Fran Chang (1990, Poços de Caldas, Brazil) builds land- scapes through painting in which the atmospheric expanse of the horizon contrasts with the dimensions of the canvas. The art- ist’s works are inspired by inhospitable places, devoid of human figures and vegetation, and depict ethereal and lunar scenarios where steam, water and ice predominate. The choice of silk as a surface for pictorial creation—a medium that dialogues with her Taiwanese ancestry—reinforc- es the diaphanous character of her works and reveals the un- derlying structure, thus establishing a dialog with the tradition of painting. Chang’s work speaks about the contemporary experience of a relationship with nature mediated by digital images, the in- tangibility of the natural world, and the ambiguous potential of si- lence and solitude by depicting scenes of a dissipating world. Fran Chang has a Bachelor’s degree in Visual Arts. She also has an academic extension in Astrophysics and Astronautics from the Federal University of Santa Catarina. In 2024, she held Zenith, a solo show at Millan. Her work is part of the collections of the Saint Louis Art Museum, in St. Louis, USA, and the Museu de Arte do Rio, in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. In 2020, she was a recipient of Itaú Cultural’s Arte como Respiro public award

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

I think my artistic journey started long before I understood it as art. I grew up in a family deeply connected to Taiwanese culture through my mother, and from a very young age I was already obsessed with creating, observing, and trying to understand the world around me. I would draw, paint, build, take objects apart, and spend a lot of time reflecting on ideas and different ways of perceiving the world. Later on, I studied Fine Arts, while at the same time maintaining a strong interest in science, especially the universe and astrophysics, which eventually led me to pursue an extension course in Astrophysics and Astronautics. To me, these fields never felt contradictory. Both art and science came from the same sense of curiosity and the same need for observation and reflection. For a long time, I produced work very privately and found it difficult to show it publicly. The first time I presented a painting was through an award from an important institution in Brazil, which I ended up receiving. That moment was decisive because it gave me the confidence to begin sharing the work more openly and to start working professionally as an artist. Around that same period, I began working on silk, a material that eventually became central to my practice. My mother used to make her own clothes, so I grew up very close to fabrics and to the presence of silk within Taiwanese culture. When I first started painting on it, I immediately felt a very strong connection to the material. In a way, silk also represents the deep bond I have with my mother and with everything that shaped my upbringing from childhood onward. The way pigment is absorbed by the fabric ended up profoundly influencing the construction of the images and atmospheres within the paintings.

Your work often reflects on experiences of belonging and displacement. How did these themes begin to take shape in your practice?

I think these questions began to emerge very naturally, even before I was able to clearly name them. From an early age, there was a constant sense of displacement and observation, as if I were always moving between different spaces, sensibilities, and ways of perceiving the world. Growing up between different cultural references created a strong sense of ambiguous belonging, something that shaped not only the way I think about identity, but also the way I perceive space, silence, atmosphere, and landscape.

Over time, I realised that many of the landscapes and atmospheres appearing in the paintings were directly connected to these internal states. For me, belonging has never felt completely stable or fully defined, but rather something constantly shifting and transforming. I think that is why many of the images feel suspended, silent, or difficult to place within a specific location. There is often a sense of transition, as if these landscapes exist somewhere between memory, perception, and imagination.

Although the work is deeply connected to my personal experience, these questions do not appear in a literal or descriptive way. They become absorbed and transformed through the painting itself, through atmosphere, scale, emptiness, light, and the construction of contemplative states. Many times, I feel that painting becomes a way of internally processing experiences and emotions that are difficult to translate rationally or through language.

Over time, I also realised that these questions stopped being only themes and gradually became part of the very structure of the work itself. They influence not only the images, but also the rhythm of the painting, the construction of space, the choice of materials, and even the way atmospheres settle across the surface.

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

My creative process is both intuitive and deeply reflective. I usually begin by writing about my perceptions, thoughts, and emotional states before they gradually unfold into paintings. Writing helps me understand certain atmospheres or internal images that later find a visual form in the work. I also often revisit my own photographs, memories, and small observations accumulated over time, and the painting usually emerges when these images arrive at a kind of mental conclusion.

The material itself also plays an important role in the process. Working on silk requires a delicate balance between control and unpredictability, since the pigment is absorbed by the fabric in a very particular way. The image is built through layers, densities, and subtle variations of light and colour, which demands a contemplative state of attention during the act of painting.

Although the process itself is intuitive, my working routine is very disciplined and structured. I enjoy having a sense of order in daily life and tend to be quite methodical with my time and studio practice. For several years, I worked continuously, almost without weekends. More recently, I have started allowing myself two days to dedicate to other interests that I also take seriously, such as chess, fencing, astronomy, and science more broadly. Although they are very different from painting, both activities involve prolonged concentration, spatial awareness, precision, strategy, and a very particular relationship with time and anticipation. In different ways, they end up influencing how I observe, organise, and sustain processes within painting itself.

Your work brings together multiple cultural references. How do you navigate the space between different identities or cultural frameworks?

I never thought about my work as a conscious attempt to combine different cultural references, but that coexistence has always been part of my formation. My mother is Taiwanese, and I grew up deeply immersed in Taiwanese culture at home while at the same time living in Brazil and surrounded by very different references and sensibilities. From an early age, there was always a clear feeling of somehow belonging to more than one place at once. Over time, this feeling has remained a very present question for me. In a way, it has become both clearer and more difficult to define at the same time.

I think this experience of moving between different sensitivities, behaviours, and ways of perceiving the world ended up deeply shaping how I observe things. Many of the atmospheres present in the paintings emerge precisely from this sense of displacement, contemplation, and the attempt to internally process experiences that cannot always be translated directly.

These questions appear in the work in a more sensitive and atmospheric way rather than a narrative one. There is a natural affinity with quieter and more introspective states, but also an interest in vastness, transformation, and belonging. I do not feel the need to separate these references too rigidly within the paintings. They naturally coexist and blend together throughout the process.

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

I do not think about inspiration as something sudden or external. My relationship with painting feels much more connected to a continuous state of observation and reflection. Many of the questions that run through the work, such as belonging, atmosphere, landscape, silence, or perception, are things that continue to follow me throughout life and never seem to fully resolve themselves.

I also feel that everything I consume and experience ends up feeding the work in some way, whether through what I read, watch, listen to, study, or simply notice around me. Science, astronomy, chess, fencing, everyday observations, and human relationships constantly influence how I think about space, time, rhythm, and image. Very often, a certain feeling, thought, or perception stays with me for a long time and later becomes both the painting and even the title of the work itself. In a way, I already know many of the paintings I will still make. It is difficult to explain, but I feel that these images already exist within me before they are painted. Throughout life, I am only gradually moving closer to them while they continue transforming along with me.

At the same time, I also have a very disciplined relationship with the practice. I do not always wait for motivation or a specific moment of inspiration in order to work. Very often, it is the process itself, the time spent in the studio, and the continuity of the practice that sustain the work. I think the need to paint has always existed very naturally for me, almost like breathing.

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

Currently, I am working on a few future projects while continuing to develop questions that have been present in my painting practice for a long time. I feel that I am entering a moment of transition within the work, with a growing desire to shift certain landscapes and allow new presences to begin emerging within this universe I have been building.

I will also soon be taking a few research and observation trips in search of different atmospheres and landscapes, something that I believe will naturally find its way into the next works.

I do not like to think about painting in a completely planned or fixed way, so many of these changes happen intuitively throughout the process. I think what can be expected in the future is a gradual expansion of this universe that I continue to develop through painting.

Text and photo courtesy of Fran Chang

Website: https://www.franchang.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/fr_chang