles. Website: https://xinliu.art/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/xin_liu_studio/
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Asian Art Contemporary Presents Group Exhibition Time Lag, Exploring Identity and the Perception of Time
From March 4 to March 31, 2026, Time Lag, a group exhibition presented by Asian Art Contemporary and supported by the Asian Artists Center, is on view at the Sasse Museum of Art in California. Curated by Dr. Huixian Dong, the exhibition brings together works by five artists active in the contemporary art scene: Hannah Bang, Jennifer Ling Datchuk, Yezi Lou, Sigrid Qian, and Shuai Xu. Taking “Time Lag” as a concept that encompasses both physical experience and psychological perception, the exhibition examines the delays, suspensions, and dislocations people encounter as they move across geographic borders, cultural contexts, and structures of identity.

Poster credit: Asian Art Contemporary “Time Lag” originally refers to the interval between one arrival and the next that has not yet occurred. For travelers—especially those who continuously cross borders, whether literal national boundaries or metaphorical cultural and psychological ones—this “time lag” is not merely a matter of adjusting clocks, but a state of being that can never be fully synchronized. It is not simply a depiction of “in-betweenness,” nor merely an emphasis on difference. Rather, it points to a liminal moment of near-arrival that never fully becomes arrival: a state marked by both a strong desire for transformation and the repeated encounter with absence, ambiguity, and disorientation.

Time Lag, Installation view, Courtesy of Asian Art Contemporary As curator of the exhibition, Dong notes: “This exhibition explores the idea of the rhetorical capture of a state of ‘quasi-arrival yet a keen desire for complete transition,’ borrowing from the everyday experience of travelers, especially those who cross borders, where the embodied sense of time may diverge from the physical time measured by the clock. It is also inspired by the embodied experiences of the Asian art diaspora as well as the tragicomedy of Waiting for Godot, in which the anticipated arrival is, in fact, never coming.”

Time Lag, Opening reception, Courtesy of Asian Art Contemporary Centered on this proposition, the exhibition unfolds through three interconnected sections. The first, “Dream and Reality,” begins with the imaginative framework of the fairy tale The Story of Jack Spriggins and the Enchanted Bean, opening an unstable boundary between fantasy and reality. In Sigrid Qian’s paintings, thorned stalks continue to grow and extend, while goose-yellow and mysterious forms reach into unknown space, as if pulling reality toward a cosmic dimension not yet arrived at. Her imagery carries both the vitality of plant life and an unnameable alterity, causing viewers to oscillate between familiarity and estrangement. These surreal images do not offer direct answers; instead, through floating, spreading, and uncertain forms, they render “arrival” itself ambiguous and difficult to confirm.

Time Lag, Opening reception, Courtesy of Asian Art Contemporary The second section, “Collective Memory and Individual Narrative,” focuses on the inscription of identity within the experiences of Asian diasporic communities. Here, memories shaped by collective culture, native language, and social structure intertwine with individual growth, migration, and bodily perception. Jennifer Ling Datchuk’s video work addresses the critical and provocative process through which society “tames” the gendered body, in which braided hair coiled like a saddle becomes a highly symbolic visual form. By placing the body, adornment, and discipline side by side, her work reveals not only how the female body is viewed and shaped by society, but also the complex relations among tenderness, obedience, and repression.
Also in this section, Yezi Lou’s paintings turn toward personal experience and childhood imagery. Cultural memories that should feel intimate instead appear distant and unfamiliar in her work, as though memory itself has undergone a subtle but persistent displacement across time and geography. Through this visual language—at once affectionate and distorted—she touches upon a common emotion in diasporic experience: when one looks back at the past, familiar things no longer fully belong to the self they once did.

Time Lag, Installation view, Courtesy of Asian Art Contemporary Hannah Bang’s performance practice reveals how artistic creation exists through bodily experience. As she moves through new environments and communities, creation itself becomes an embodied practice. Her work does not simply represent “movement”; rather, it allows the body to truly endure adaptation, pause, and imbalance within unfamiliar surroundings, transforming these subtle sensations into artistic language. What remains is a bodily memory of displacement, one closely tied to the condition experienced by many Asian diasporic communities—being perpetually seen as the “eternal outsider.”

Time Lag, Installation view, Courtesy of Asian Art Contemporary The third section, “Rationality and Chaos,” extends the discussion from time into space. Materials, installations, and geometric structures initially suggest rational order, yet in the act of viewing and perceiving, space itself proves unstable. Shuai Xu’s work juxtaposes geometric clarity with fragmented installation, reflecting a reality that constantly wavers between order and disorientation. Structures that appear calm and precise do not ultimately provide stability; instead, through combination and rupture, they generate new forms of uncertainty. It is precisely within this tension that viewers come to sense that “time lag” exists not only on a temporal level, but also within the disjunctions of spatial perception, bodily experience, and judgments of reality.
Rather than offering a clear answer to “diaspora,” “migration,” or “identity,” Time Lag invites viewers to remain in that unfinished yet continuously unfolding moment: between arrival and absence, between familiarity and estrangement, between expectation and loss. In doing so, the exhibition asks us to reconsider how we perceive time, how we imagine belonging, and how we confront identities that remain perpetually in formation.

Time Lag, Opening reception, Courtesy of Asian Art Contemporary The exhibition has received attention and promotion from several media outlets, including LA Post and The New York Today. Richard Ren, cultural critic of LA Post, remarked: “In today’s globalized context, cultural identity is fluid. What we are seeing is not merely a statement of ‘Asian art abroad,’ but how mobility reshapes imagination, memory, and the meaning of ‘home.’” Curator Huixian Dong also stated: “It is such an honor to collaborate with our wonderful artists and with Asian Art Contemporary. This exhibition is another attempt in my curatorial practice to engage with philosophy, identity, and social issues.” Curator Webson Ji, who served as the producer of this exhibition, also expressed his high expectations: “Whether in New York or Los Angeles, the Asian diaspora art community has long been an integral part of the contemporary Asian art ecosystem. This dialogue I have produced seeks to bridge contemporary Asian art across the East and West Coasts of the United States, while also providing a platform for active Asian artists worldwide to fully present their work.”
Text by Jianing Lu, Image and text courtesy of Asian Art Contemporary
Exhibition Dates
March 4–31, 2026Curator
Huixian Dong, Ph.D.Artists
Hannah Bang, Jennifer Ling Datchuk, Yezi Lou, Sigrid Qian, Shuai XuCuratorial Assistants
Xinyue Zhang, Jianing LuProducer
Webson JiSupporting Organizations
Asian Artists Center, Sasse Museum of Art
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Listening to the Now: Eight Artists Reframing Asian Contemporary Art in 2025

In the slow unfolding of 2025, the contemporary art landscape revealed itself through a constellation of practices that pushed, pulled, and reimagined the boundaries of form, material, and lived experience. Within the evolving ecology of Asian contemporary art, this year unfolded as a site of negotiation between inherited histories and speculative futures, between localized knowledge and global circulation. Rather than a singular movement, 2025 revealed an attentiveness to multiplicity, where artists moved fluidly across geographies while remaining deeply tethered to place, lineage, and lived context.
Below are eight artists who have shaped the trajectory of contemporary Asian art in 2025. Working across sculpture, painting, ceramics, sound, and hybrid modes, each bringing a distinct language to bear on the relevant issues that weighed on us all this year. What binds them is not a singular aesthetic but a shared insistence on art as a space of reflection, rupture, and renewal.

GWON Osang, Reclining Figure-Watch, 2022-2023, Archival pigment print, mixed media, 192 x 52 x 88 cm, ⓒ GWON Osang. Courtesy of the Artist and Arario Gallery GWON Osang
Seoul-based sculptor GWON Osang continues a decades-long inquiry into what sculpture might become when unshackled from its own traditions. Across his ongoing series, Deodorant Type, The Sculpture, New Structure, and Relief, Osang dissolves the weightiness of classical materiality, replacing it with photographic skin and aluminum frameworks that gesture toward both surface and depth. Within the lineage of postwar Korean sculpture, marked by both material rigor and conceptual restraint, Osang’s practice stands apart for its insistence on hybridity and illusion. In 2025, his work appeared in group exhibitions at institutions like Arko Art Center in Seoul, a year-long collaborative project with Roy Gallery’s new venue PS ROY in Seoul, and was featured at Art Busan with ARARIO Gallery, which has been central to his international representation. Osang’s practice persists in its quiet destabilization of expectations, inviting viewers to feel the present age through the “margin” of sculpture itself.

Kawita Vatanajyankur, The Machine Ghost in the Human Shell, 4K Video and Holographic installation, 2024 Kawita Vatanajyankur
Media and performance artist Kawita Vatanajyankur expanded her practice this year into immersive projects that probe the systemic forces shaping labor and the body. Rooted in global capitalism’s unseen mechanisms, the Bangkok-based artist’s ongoing series, such as Performing Textiles and Field Work, alongside new 2025 works like Flight and Echoes, give form to the often invisible lives entangled in production, exploitation, and ecological collapse. Her work resonates strongly within Southeast Asia’s artistic landscape, where questions of labor, gender, and extractive economies are deeply embedded in everyday life. Vatanajyankur’s projects traveled widely in 2025, engaging public consciousness through collaborations with technologists, activists, and researchers. These conversations inspired curators to include her work in exhibitions across Asia and beyond, including Believe in a River at Guangdong’s Hengqin Cultural and Art Center and Protest is a Creative Act at the Museum of Australian Photography. These developments signal a growing institutional recognition of performance-based practices emerging from the region, culminating in preparations for her upcoming solo exhibition at Shanghai’s Yuz Museum in 2026.

Quan Lim, Stony Sleep, 2025, Oil on canvas, 121.9 x 152.4 cm, Courtesy of the artist and Cuturi Gallery, Singapore Quan Lim
In Singapore, painter Quan Lim emerged in 2025 with The Flood, a major solo exhibition of a new body of work at Cuturi Gallery in Singapore that deepened his interrogation of identity, myth, and narrative fragmentation. Using layered, gestural surfaces and figurative fragments drawn from art history, mythology, and everyday life, Lim’s work inhabits moments of rupture where memory and history collide, where storytelling becomes a way of understanding the self and others. Operating within Singapore’s tightly calibrated cultural ecosystem, Lim’s practice opens space for ambiguity, emotion, and dissent. His paintings this year, dense with allegory and dissonance, reflect a practice attuned to the instability of existence, conveyed through richly textured canvases that resist easy resolution.

Sun Yitian, Storm, 2025, Acrylic on canvas, 205.4 x 158.4 cm, Courtesy the artist and Esther Schipper, Berlin/Paris/Seoul, Photo © Andrea Rossetti Sun Yitian
Sun Yitian is a Beijing-based painter who continued her ascent this year. Her highly detailed depictions of quotidian objects turn toward ever more expansive explorations of desire, commodity, and cultural imagination. Known for hyper-real surfaces that oscillate between seduction and unease, Yitian’s works engage the deep structures of consumer society while reflecting personal history and collective nostalgia. Her 2025 exhibitions, including The Life of Things at Museum Voorlinden in The Hague, As She Descends with Qinhuangdao’s Aranya Art Center, and a solo show Romantic Room at Esther Schipper Gallery’s Berlin space, underscore how artists from China continue to navigate global visibility while retaining a sharp critique of spectacle and excess. This year reinforced her international profile and demonstrated her remarkable ability to render “thingness” itself into a language of the psychological with new, personally resonating depths for the artist.

Dae Uk Kim, NORI totem, 2023, Synthetic hair, color rope, Dimensions variable, © Hyundai Motor Company Dae Uk Kim
Based in Eindhoven, sculptor and storyteller Dae Uk Kim’s practice is a testament to the power of form to articulate the diverse narratives of identity and body politics. Kim weaves personal history with broader ecological and social registers, transforming materials like synthetic hair, ropes, and hybrid forms into embodiments of lived multiplicity. As a Korean artist working across Europe and Asia, Kim’s work reflects a diasporic condition increasingly visible in contemporary Asian art. In 2025, his practice broadened through collaborations with artists and brands alongside public dialogues that animate sculpture as an exchange between body, memory, and environment. His work had been exhibited in shows including Can the Monster Speak? with Delft’s RADIUS CCA, Check In, the Forgotten Guest at Gallery Remicon in Jeju, South Korea, The Tail by Maison the Fuax hosted by Framer Framed in Amsterdam, Fragments of Form at DOEN in Rotterdam, The Body Project presented in Munich, and a solo show with OSISUN in Seoul titled Grandma’s Cabinet. Kim’s work resonates as both introspective and outward-facing, with larger steps towards collective dialogues this year and anticipatory projects that extend beyond the field of sculpture into immersive, interdisciplinary presentations in the future.

Lisa Chang Lee, World Atlas No.7, 2024, A series of 10 collages combining analog photographs, textiles, pencil drawing, vintage notebook, mapping pins, cutouts from World Atlas, and Post-it stickers, 55 × 70 cm each Lisa Chang Lee
Working between London and Beijing, Lisa Chang Lee’s interdisciplinary practice this year spanned across sound, ecology, language, and technology. Through field research, installation, and AI-informed processes, her work examines listening as a political and poetic act, attuning audiences to the subtle interdependencies that shape environments and histories. Positioned within broader conversations around environmental degradation and knowledge systems in East Asia, her practice foregrounds care, slowness, and relationality. A founder of the ongoing research platform South of the Sea, Chang Lee’s projects in 2025 spanned institutional exhibitions and ecological storytelling frameworks that emphasize indigenous knowledge and collective listening. A selection of her recent projects was on view this year at the He Xiangning Museum of Art, followed by the Guangzhou Image Triennial and, in 2027, at the Beijing Art, Science, and Technology Biennale. Her work continually foregrounds the entanglement of place, memory, and perception, leveraging her research and interdisciplinary collaborations to ask us to consider how art might become a medium of care.

Takuma Uematsu, SCULPTOR’S SNACK, 2025, Tin can, corn kernels , 11.3 x 7.6 x 7.6 cm, Open editon © Takuma Uematsu, Courtesy of Yumiko Chiba Associates Takuma Uematsu
Building upon the Fluxus-inspired playfulness and philosophical curiosity that have guided him for decades, Osaka-based artist Takuma Uematsu embraced his move to embody energy and coincidence in his practice this year. Through sculpture, installation, and relational works, Uematsu explores boundaries between object, viewer, and environment, privileging encounter over completion. His practice occupies a unique position within Japanese contemporary art, where humor and conceptual rigor coexist as modes of quiet resistance. His 2025 project, The Sculptor’s Snack, considered the dynamics of everyday materials and communal experience, inviting laughter, reflection, and dialogue, and was presented as part of the WE THE DAY exhibition at the OAG Art Center Kobe.

Yin-chen Li, View from the bottom No. 12, 2024, Ceramic with copper, tin, acrylic frame, 39.2 x 31.2 x 4.6 cm, Photo credit: Tu Yue-shiuan Yin-chen Li
In Taipei, Yin-chen Li’s ceramics practice this year advanced an intimate inquiry into perception, psyche, and material responsiveness. Blending gestural mark-making with the unpredictable nature of clay and firing processes, Li’s work captures fracture, displacement, and fusion as metaphors for relational dynamics between viewer and form, interior and exterior, control and chance. Within the context of contemporary Taiwanese ceramics, her practice bridges craft lineage and conceptual abstraction. Each piece operates as both trace and threshold, inviting viewers into an active encounter with material embodiment. Her work was presented as part of the Piecing Landscapes: Experience in Layers at Gallery Unfold in Kyoto, featured in the Art Osaka 2025 contemporary art fair, in a solo exhibition titled Next Art Tainan: Hidden Sea at SOKA Arts, and was the Tainan New Arts Award winner.
Across these eight practices, 2025 witnessed art that was simultaneously rigorous and tender. Their work held contradictions without dissolving them, which honored both form and fugitive experience. Seen together, these artists offer a snapshot of contemporary Asian art as a field defined not by uniformity, but by complexity, one shaped by migration, memory, and material consciousness. Whether through the layered narratives of paint, the corporeal provocations of performance and video, the sculptural interchanges of material and identity, or the resonant listening evoked by sound and ecology, this year in contemporary art affirmed a generative possibility: that art’s deepest work remains its capacity to hold us in reflection, and in reflection, to invite transformation.
Review by Shannon Permenter
Shannon Permenter is a freelance writer and art historian based in Arizona. After completing her Masters in History & Theory of Contemporary Art from the San Francisco Art Institute she has channeled her passion for the arts into a career helping artists, curators, and nonprofits share their work with the world.
Interviews with Asian Art Contemporary
- GWON Osang: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/09/05/interview-seoul-based-artist-gwon-osang/
- Kawita Vatanajyankur: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/03/03/interview-bangkok-based-artist-kawita-vatanajyankur/
- Quan Lim: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/11/04/interview-singapore-based-artist-quan-lim/
- Sun Yitian: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/06/23/interview-beijing-based-artist-sun-yitian/
- Dae Uk Kim: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/11/18/interview-eindhoven-based-artist-dae-uk-kim/
- Lisa Chang Lee: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/07/15/interview-london-and-beijing-based-artist-lisa-chang-lee/
- Takuma Uematsu: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/08/13/interview-osaka-based-artist-takuma-uematsu/
- Yin-chen Li: https://asianartcontemporary.com/2025/06/26/interview-taipei-based-artist-yin-chen-li/


