• Interview | Bandung-Based Artist Mira Rizki

    Interview | Bandung-Based Artist Mira Rizki

    Mira Rizki (b.1994, Bandung, Indonesia) is a multidisciplinary artist working with sound and interactive components based in Bandung, Indonesia. Sensitive to the shape and perception of sound, she explores how different backgrounds, environments, and memories shape our auditory experiences. Her work highlights how each person perceives sound uniquely, often experimenting with aural memory and soundscapes to create immersive compositions. She is involved in several exhibitions, such as “Menggodam” at Ilham Gallery [Kuala Lumpur] 2025, Indonesia Pavilion at Gwangju Biennale 2024 (as a contributor artist) and “Walking Wandering” 2023 at Asia Culture Center (ACC) [Gwangju], “Present Continuous” at MACAN museum [Jakarta] 2021, “RRRAWRRR!!! 2022: ARUS” – Maybank’s Southeast Asian Emerging Women Artist Exhibition at Maybank Virtual Art Gallery [Kuala Lumpur] 2022, “There is No Center” at ROH Project [Jakarta] 2025 and “Bandung Contemporary Art Award #6” at Lawangwangi Creative Space [Bandung] 2019. She also had her residencies and exhibitions at Aomori Contemporary Art Centre (ACAC) in Aomori [Japan] 2019, and Barim in Gwangju [South Korea] 2023.

    She graduated from Bandung Institute of Technology, Intermedia Art Studio, and had her exchange program at Hochschule für Bildende Künste Braunschweig.

    Bengap dalam Senyap (Muffled in Silence), 2025, Aluminium cans, aluminium wires, petroleum drum, safe, ammunition box, aluminium boiler, speaker, Variable dimensions

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

    I was born and grew up in Bandung, Indonesia. Since I was a little kid, I was introduced to art through drawing by my father, even though no one in the family has an art background (most of them are economists and ulama—Islamic scholars). I pursued my drawing skills during my teenage years, while having a band with some friends. I just realized that I like to play music too. Once I had a dream to become a rock star, hehe.

    Until I began to study at Bandung Institute of Technology in the Faculty of Art and Design, I enrolled as an Intermedia Art student. At college, I met lots of amazing art students, and one of them who inspired me the most to become a sound artist was Etza Meisyara (an Indonesian Artist). She showed me how to involve music as part of the sound in visual artworks. It was really nice to know that I can work with both of my two favorite practices, visual art and music (later I more recognize it as sound).

    Then I began to get to know and understand this medium further. I tried to embrace sound by articulating my thoughts through sound installations, sound sculptures, conceptual works, and even my experimental band with its sound performances. I started to feel that sound is capable of transmitting my ideas in a genuine way.

    In the process of being consistent as an artist, I felt I wavered. I have to be realistic to survive myself and my family, I couldn’t depend only on my art practice to fulfill our financial needs. Especially, becoming an artist who mainly works with sound in Indonesia is not easy to penetrate the art scene. So I have to do other work like teaching kids to draw, become the lecturer’s assistant at my college, until I start to do the office work for the film and game industry in Jakarta, while doing my art practice on the weekends. I manage to keep consistent with my art practice even though I have to do 9-6 office work and sometimes become overwhelmed, but I enjoy it. I started to feel that I work not only for survival needs but also for my art. It is worth doing.

    Early this year, I just resigned from my office work because the company was collapsing, so I braced myself to focus on my art practice. Now, I feel grateful to find a ‘quiet path’ to evolve and focus more on my artistic career. I thought I wanted to chase my dream of becoming fully dedicated as an artist.

    Denting dalam Bising (Clink in the Noise), 2017, Aluminium tins, stainless wires, metal pipes, metal gears, motorcycle wheel, 12.8 x 12.8 x 1.85 m

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

    I used to do a grounding process, where I could feel like I really lived in the moment, observing tiny things, and playing around in my everyday life. I also love walking around in a new place, like in a city that I visit. I try to explore places that might be interesting to be ‘present’ there. Recently, I was moving from one place to another for work, and I treated that moment just like an artist residency. I tend to be very curious to visit unique yet peculiar places.

    I used to interact with the local people, and sometimes some of them don’t hesitate to share their personal stories with me. I understand that basically, people want to be heard. I always bring my sketch book, cellphone, and recorder to record any experience and thoughts that I obtain from the visit. I am positioning myself as a newcomer and always want to know what’s happening. This helps me a lot to be more sensitive and aware to absorb any inspiration from my surroundings and convey it through the artwork.

    Sometimes, people see me strangely while doing this. They would like to talk to me and have a conversation with me, because they are curious. And it helps me to collect some data that I need for my artwork.

    Main, 2017 – present, Aluminium baking tins, metal pipe clamps, stainless wire, piezoelectric microphones, sound systems, aluminium plates, and specific-site sands, Variable dimensions

    Are there any particular mediums you prefer working with? Why?

    I love to work with sound! Regarding its physical form or the conceptual idea about it, and its nature as an impermanent element. I found it special, because it is intangible at the surface, but it has a lot to tell as we go deeper. By sound, I have the authority to imagine what is happening in my mind, it is very mutable for everyone. It depends on how people perceive with their own backgrounds, situations, and stimuli. Moreover, sound becomes a sign of something that is present and happening to me.

    I have an interest in exposing the mechanical and physical way the sound is created. This encourages me to know the characteristics of the materials and techniques to produce the sound.

    Menjejak Jejak (Retracing the Traces), 2025, Soils, found objects, and sound systems, Variables dimensions

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

    For me personally, being surrounded by too much stimulation sometimes makes me overwhelmed, especially with the political, economic, and social situation in Indonesia nowadays. I need to choose my path really carefully by educating myself, and know how I am supposed to communicate through my artistic practice. Sometimes I take a break just to clear my mind and emotions. But creating art will always be my escape plan to express my idea without speaking of it directly. 

    Another realistic challenge is to be sustainable to keep creating art while you have another job to manage. When I was a salaried woman in a company, I spent my weekends and leave days on my art practice. I was amazingly exhausted, but I love it. I feel like stepping into another stage of being an artist. So I keep motivated to be better at managing my professions. Even after I resigned from my office, I still need to do some freelance jobs, and I have gotten used to managing my time and being effective. Also, working in other disciplines has broadened my perspective beyond just being an artist. It was a valuable experience. I never regret it.

    Napak Tilas, 2023, Jakarta & Gwangju urban sounds, found domestic cardboards, and sound systems, Variables dimensions, Images by Asia Culture Center Gwangju

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

    I understand that my piece in any exhibition space is always gonna involve the other intangible aspects, such as the artistic experience of the audience on site, the site situation, and the effects that might be generated when the piece interacts with the site. I always strive to make my piece respond to its space beyond acoustic space and sonic experience; the narratives are always embedded in their artistic experience within the artwork space.

    I tend to configure my piece in the public space to ignite any critical thoughts of the audience regarding the space and moment of my idea, and what they perceive. I am aware that a space has its own narrative layers, and that element will create more dialogue with my piece and the point of view from the audience when they perceive the artwork.

    Mini Set, 2019, Mini 4WD gears, tyres, chassis, motor, AA batteries, cutting mat, nails, and teak blocks, 15 x 15 x 15 cm

    What do you hope people take away from your art when they experience it?

    I just want them to be ‘present’, aware that we have a limited time to experience something. I want them to acknowledge a new perspective from my piece regarding the context of space and the process that they have been through when they immerse themselves in the artwork. I hope their artistic experience can help them to reflect on themself from what they encounter during the perceiving process.  I wonder if the impermanent sound that amplified in the piece will echo in their conversation even when they leave the exhibition space.

    Text & photo courtesy of Mira Rizki

    Photo credit: Yudha Kusuma Putera

    Website: https://mirarizkik.me/
    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mirarizkik/


  • Interview | Tianjin-Based Artist Fan Huaxiao

    Interview | Tianjin-Based Artist Fan Huaxiao

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

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

    Present, 2024, Oil on canvas, 60 x 70 cm

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

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

    Fertility and Carnival, 2024, Oil on canvas, 100 x 120 cm

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

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

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

    Love letter, 2025, Oil on canvas, 100 x 130 cm

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

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

    Ghost, 2025, Oil on canvas, 100 x 140 cm

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

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

    Misalignment, 2025, Oil on canvas, 80 x 100 cm

    How do your personal experiences and identity influence your art?

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

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

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

    Discriminating mind, 2025, Oil on canvas, 60 x 60 cm

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

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

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

    Text & photo courtesy of Fanhua Xiao

    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/fan_huaxiao/


  • Interview | London-Based Artist Vanessa Liem

    Interview | London-Based Artist Vanessa Liem

    Vanessa Liem (b. 2002, Singapore) is currently based in London. She received a BA from the University of the Arts London in 2025. Liem’s work has been exhibited internationally, including a solo exhibition, For The Time Being, at Cuturi Gallery and group exhibitions such as Art SG at Sands and Expo Convention Centre in Singapore and Coalesce at Copeland Gallery and Before Now, After Then at Bargehouse Gallery in London. For her work, Liem received the UOB 38th Painting of the Year Emerging Artist Gold Award and was named one of Prestige’s 40 under 40 in 2024.

    Grippers, 2023, Oil on canvas, 210 x 130 cm

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

    I was born and raised in Singapore and moved to London in 2022 to pursue an art degree. Now I’m painting full-time in a studio at Herne Hill, South London. I started my artistic journey in primary school, when I first discovered YouTube. That was my introduction to painting. I remember watching painting tutorial time-lapses at 0.5 speed, pausing every few seconds to try my best to copy what the artist was doing. My fascination with painting and art began there.

    Underground Feeders, 2025, Oil on canvas, 200 x 160 cm

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

    My work stems from my mental health and branches out into ideas of perception, observing and being observed, power and performance. Through the interplay of the surreal and real, the figures I paint are always hyper-aware of the audience’s gaze and how their own bodies occupy a certain space. Whether they reject, embrace, are unconcerned or are simply immobilised by this gaze, I try not to pigeonhole these women into being one thing. That’s perhaps an entry point to view my work. Painting for me is a stage to navigate but also play, it becomes a space where the psychological and physical awareness of the body, mine and others, intensifies.

    The House is a Body, 2025, Oil on canvas, 200 x 160 cm

    How has your artistic style evolved over time?

    My work used to be very explicitly sci-fi inspired. I would create these shiny aliens that would inhabit other worlds. These worlds felt entirely detached from humanity, it was their own alien universe. That was during COVID-19, when I was in a very isolated headspace. But now, mywork feels more rooted in everyday life; the settings I place my figures in exist in my personal life. My childhood home, my bathroom, the park I walk through every day to my studio, elements of them come out in my work. I also see the body quite differently as I have grown older, the body to me now encompasses not just human form but also the environment it inhabits. The space around them becomes a body as well, it becomes a sentient being with emotions. That’s how I tend to approach a painting, seeing each whole painting as a soul and an extension of the self, with warmth and coldness unfolding within, in between and around body and space.

    Lightbath I, 2024, Oil on canvas, 152.5 x 122 cm

    How do you balance visual aesthetics with conceptual depth in your artworks?

    I would have a central theme that umbrellas everything. I don’t really think too much about what each painting specifically means in the beginning. I tend to go for a specific vibe or mood, and maybe two or three keywords that I associate with the piece.

    Visuals usually come first, and I let them fester in my mind for a bit, letting them grow and change how they want to. I have always believed that a specific image will demand a way to be painted, and you just gotta let it do its own thing; it’s a way of allowing my subconscious to tell me things instead of trying to control everything.

    Once the clearer image forms, specific ideas and concepts flow in and out. During the painting process, the image and concept would develop simultaneously, sometimes at different speeds but they would slowly align themselves with each other in the end. Sometimes, it could take a few days or up to many many months after a painting is finished, and then it just clicks – I finally understand what the painting, or I guess myself, is trying to tell me.

    But even so, the concepts of my work change over time. For me, a painting has multiple lives. Depending on when or what is happening in your life, you can see the same image in a whole other way, so I see a lot of my work as pretty open-ended, it doesn’t always have to end the same way it started.

    The Only Thing that Comforted Me was the Water Turning Warm, 2024, Oil on linen, 40.5 x 30 cm

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

    The art world can be very polarising, the process of making art versus the selling, exhibitions, networking, competition, and actually trying to make it can be quite disorientating. Especially moving to London, where everything is everywhere, everyone is always doing something, and there are millions of artists fighting to make it, everything is always moving very quickly. When you place something as intimate, slow, tedious and introspective as art making into an industry of speed, it can make you feel like you’re never doing enough, and that you’re somehow running out of time, and I’m only 23. And in my experience, this self-doubt can creep into my studio work without even me realising it. Thankfully, I have supportive people around me to snap me out of it. I am still trying to overcome this. I try to set smaller goals for myself to celebrate, like finishing a painting or bringing myself to the studio even when I don’t feel like it at all. But, really, the best thing for me is talking to the ones I love, it forces me out of my own head.

    From Blue to Yellow, From Yellow to Pink, 2024, Oil on linen, 180 x 155 cm

    Are there any new directions, collaborations, or concepts you’re excited to explore next?

    I’m currently working on my solo show set for May 2026, with Cuturi Gallery in Singapore. I’m excited to consolidate my developments over the past few years and work towards a cohesive body of work. One of the main focal points of this show is light. How different types of light can imply different things in the context of my work. For example, natural light versus artificial light, external light sources versus light illuminated from within.

    I recently went to an exhibition by Eva Helene Pade at Thaddaeus Ropac, where she mentioned how oil paint is not only a medium to render flesh but to dissipate it equally. This really resonated with me. As I grow older, experience the life I’m living, you know, see more things, feel more things, the idea of the female body for me will never stop developing and changing with different ideas of how it can be perceived through painting.

    Text & photo courtesy of Vanessa Liem

    Website: https://www.vanessaliem.art
    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/vnesliem/


  • Interview | Changwon-Based Artist Chaeeun Mun

    Interview | Changwon-Based Artist Chaeeun Mun

    Chaeeun Mun is a South Korean artist who holds a master’s degree in Oil Painting from the China Academy of Art (CAA).

    Her work explores human relationships and inner emotions, transforming heavy and negative feelings into light, expressive forms through the motif of wind. Through her paintings, she visualizes inner emotions and negative psychological states, offering expressions that release suppressed feelings.

    She held solo exhibitions at Xi’an Museum (Xi’an, China), Bird Gallery and Aurora Museum (Shanghai, China), and Dooin Gallery (Seoul, Korea), and a duo exhibition at Moosey Art (Norwich, UK). Her work is held in the following collections:  Aurora Museum (Shanghai), Xi’an Museum (Xi’an).

    I’m not fine, 2025, Oil on canvas, 100 x 150 cm, © Bird Gallery

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

    I feel there was hardly a time in my life when I wasn’t drawing.

    Though the form has changed over the years, drawing has always been a constant companion. As a child, I loved copying characters from comics, and later I studied design and worked for over ten years as a visual designer.

    At some point, I wanted to create a new turning point in my life and decided to pursue the dream I had as a child. I began my graduate studies, and coincidentally, it was during the pandemic — a time that allowed me to fully immerse myself in painting while living in China.

    The unexpected isolation and changes in my surroundings turned out to be a period of deep introspection. Those experiences became the foundation that shaped the way I work today.

    Each One’s Hill, 2024, Oil on canvas, 180 x 150 cm

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

    My work begins with the exploration of how suppressed emotions within human relationships can be released. In our society, efficiency and productivity are prioritized, and in that fast-paced environment, feelings such as sadness, anger, or melancholy are often considered unproductive and easily suppressed. I focus on the unconscious emotional repression hidden within the casual phrase “I’m fine.”

    The tangled hair in my paintings symbolizes the negative gazes, environments, or emotional states that burden us. It is not something to be controlled or refined; rather, it is a natural part of our existence. By embracing this “tangledness,” I aim to depict moments of emotional release and authentic self-acceptance, free from societal pressures demanding neatness and order.

    For me, the wind acts as a language of emotion, a medium through which suppressed feelings are liberated. Through painting, I explore human relationships and inner emotions, transforming heavy and negative feelings into light, expressive forms.

    I’m not fine, 2025, Oil on canvas, 150 x 130 cm

    How do your personal experiences and identity influence your art?

    Personal experience and identity form the foundation of my work.

    I visualize the flow and release of emotions through my own experiences and the East Asian identity shaped by human relationships. I’m particularly drawn to the tendency in East Asian cultures to suppress emotional expression, and I explore the quiet ways those emotions eventually find release.

    This theme became more personal through a specific experience. During a trip, I had a small argument with a close friend. On the last day, we went up a mountain observatory as planned, even though the wind was fierce and rain began to fall. The view was completely hidden by fog, and our hair was a mess from the wind. But when we saw each other’s tangled faces, we burst into laughter. The tension between us melted away, replaced by a sense of ease and relief.

    We couldn’t see the view we expected, yet that day became the most memorable part of the trip. Since then, the motif of “wind” has filled my paintings.

    I’m not fine, 2025, Oil on Canvas, 162.2 x 130.3 cm

    What role do you believe art plays in social and cultural change?

    Art provides a point of transformation in the way we think.

    It softens rigid ideas and opens up new interpretations of familiar things and emotions.
    The emotions conveyed through art are never simple — they contain multiple layers that encourage us to see the world beyond its surface and expand our capacity for empathy.

    I believe that while art may not change society immediately, it has the power to shift perspectives and emotions.

    Such changes in feeling and thought can inspire new ideas and creativity, leading to deeper understanding and acceptance within society.

    In this way, art becomes a quiet yet enduring force that helps guide the world toward greater openness and compassion.

    I’m not fine, 2025, Oil on canvas, 70 x 100 cm

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

    The most challenging part for me is managing time. Since I spend most of my days working alone, it’s not easy to keep a steady flow of concentration. To create a rhythm, I set my own deadlines and structure my daily routine around them. When my focus starts to fade, I use alarms — set at one-hour intervals — to divide work and rest time. Repeating cycles of focus and pause helps me stay productive and also brings new ideas to the surface.

    For me, managing time is not just about efficiency; it’s a way of refining the quality of my work and keeping inspiration alive.

    The Wind’s Wish, 2025, Oil on Canvas, 162 x 112 cm

    What do you hope people take away from your art when they experience it?

    I don’t wish for viewers to take away anything from my work. We already carry so much. I simply hope they experience a moment of letting go through my paintings.

    Text & photo courtesy of Chaeeun Mun

    Website: https://dalgrim.creatorlink.net/
    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mun.chaeeun/


  • Interview | Ho Chi Minh City and Chicago-based Artist Le Hien Minh

    Interview | Ho Chi Minh City and Chicago-based Artist Le Hien Minh

    Le Hien Minh is a Vietnamese artist whose work is deeply shaped by her experiences growing up in post-war Vietnam. Coming of age during the 1980s and 1990s—a period of nation-building marked by utopian dreams, political upheaval, and the harsh realities of a war-torn country—formed the foundation of her artistic vision. This grounding continues to inform her practice, which critically engages with social issues and explores alternative cultural paradigms, envisioning realities beyond existing framework of patriarchy.

    Rooted in these experiences, Le Hien Minh’s practice examines the collision point between lived reality—historical, socio-political, or cultural—and visionary, metaphysical possibility. She creates experiences where the boundaries between actuality and potentiality, the real and the imagined, remain fluid. Central to her current practice is the female experience, through which she creates contemplative yet provocative work blending mysticism, cultural investigation, and matriarchal concepts—addressing the human-made systems, both visible and invisible, that govern our world.

    Her exhibitions include the Fukuoka Asian Art Museum in Japan; the Association of Finnish Sculptors in Helsinki; Hyde Park Art Center in Chicago; the Ho Chi Minh City Museum of Fine Arts; and the Vietnam National Fine Arts Museum in Hanoi. Le Hien Minh’s work has been featured in publications such as The Brooklyn Rail, ArtAsiaPacific, Ocula Magazine, Academia, and Chicago Reader, among others. Recent fellowships and grants include awards from the Finnish Cultural Foundation, the Asian Cultural Council, the Goethe-Institut, the 3Arts Ignite Fund, and the Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events.

    Me So Horny, 2025, Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, buffalo skull, ceramic mask, wood, natural jute fiber, and sound, Dimension variable (skull section: 60 × 38 × 28 cm), Courtesy of the artist, Photo: Laurel Hauge

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

    I was born in Hanoi, in the North of Vietnam, and grew up in Saigon, in the South, in an artistic family. My late grandfather was a revolutionary writer whose most famous works were written during the First Indochina War (1946–1954), and one of the founders of the Vietnam Writers’ Association in 1957. My mother is a renowned painter of her generation. She began painting at a very young age during the Second Indochina War (the Vietnam War, 1955–1975), continued through the nation-building era of the 1980s and 1990s, and still paints today. My late father was a linguist who worked at the Institute of Hán Nôm Studies, specializing in Hán Nôm—the pre-Latin Sino-Vietnamese written language that is now extinct.

    From a young age, I was surrounded by writers, artists, and cultural figures and it almost felt predetermined that I would become an artist or writer one day. However, my parents never pressured me to pursue art. I remember as a teenager, I actually wanted to become a lawyer. Nevertheless in 1998, I entered the Ho Chi Minh City University of Fine Arts to study traditional lacquer painting. I felt miserable during those years. In the post-war era, Vietnamese art education was dominated by Socialist Realism, taught by professors trained in the Soviet Union. There was very little room for individual expression, as socialism viewed the artist primarily as a worker serving the collective.

    Then, in 2002, I received a scholarship to the Art Academy of Cincinnati and moved to the U.S. The two years I spent there had a profound impact on me. For the first time, I was encouraged to express my own artistic vision, a practice that was highly valued in American art education but almost absent in Vietnam. It wasn’t easy to unlearn an ingrained system and to adapt a new one. The process of reconciling the two viewpoints took decades, which I now see as a unique strength. The tension between collective representation in the socialist tradition and individual expression in the American system continues to shape my art practice today.

    One Of These Days These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You, 2025, Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, bioplastic, thigh-high boots, wood, 100.5 × 45 × 30 cm, Courtesy of the artist, Photo: Laurel Hauge

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

    Since 2016, I have foregrounded the female experience by drawing on matrilineal traditions, folk-goddess worship, and prehistoric Venus figures, reviving matriarchal histories for contemporary discourse. I recontextualize these symbols in relation to forces that shape the Vietnamese female experience today such as Orientalism, Ornamentalism, the Vietnam War’s legacy, pink labor, and pop-culture stereotypes. By merging historical matriarchal iconography with these contemporary cultural constructs, I create artworks that function as power objects: surreal and uncanny forms. Regardless of medium—installation, sculpture, moving image, or drawing—all of my work is grounded in the framework of what I term “a matriarchal vision.”

    Some Body to Love, 2024, Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, bioplastic, wood, 8 x 10 x 74 cm, Courtesy of the artist and Sundaram Tagore Gallery

    How do your personal experiences and identity influence your art and the medium you choose?

    The experience of growing up in war-torn Vietnam during the political and economic upheavals of the 1980s and 1990s profoundly shaped my artistic vision. This was an era of nation-building, marked by both utopian dreams and the harsh realities of a war-torn nation, in which women were mobilized as a vital force and became an essential part of rebuilding the country. Coming of age in Saigon in these decades, I was surrounded by national propaganda depicting women in various roles, from farming and factory work to serving in hospitals and fighting as soldiers. These images, prominently displayed throughout the city until early 2000s, left a lasting impression on me. I acknowledge that socialist ideals related to working-class women and collective heroism have influenced my worldview.

    At the same time, the freedom of expression and focus on individuality that I experienced in America had an indelible impact on me. Living between these two ideological systems, I live with both their differences and their similarities. This dual existence allows me to see one through the lens of the other with a clearer eye, while staying aware of their inherent biases. At times, they clash, yet they continue to coexist as inseparable parts of my lived experience. For example, in Vietnam, the older art establishment often says that my work feels “too American” or “too Western,” while here in the U.S., some audiences struggle to grasp that in my project Ornamentalism, my focus is on the Vietnamese female nail technician as a form of collective heroism, rather than on any one individual with a specific name. This unique combination of the two worldviews has fundamentally shaped both my identity and my artistic practice.

    Throughout every stage of my career and across the shifting geographies of my life, my practice remains rooted in Vietnamese cultural sources. I found an authentic connection to my heritage through my chosen medium, traditional handmade Dó paper. Its adaptability allowed for a wide spectrum of expression and has remained central to my practice ever since. Over the last decade, I have also begun incorporating a wide range of historical symbols and cultural objects into my installations, sculptures and recently moving images and drawing.

    Apocalypse Nail, 2024, Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, bioplastic, 24K gold paint, 38.5 x 115 x 15.5 cm, Courtesy of the artist and Sundaram Tagore Gallery

    Can you describe a recent project or artwork that you are particularly proud of?

    Since returning to the U.S. in 2022, my practice has entered a new phase, articulated through an unapologetic and uncensored visual language that has emerged from a new sense of freedom, free from the institutional constraints and prescriptive heritage of my homeland. My work now weaves together both Eastern and Western influences, interlacing my Vietnamese cultural roots with American contemporary culture.

    From this foundation, I’m on a path to forming my own matriarchal mythology and its visual language. Over the past three years, I’ve built an expansive body of work guided by this vision with works that radiate an aura of otherworldly power, transcending the past and present while imagining potential futures and alternate realities. I’m very excited about this ongoing body of work as it continues to unfold, and I can’t wait to see this long-term project reach its fullest articulation in the near future.

     Blessed Lady of the Nail, 2024, Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, acrylic, resin, carved wooden octagonal stand, 74 x 31.5 x 32.5 cm, Courtesy of the artist, Photo by Mia

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

    Until recently, many of the challenges I have faced as an artist have stemmed from the cultural and historical conditions of my upbringing. As I mentioned earlier that I was born and raised in postwar Vietnam, during a time of prolonged economic hardship and minimal institutional support for the arts. To this day, the county has no contemporary art museum and no formal contemporary art education at the university level, leaving little infrastructure for artists like me. Because of this, I have to rely on international networks for learning, resources, and professional growth.

    In the United States, where I am now based, the obstacles are different but no less complex. Asian women’s artistic contributions are consistently sidelined, leaving our presence largely invisible within dominant narratives. The art world often flattens the distinct voices of Asian female artists, collapsing nuanced identities into familiar tropes, expecting our work to embody “soft, feminine, minimal, Zen-like” aesthetics. Framed by this reductive lens, my vision of the matriarchal risks being labeled as a foreign curiosity, reduced to token markers of “otherness”.

    More broadly, my work exists within ongoing global marginalization of women’s voices under patriarchy. These forces shape how artists like me are supported or excluded. Gaining recognition has required me to push against cultural, institutional, and aesthetic constraints.

    Have I overcome these major obstacles? The first two are relatively “easy” because they’re within my control, but the last one is not. True change, addressing the global marginalization of women’s voices under systemic patriarchy, with its architectures of power and the values that uphold them, requires a broader transformation. That transformation must be driven by collective effort within the art world and beyond. What I can say is that I’m determined to keep being part of a global community of artists working consistently to challenge these systems and entrenched hierarchies. I’m also fortunate to have people in my life who support and believe in me, and that helps me keep going.

    Invisible Dragon, 2023, Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wood, acrylic, resin, Top sculpture: 44 x 15 x 19.5 cm, Bottom sculpture: 28.5 x 11 x 43.5 cm, Courtesy of the artist, Photo: Laurel Hauge

    What do you hope people take away from your art when they experience it?

    When I create artwork, beauty is not my aim. Being pleasing to the eye is not my concern. I aim for power. I aim to confront ideas head on. The confrontational quality in my work has only intensified over time, and I’ve been working to distill ideas in such a way that even small scale objects can contain immense power. Ultimately, I see my art as a form of cultural protest and a vehicle to liberate her-story, carving out space for futures that are still unfolding. My work is grounded in the Vietnamese female experience but also channeled through a universal matriarchal lens. I like to think of my artworks as portals, where personal, collective, and ancestral memories intertwine with modern myths and social critique. I hope they encourage viewers to reflect, imagine, and envision new potential futures.

    Text & photo courtesy of Le Hien Minh

    Wesbite: https://lehienminh.com/
    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/le_hien_minh/


  • Interview | Berlin-Based Artist Min-Jia

    Interview | Berlin-Based Artist Min-Jia

    Min-Jia (b. 2001, Ürümqi, China) is an artist and writer living in Berlin, Germany. They destabilize the myths of origin and identity through narratives of transformation. Their work samples and remixes folk and ornamental arts and their global transformations—from Orientalist kitsch to Art Nouveau to manga—to re-examine fantasies of the Other across canonical and outsider art histories.

    Min-Jia has completed a Shaanxi Huaxian shadow puppetry apprenticeship under Master Wang Tianwen and graduated from Berlin University of the Arts (UdK). They have presented a solo project at PODIUM, Hong Kong (2025), and have exhibited internationally at James Fuentes Gallery, New York (2024); Franz Kaka, Toronto (2024); Bernheim, London (2023); and X Museum, Beijing (2023). Their work is part of the Royal Bank of Canada’s collection.

    They are currently working on their first novel, ‘Mechanical Tail’.

    Mother II, 2024, Hand-carved vellum, mineral pigments, stainless steel, plexiglass, 3D printed resin, motor, hardware, with mechanical engineering by Salvador Marino, 120 x 140 x 111 cm

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

    I was born in Ürümqi, China, and spent my childhood travelling with my parents who worked overseas. When I was 8 or 9, my mom gave me a journal and I started documenting our trips. My first entry was about throwing up on the plane from Montreal to Xi’an after visiting her. The journal was her parting gift to me. Soon after, we moved to Australia, and I filled the journal with a comic about a family of cats that, just like us, go through all the trials of adapting to a new life. Even back then I was obsessed with manga like Inuyasha so I wanted to make my own manga. That might be how I started using art as a way to process and accept change. I still have this journal with me in Berlin, where I live and work now.

    Mother III, 2024-2025, Hand-carved vellum, mineral pigments, stainless steel, plexiglass, 3D printed resin, motor, hardware, with mechanical engineering by Salvador Marino, 136 x 188 x 111 cm

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

    Migration. Adaptation. Transformation. Especially how all of this feels in the body. I see the body as this transformative site that physically changes to survive social, material, and environmental conditions. I also think about how change occurs over time, how cultures adapt and influence each other throughout history, and how the way history is told back to us reshapes our bodies.

    Mother IV, 2024 – 2025, Hand-carved vellum, mineral pigments, stainless steel, plexiglass, 3D printed resin, motor, hardware, with mechanical engineering by Salvador Marino, 80 x 100 x 113 cm

    How do your personal experiences and identity influence your art?

    My work is largely rooted in Shaanxi Huaxian shadow puppetry. I came across shadow puppetry after I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in 2023, when I rewatched Zhang Yimou’s To Live. The film spans a tumultuous time in Chinese history—from the Sino-Japanese War to the Cultural Revolution—and follows a wealthy landlord’s son who becomes a shadow puppeteer. Watching the luminous puppets move against the backdrop of violent social upheaval, I saw my painful joints in their joints, which, backlit, resembled spinning wheels. I thought to myself, if these little puppets could survive war and revolution, then I can survive this illness. That realization led me back to Xi’an, where I apprenticed under the shadow puppet master Wang Tianwen.

    Father, 2024 – 2025, Hand-carved vellum, mineral pigments, stainless steel, plexiglass, 3D printed resin, motor, hardware, with mechanical engineering by Salvador Marino, 208 x 83.5 x 10 cm

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

    I try to think of each work as a step, not an end goal. I still pour everything into the work, but I’m actually happiest when it doesn’t turn out the way I expected. Surprise, or unfulfilled expectation, seduces me into making something new. When I’m in a slump, I try to surround myself with art and people I admire, and I get this visceral need to reach them. Maybe my works are just love letters in disguise. Through art, I talk to people I can’t talk to (or can’t talk to enough). The feeling of continuing a conversation always gets me going.

    Exhibition view of World of Interiors, Photo by Felix SC Wong, Courtesy of PODIUM, Hong Kong

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

    I definitely had to wrestle with the European art canon when I moved to Germany. A teaching assistant once called my work “decorative” and “girlish” during crit, which made me insecure enough to avoid going to the studio at school. During this self-imposed art break, I started looking into Art Nouveau artists whose works were similarly “decorative,” and I was riddled with questions like: why do I find Klimt’s style so juicy but his subject matter so flavourless? Do I only like Beardsley because his drawings resemble my favourite yaoi? Am I supposed to disapprove of these artists for being culture-appropriating orientalists, or can I also feel a kinship with them?

    All of this led me to think more critically about authenticity, appropriation, and the history of ornamental arts, which has been around as long as any art history but is relegated to craft, a.k.a. labour of the feminine and colonized, and complicated by global capitalism. So yes, I thank my German art school for bullying me into searching for answers in the legacies of a few European art daddies, until I realized that there is no answer. What I emerged with was an understanding of why I was searching in the first place: I want to trace my artistic lineage, so I’m learning to see art history less as a set of fixed traditions and more like a forest of cross-pollinating family trees. That is still my ongoing project. 

    Exhibition view of World of Interiors, Photo by Felix SC Wong, Courtesy of PODIUM, Hong Kong

    What do you hope people take away from your art when they experience it?

    More people need to know about shadow puppetry! It’s such a versatile, multi-layered art form. By telling the story of Shaanxi Huaxian shadow puppetry alongside my own story, I hope people can connect with it not just as “cultural heritage,” but as a living medium with real power for self-reflection and change.

    Text & images courtesy of Min-Jia

    Website: https://minjia.parts/Min-Jia
    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/provessel/


  • Interview | Seoul-Based Artist Jeongeun Han

    Interview | Seoul-Based Artist Jeongeun Han

    Jeongeun Han, born and currently based in Seoul, graduated with a BFA in Painting from Sejong University and received her MFA in Korean Painting from the same institution. Han captures the emotional resonances and residue arising from the disappearance and loss of existence, explores their meaning, and expresses them in her own unique painterly language. Han’s paintings press onward to embrace the sublimity found in the fleeting moment, an approach aligned with the effort to capture presence and absence as we perceive them within a finite world, together with the compulsion that flows in between them. Rather than pursuing eternal forms, her work seeks new meaning within the vestiges of disappearance and loss.

    I Love You to the Point of Pain, 2025, Pigment, acrylic and airbrush on Jangji, 100 x 72.7 cm

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

    I was born in Seoul, where I had easy access to a variety of arts education. Thanks to this environment, I actively engaged with fields like dance, music, and fine arts from an early age. Naturally, I became interested in exploring various ways to express my thoughts, and among them, visual art brought me a special kind of joy.

    The process of handling different colors and translating what I observed and felt into a visual form through my fingertips felt incredibly fascinating. Drawing quickly became a natural ‘habit of enjoyment’ for me during my elementary school years, and I’ve continued my artistic practice within that flow ever since.

    I started formal, competitive art training when preparing for university. Although it was a high-pressure environment, it actually sparked my competitive spirit and desire for achievement, allowing me to stay happily engaged. However, I faced several setbacks and failures during the university entrance process, and that period became a major turning point for me.

    Through those failures, I deeply realized the value of effort and the meaning of earnest dedication. My attitude toward the work I truly desired changed fundamentally.

    Since then, my practice has become more than just a means of expression; it’s become a method of understanding myself and navigating life. The process of searching for answers to my complex thoughts and self-imposed questions became my ‘work,’ and my current artistic practice is a direct continuation of that life journey.

    True Vanishing Is Found in the Longing to Begin Anew, 2025, Acrylic, airbrush and oil on canvas, 90.9 x 72.7 cm

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

    I explore the value inherent in loss and dissolution. My focus is less on “disappearance” itself, and more on the sensations that linger in its aftermath. Essentially, I investigate the persistent sense of presence that endures in a state of absence—the finitude and circulation of existence, the traces of time, the emotional afterglow, and the aesthetics of non-presence.

    The element of light in my work functions beyond a simple visual effect; it acts as a sensory trace, tracing the spaces where being and emotion once resided. The fine layers, accumulated using an airbrush, simultaneously reveal the fragile texture of fleeting emotions and capture my will to hold onto those transient moments. The resulting surface gently hosts the time and sentiment that, while unseen, are undeniably present.

    This painterly approach stems from a deliberate stance: in a contemporary visual culture characterized by indiscriminate and rapid consumption, I choose to focus my gaze on what is slowly fading away. For me, art practice is not merely superficial representation, but a form of meditative practice—a way to venerate existence itself, embrace the process of dissolution, and savor its lingering resonance.

    My current painting aims toward embracing the sublime found in the momentary and the ephemeral. This endeavor aligns with the attempt to capture the dynamic flow (or affect) between presence and absence that we sense in our finite world. In this way, my recent works embody my commitment to seeking new meaning within the traces of disappearance and loss, rather than pursuing eternal form.

    The Light That Fell Quietly, 2025, Pigment, acrylic, and airbrush on Jangji, 91 x 116.8 cm

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

    The biggest challenge I face as an artist is the tendency for many people to view emotions like ‘grief’ or ‘loss’ purely negatively, and to try to avoid those feelings altogether. Because of this, my work is often initially read as simply an expression of sadness.

    I totally understand where they are coming from. For a long time, I also treated these feelings as just sadness, and I stayed stuck in that emotional space.

    However, what I truly want to address in my work is not the sadness itself, but the afterglow of that emotion—the residue and the transformative process that remains after the initial feeling subsides. My persistent challenge has always been figuring out how to convincingly visualize the subtle nuances and texture of this emotional shift.

    To overcome this, I’ve dedicated myself to exploring and deepening my understanding of the structure of painting, material properties, and the relationship with light. To genuinely connect with the audience, I also make an effort to listen to others’ experiences and reflect more deeply on social issues and individual lives.

    Additionally, I put a lot of effort into titling my work. I want the titles to evoke a sense of the lost romanticism of our time and convey a gradual, forward movement.

    While it’s difficult to say I have completely overcome this challenge, I feel these ongoing processes are gradually solidifying my practice and making the work stronger, allowing me to move forward.

    Air and Eidolon, 2025, Acrylic, airbrush and oil on canvas, 45.5 x 45.5 cm

    In what ways do you think the art world has changed since you started your career?

    It hasn’t been long since I began my career as an artist, so it feels a bit cautious to speak definitively about how the art world has changed. However, before I started working as an artist, I didn’t realize how vast and intricately connected the art market is. Through actively participating and learning within it, I’ve come to recognize how much I myself have changed in the process. I also feel that trends and visual languages within the art scene shift very rapidly nowadays. In the midst of these fast changes, I believe it’s becoming increasingly important for artists to maintain their own direction and develop an authentic voice.

    The Night Was Endured in Stillness and the Morning Came, Slow and Uncertain, 2025, Acrylic, airbrush and oil on canvas, 162.2 x 130.3 cm

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

    I truly see exhibiting a piece as establishing a dynamic dialogue with the physical space itself. Every location—whether it’s a formal gallery or an open public area—has its own unique atmosphere, its own internal “temperature,” and I spend a lot of time analyzing that in the planning stages. I believe that when the space and the artwork interact, both physically and non-physically, they generate a completely new conversation or discourse.

    My installation experiments are always focused on tearing down that ‘invisible barrier’ between the audience and the work. For example, when I install pieces so they stand freely or hang from the ceiling, allowing them to gently brush against the air, it’s not just a design choice. It’s about encouraging viewers to step closer, moving beyond distant observation and into the physical realm of the work. Since the thin layers in my pieces are so crucial, I want them to really observe that subtle density. When that boundary is broken, I think it creates a space where visitors naturally stay longer and build a more meaningful, contemplative relationship with the piece.

    Ultimately, my main goal for showing work in a public space is to offer the audience a ‘portal’ where their everyday reality and artistic sensibilities cross over. When people step through this portal, I hope the intersection of their real-life sensations and the new perceptions offered by the artwork helps them notice and examine those subtle emotions they might usually overlook. Creating that moment of deep empathy and self-reflective contemplation—that is the fundamental reason why I want to share my work and unlock its potential for a wider audience.

    Guardian of the Void, Acrylic, airbrush and oil on canvas, 160 x 45,4 cm

    How do your personal experiences and identity influence your art?

    My work always begins with my own personal experiences. The significant events I’ve been through naturally became crucial turning points, shaping the direction of my art and establishing my unique perspective on the themes of loss and disappearance.

    Soon it will explode in a terrible blast, Pigment, acrylic, air brush on Korean paper, 70 x 136 cm (x3)

    Text & photo courtesy of Jeongeun Han

    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hahnjungoon/


  • Interview | New York-based Artist Avani Patel

    Interview | New York-based Artist Avani Patel

    Born in Mumbai, India in 1976, Avani Patel immigrated with her family to Pennsylvania at the age of eleven. She holds a BA from Pennsylvania State University and an MFA from the Tyler School of Art at Temple University.

    Patel’s paintings have been exhibited widely across the United States and internationally, including New York, Providence, Philadelphia, New Jersey, Ohio, Virginia, Chicago, Dubai, Panama, Portugal, and Mexico. From 2003 to 2006, her work was displayed at the American Embassy’s ambassador residence in Panama, and in 2005 she was invited to lead community workshops at schools and art centers there, creating collaborative installations inspired by everyday objects. That same year, she was honored by Colin Powell and Laura Bush through the U.S. Department of State’s Art in Embassies program, alongside fifty other distinguished artists and gallerists.

    In 2008 and 2009, Patel contributed to America’s Chinatown Voices, a major public art project organized by the Asian American Arts Centre, where 300 painted panels illustrating Asian American stories were installed at Columbus Park in New York City’s Chinatown. In 2011, she collaborated on a public art project in Lillestrøm, Norway, and from 2002 to 2008 two of her paintings were exhibited at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Her practice further developed through a residency at Triangle Arts Association in 2006.

    Patel’s work has received national and international recognition, with features in Hyperallergic, The Woven Tale Press, and various other magazines and art publications. Her paintings are held in private and corporate collections in Kuwait, Dubai, and the United States, including Evercore’s corporate art collection, which recently acquired her work. In 2025, Patel was selected one of only three artists from a large applicant pool for the ArtBridge and CAMBA Affordable Housing public art project in Brooklyn, announced through a CAMBA press release. She continues to expand her public art presence, including a mural installation completed in Brooklyn in 2024. Patel’s work reflects her deep engagement with cultural memory, nature, movement, pattern, and the layered textures of personal and collective histories. She currently lives and works in Brooklyn, New York.

    Umbilical, 2024, Acrylic and paint marker, 36 x 48 in

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

    I was born in Mumbai, a city full of movement, color, and sound. Even though it is known for its fast pace, I grew up in a neighborhood where daily life felt rich with small details textiles hanging from balconies, temple bells in the morning, the smell of monsoon rains, and the rhythm of celebrations that seemed to flow through every season. My parents created a warm and nurturing environment, and their encouragement shaped who I became. My mother’s love for color and my father’s curiosity about the world found their way into me long before I understood what it meant to be an artist.

    Art entered my life naturally. As a young girl, my parents often took me to see my sister perform at their theater and dance rehearsals. Watching the dancers twirl in bright costumes, their dresses flowing like brushstrokes, felt magical almost as if the colors themselves were speaking to me. Drawing became my favorite form of play, a daily habit that helped me capture the joy and movement I saw all around me.

    Some of my strongest memories come from my parents’ garden and from visiting my parents’ farms in India. I spent hours watching flowers open, leaves shift in sunlight, and fields sway with the wind. These small moments taught me how to observe nature closely and understand rhythm, color, and quiet movements that continue to shape my visual language today.

    Indian festivals also played a powerful role in my early imagination. Celebrations like Navaratri filled our neighborhood with music, dancing, lights, and vibrant colors. I remember watching women dressed in beautifully patterned saris performing Garba and Dandiya, their movements creating patterns that felt almost like living paintings. Those festivals showed me how joy, movement, spirituality, and color can all blend together, and they continue to influence the energy and rhythm in my work.

    When I immigrated to Pennsylvania at age eleven, the landscapes changed dramatically, but my connection to art only grew stronger. Creating became a way of holding onto the colors, textures, and memories of India while learning to navigate a new environment. My love for colors, nature, and music continued to guide me, reinforcing my commitment to always make space in my life for art.

    I earned my BA from the University of Pennsylvania and my MFA from the Tyler School of Art at Temple University. Graduate school pushed me to explore abstraction, cultural memory, and new visual languages. I realized my work was not only about patterns and figures, it was about the places I had lived, but the experiences also that shaped me, and the emotional landscapes I carried.

    Each chapter of my life India’s gardens and farms, Navaratri and other festivals, theater rehearsals, immigration, and the blending of cultures continues to shape how I see and create. My artistic journey has become a way of understanding who I am, where I come from, and how I can translate both the seen and the felt into color, rhythm, and form on the canvas.

    Part of Marigold, 2024, Acrylic and paint marker on paper, 22 x 30 in

    How has your artistic style evolved over time?

    As an artist, I am continually evolving. I explore, experiment, and allow my work to grow with me. Over the years, my artistic development has shifted in many ways, moving from early figurative work into a more layered, intuitive, and abstract language.

    Textile and theatre traditions from India have been essential in shaping this evolution. The embroidered fabrics, woven patterns, and rhythmic repetitions of traditional textiles continue to influence my surfaces and mark-making. Likewise, the classical theatre and dance performances I grew up around their expressive gestures, vivid costumes, and dramatic storytelling taught me how movement, color, and atmosphere can shape an emotional landscape. These early sensory experiences still guide me to how I build compositions and create visual rhythm.

    Nature has also played a central role. My parents’ garden was a place of constant inspiration; the textures, colors, and quiet transformations taught me to observe the world with patience and curiosity. That connection to nature continues to inform the organic patterns, layered marks, and living energy that appear throughout my paintings.

    As I’ve embraced new techniques, materials, and processes, each step has opened new pathways for experimentation. Gradually, I found myself creating more intuitive marks, exploring patterns, and pushing deeper into abstraction in ways that expanded both my imagination and artistic confidence.

    Now, I am always developing a new visual language combining composition, color theory, natural forms, textile memory, and imagined worlds. Each painting feels like learning a new dialect, discovering new values within patterns, and building a universe that reflects both the mystery of who I am and the ongoing evolution of my artistic life.

    When the Earth Breathes, 2025, Acrylic and paint marker on canvas, 60 x 60 in

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

    My creative process is a combination of routine, exploration, intuition, and playfulness. I usually begin with quiet observation small drawings, studies, or color notes that help me understand patterns and rhythms. This part of my process is intentional and grounded, giving me a sense of direction before starting a larger piece.

    Once I move onto the canvas, the work becomes more spontaneous. I let the unconscious guide me, allowing marks to appear freely without overthinking them. This is where rhythm and movement come alive in my practice the repeated gestures, shifting forms, and flowing lines feel almost like a dance between my hand and the surface.

    Playfulness is also an important part of my process. I like to surprise myself, to push colors in unexpected ways, to let shapes transform, and to follow ideas that may not make sense at first. That sense of curiosity keeps the work alive and helps me discover new visual languages.

    Exploration is essential. I experiment with mark-making, layering, color, and abstraction to create something that feels both intuitive and intentional. Often, the painting takes me somewhere I didn’t plan to go, and I allow that spontaneity to become part of the final piece.

    Overall, my process is a conversation between the conscious and the unconscious structured enough to begin, but open enough for rhythm, movement, intuition, and playfulness to shape the work.

    Fiesta of Pink Forms, 2024, Acrylic and paint marker on canvas, 32 x 40 in

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

    My passion for being an artist shaped my path from the very beginning. Art has always given me the freedom to explore, make mistakes, and grow through the challenges I’ve faced in my career. As an Asian American artist, I experienced doubt from people who didn’t believe a creative life was possible for me. But my parents and my high school art teacher encouraged me to keep going and stay committed to what I love. Their support became the foundation of my journey, and over time I learned to let go of negativity and focus on the positive momentum in my life and practice.

    Art has truly been part of me since childhood. Watching my sister’s theater and dance rehearsals filled me with joy—the colorful costumes, music, and movement felt like the colors were speaking directly to me. Painting became my way of capturing that feeling. The rich, vibrant culture of India—its nature, music, and temples—continues to inspire how I bring my imagination onto the canvas.

    One of my early accomplishments was landing a position at Brown University right after graduating from Tyler School of Art. After that year, I began applying for residences in New York. A month later, I received a letter from Snug Harbor Cultural Center offering me a studio space. That moment changed everything. I moved to New York to pursue my dream, and that same year I was selected for my first solo exhibition in Times Square through Chashama an incredible beginning.

    What I didn’t anticipate was how difficult it would be to start over in New York. For months I had no steady job and relied on my savings, which quickly became stressful. But I didn’t want to abandon my artistic journey, so I took on different jobs to support myself while continuing to create. In 2005, I received an unexpected email from the American Embassy announcing that my work had been selected for a three-year display in Panama. Traveling there felt magical. As an immigrant artist from India, standing in the American Embassy in Panama City and speaking to the community and youth about my art was a moment I will never forget.

    My art has taken me to many places and allowed me to build meaningful memories and connections. Through all of it, I’ve learned to believe in myself, to keep moving forward, and to embrace each experience as a beautiful chapter of my journey.

    Creature In The Wild, 2024, Acrylic and paint marker on paper, 30 x 22 in

    Can you describe a recent project or artwork that you are particularly proud of?

    A recent project I am especially proud of is my public art collaboration with ArtBridge, where my work is printed on scaffolding and transformed into a full-block installation for an affordable housing development in Flatbush, Brooklyn. Seeing an entire city block wrapped in my paintings and patterns is an unforgettable moment. The project grew directly out of my solo show at the CUE Art Foundation, and it was incredible to watch work that began in the intimacy of a gallery expand into a large-scale mural experienced by thousands of people every day. Knowing that my art could bring joy, imagination, and beauty to a construction site, especially one connected to affordable housing felt deeply meaningful. It reminded me of the power of public art to uplift communities and become part of the daily rhythm of public life.

    This project also expanded my understanding of scale. The patterns, creatures, and abstract forms I usually explore in the studio suddenly had room to breathe in a monumental way. The entire block became a living extension of my practice movement, repetition, and color stretching across the scaffolding like one continuous mural.

    Alongside my public artwork, I’ve also had the honor of presenting three recent solo exhibitions this year, each exploring different aspects of my visual language. These shows allowed me to experiment with new compositions, layering, and the emotional landscapes that come from my memories of India, nature, festivals, and cultural storytelling.

    I am currently preparing for an upcoming solo exhibition in Tampa, Florida, where I will be showing a new body of work that focuses on flow, mark-making, and the movement of color. This exhibition also includes a workshop and artist talk, giving me the chance to connect directly with the community.

    Another project I am deeply excited about is my forthcoming solo show at the Jamaica Art Center in New York. I am developing new paintings and drawings for this exhibition that explore rhythm, intuition, and the bridges between migration, memory, and nature. This body of work feels like the beginning of a new chapter, more experimental, playful, and grounded in both my cultural roots and my present experiences.

    All of these projects’ public art, solo exhibitions, and the shows still in progress represent the many ways my art continues to grow. They remind me why I create: to bring color into communities, to tell stories, and to build connections through imagination.

    Blue Legs Running, 2020, Acrylic and paint marker on paper, 7.5 x 22 in

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

    My biggest advice to emerging artists is to believe in your work, even when others don’t. Doubt from outside or within is something every artist faces. What matters is staying committed to your vision and giving yourself permission to grow, experiment, and make mistakes.

    Be patient with your journey. Nothing happens overnight. Keep showing up to your studio, even on the days when work feels difficult. Consistency becomes its own form of progress.

    Finally, remember that being an artist is not only about success, but also about finding joy in the process. Trust yourself, keep creating, and let the work lead you forward.

    Text & photo courtesy of Avani Patel

    Photo credit: Anthony Sclafani

    Website: https://www.avanirpatel.com/
    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/unique_avani/


  • Interview | Seoul-Based Artist Yeonsu Ju

    Interview | Seoul-Based Artist Yeonsu Ju

    Yeonsu Ju is a Korean painter based between Europe and Seoul. She has BA in sociology and painting (First Class), MFA in Painting (Distinction). Her work explores memory, presence, and absence through restrained forms, line, and color, often incorporating materials such as Hanji to add texture and depth. Ju has held solo exhibitions in London, Paris, and Singapore and participated in group shows internationally, including in Madrid, Beijing, Los Angeles, and Turin. Her work is included in private collections worldwide, and she has been recognized with awards such as the Cass Art Prize (2023) and the Window Project (2022).

    Belling, 2025, Oil on linen, 90 x 120 cm

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

    I studied sociology in Seoul before moving to Glasgow and London to study painting. My path to art wasn’t linear—it began almost by coincidence during an exchange semester in Milan. At the time, I was still focused on sociology and had never considered painting as more than an interest. While there, I met the artist Eemyun Kang and began learning from her. One day she told me, “I hope you continue painting ( after you go back to Korea ) .” It was a simple remark, but it stayed with me. It felt like a quiet recognition of something I hadn’t yet realized about myself.

    Since then, painting has become the way I make sense of things—an image of myself that feels both natural and necessary. I’ve followed it since, not out of certainty but from a kind of conviction that this is where I’m meant to stay.

    Rise, 2025, Oil on linen, 120 x 90 cm

    How has your artistic style evolved over time?

    In the beginning, I was drawn to gesture and immediacy—painting felt like a way to release something internal, almost impulsively. Over time, that energy has become more contained, more deliberate. I’ve grown interested in how restraint can hold emotion just as powerfully as expression can.

    Form, line, and color have become the main structure of my work. I used to think of painting as a kind of catharsis, but now I see it more as a process of refinement—paring down, removing noise, and letting the essential remain. The work has become quieter, but also more precise, more aware of the tension between beauty and unease.

    Stem, 2025, Oil on linen, 80 x 90 cm

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

    I just wait until a certain image comes to me. It’s not something I try to force or plan. The image often appears unexpectedly—sometimes from a fleeting memory, a color, or a physical sensation—and once it arrives, it stays with me until I start painting.

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

    It’s a mix of both. I have little rituals—like smoking before I begin—that feel almost compulsive, a way of marking the start of the process. I don’t follow a strict routine, but I do have a rhythm in the studio. Most of the time, I wait until a certain image or atmosphere becomes clear in my mind. Once it appears, I work instinctively, almost as if I’m trying to catch it before it disappears.

    V -> A ; Cobalt blue, 2024, Oil on linen, 140 x 170 cm

    What role do you believe art plays in social and cultural change?

    Art’s most important role is to make people see things differently. It challenges habitual ways of looking, thinking, and feeling, creating a space where perspectives can shift. That shift is the starting point for any real understanding or change—subtle, persistent, and often transformative.

    Art doesn’t need to instruct or solve problems; its strength lies in opening perception and attention, allowing new ideas and possibilities to emerge. In that sense, art doesn’t just reflect society—it quietly reshapes it.

    V -> A ; Turkish blue, 2024, Oil on linen, 130 x 160 cm

    What projects are you currently working on, and what can we expect from you in the future?

    I’m currently preparing for my solo exhibition at The Third in Seoul. Following that, I have a residency in Los Angeles scheduled for March 2026 and a solo exhibition in Paris later that year.

    Through these projects, I aim to continue exploring memory, presence, and absence in my work, using subtle gestures, restrained forms, and materials like Hanji (traditional Korean paper) to create paintings that hold tension and ambiguity. My focus is on making work that feels alive and necessary—asking questions, opening perception, and evolving with each new exploration.

    Text & photo courtesy of Yeonsu Ju

    Website: https://yeonsuju.com/
    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/yeonsuju/


  • Interview | New York-based Artist Jieun Cheon

    Interview | New York-based Artist Jieun Cheon

    Jieun Cheon (b. 1995) is a multidisciplinary artist based in New York, exploring perception, memory, and the limits of understanding. Through installations that combine sculpture, painting, and drawing, she investigates paradoxes—order and chaos, visibility and absence. Her ongoing project, Uncanished Workld, creates immersive environments reflecting the tension between structure and instability. Cheon holds BFA and MFA degrees in Sculpture from Seoul National University and an MFA in Fine Arts from the School of Visual Arts, New York. Her work has been exhibited internationally and developed through residencies including NARS and Kunstraum.

    Demagnified z-axis: The ghost’s glasses, 2022, Rainbow quartz, brass and mixed media, 6.3 x 6.3 x 7.3 in

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

    My artistic journey began in early childhood. I was deeply drawn to visual expression from a young age and spent most of my time drawing and making things. In elementary school, I even created postcards to sell for charity and made dolls both for myself and as gifts for others. At that time, making things felt completely natural to me.

    Originally, I planned to study animation until middle school. However, after entering an art high school and immersing myself in fine art through creating my own work, I realized that my talent and passion were more aligned with fine art than animation. A major turning point came when I visited an exhibition from François Pinault’s collection and encountered works by leading contemporary artists. Seeing how artists could engage in a profound dialogue with materials and transform them into sublime forms had a powerful impact on me. That experience solidified my decision to pursue art seriously, which eventually led me to study sculpture at Seoul National University and later fine arts at the School of Visual Arts in New York.

    t-axis: the entrance/clock of the ghost’s room, 2022, Sap of the lacquer tree, fake glit, brass, MDF, OHP film, spray paint, clock movements, resin and mixed media, 114.2 x 35.4 x 23.6 in

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

    My creative process is structured, reflective, and driven by a continuous dialogue between intuition and reason. I don’t work purely spontaneously—in fact, one of my core rules is to never follow my very first intuitive impulse. Instead, I take time to examine where that instinct comes from, whether it’s rooted in a memory, an image, or a larger system of thought. From there, I research references and concepts that resonate with that initial spark, gradually filtering out what feels superficial and keeping only what feels essential. Because of this process, my work may appear highly controlled or calculated, but the intuitive elements that remain are the distilled core of my visual sensibility. In this way, intuition becomes more precise rather than disappearing.

    I also tend to develop several project ideas simultaneously. Rather than forcing one idea into difficult conditions, I usually select which project to realize based on the materials, space, and technical limitations available at the time. This approach allows me to avoid major disruptions and helps the production process flow more smoothly, though it can be frustrating to postpone projects that require very specific conditions. Still, I stay flexible, especially during installation. When unexpected restrictions arise, I adapt on site and find alternative solutions. Overall, my process is not impulsive, but responsive—guided by careful planning, research, and a willingness to adjust when reality demands it.

    Pulse from Months, 2025, Acrylic paint on wood panel, gold leafs, gold paint, 45 x 9 in (each)

    Can you describe a recent project or artwork that you are particularly proud of?

    Two recent projects that I am particularly proud of include Origami Hermit Craband and The Calendar of the Permutations of 1000 Arms, two works that explore different aspects of my artistic practice.

    Origami Hermit Crab investigates imagined physical landscapes and geological structures through modular map-like drawings and sculptures. Inspired by fractal theory and the myth of Aspidochelone, the works take the form of fractal snail shell structures, revealing how space is generated, expanded, and transformed. At the center of this series is The Anti-Fractal Map, a sequence of intricate pen drawings and watercolor paintings on silk. Each piece functions like a navigable map, where architectural elements such as Gothic arches, gravestones, and plant forms are arranged within geometric grids based on fractal principles. While these compositions initially appear orderly, inconsistencies and spatial distortions gradually emerge, reflecting the tension between rational structure and the chaos that lies beneath it. I am currently working on the third iteration of this series and expanding its sculptural components.

    Alongside this, The Calendar of the Permutations of 1000 Arms is an ongoing installation that takes the form of a fictional calendar and serves as an experiment in deconstructing religion. In this project, I reinterpret the Thousand-Armed Bodhisattva as a system of time. The installation consists of acrylic-painted panels, pen-drawn wooden panels, and sculptural elements made of brass and quartz. The acrylic paintings depict decaying flesh in layered shades of red, while the pen drawings reconstruct the mineral components of the deity’s arms, referencing the Buddhist concept of śarīra (sacred relics). Each stacked pair of panels symbolizes a single arm, and together they function like a calendar that records the continuous cycle of formation, life, and decay. My long-term goal is to complete 1,000 pen-drawn panels, and I am currently focused on advancing this extensive series.

    These two projects, one focused on spatial mapping and structure, the other on time, belief, and transformation, together reflect my ongoing interest in how order, chaos, perception, and systems of meaning are constructed and experienced through art.

    Two recent projects that I am particularly proud of include Origami Hermit Craband and The Calendar of the Permutations of 1000 Arms, two works that explore different aspects of my artistic practice.

    The Calendar of the Permutations of 1000 Arms, 2025, Acrylic and pen drawing on wood panels, brass, quartz and mixed media, 140 x 100 in

    What role do you believe art plays in social and cultural change?

    I think art plays a unique role in shaping social and cultural change by making the invisible visible. It can surface the structures, beliefs, and patterns that often go unquestioned in everyday life. In my work, I focus on myths, rituals, and systems of knowledge—showing how deeply human perception is shaped by both cultural and psychological frameworks.

    By revealing these frameworks, art encourages reflection and awareness. It doesn’t prescribe behavior, but it allows people to reconsider assumptions and explore alternative ways of understanding the world. For example, the obsessive dedication and labor behind traditional religious art or architecture—something I study and respond to—can make viewers aware of devotion, discipline, and values that have historically structured societies.

    In this sense, art becomes a subtle agent of change: it challenges norms not by preaching, but by creating experiences that expand perspective, provoke thought, and invite new ways of seeing ourselves and the world around us.

     Śarīra from Days No.1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 2025, Pen drawing on wood panel, gold leafs, gold paint, 45 x 9 in

    How do your personal experiences and identity influence your art?

    My personal experiences and identity are deeply tied to my art. Growing up navigating different cultural and philosophical frameworks, I became very aware of how belief systems and rituals shape the way we perceive and understand the world. That curiosity naturally flows into my work, where I explore myths, knowledge structures, and the ways humans construct meaning.

    One of the strongest influences on me has been directly experiencing religious art and architecture. Visiting cathedrals, temples, and sacred spaces, I was struck by the obsessive dedication and precision of the artisans who created them. Their work often borders on madness—repeating patterns, layering intricate details, and committing themselves fully, sometimes blindly, to their vision. I was captivated by this intensity, this almost fanatical devotion, and it made me reflect on the kind of commitment I wanted to bring to my own practice.

    In my own process, I try to channel that same relentless focus. Folding, drawing, layering, and repeating over long hours, I embrace the rigorous, ascetic discipline and the kind of obsession that pushes a work toward precision and depth. My personal conflicts, my curiosity, and my devotion to the making process all find a tangible form in the work, and I see that as the truest expression of my identity in my art.

    The Anti-Fractal Map I, 2023-2024, Pen drawing, Japanese watercolor, Chinese ink, gold leather paint on silk and mixed media, 57.5 x 57.5 x 6.5 in

    What do you hope people take away from your art when they experience it?

    When people experience my work, I hope they take away two main impressions. First, I want them to appreciate the beauty of dedicated labor. I am inspired by religious artisans who pursued their craft with obsessive devotion, sometimes bordering on madness. Their unwavering commitment enabled them to carry out meticulous and demanding work. I see this intensity not as a flaw, but as a raw creative force that drives transcendence through making—an attitude that, to me, embodies the true essence of visual art.

    Second, I hope viewers sense the complexity of inquiry embedded in my practice. My work explores how the mind interacts with the world—how belief systems, myths, and structures of knowledge shape perception. Rather than offering clear narratives, it invites wandering, decoding, and reassembling, reflecting the exploratory and unstable nature of cognition.

    Ultimately, I see my work as a shared encounter: the audience brings their own experiences, just as I bring mine. I hope people leave with curiosity, reflection, and a sense that art is a space where interpretations multiply and new meanings emerge.

    Text & photo courtesy of Jieun Cheon

    Website: https://www.uncanishedworkld.com/
    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/0_uncanished_workld/