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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/
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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/
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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/
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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/
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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/
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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/
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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/
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Interview | Hong Kong-based Artist Mariah Solikin
Indonesia born, Singapore raised, Mariah has lived in Hong Kong for 25 years. Covid lockdown has rekindled her passion in painting. She is a self taught artist who uses acrylic and water colour to express her different styles, thoughts and emotions. Her current subject interests include word art, geometric shapes, lines, abstractions, Chinese characters and everyday objects to convey her perspective on connections, culture, humour, family and love.
Her styles are precision, pure colours, geometry, western and eastern influences which capture textures, emotions, patience, depth, effort and time. There is a poetry accompaniment for some of her paintings.
Her works are culmination of her self-discovery journey and her experiences living in 3 different countries. There are elements of contradictions and paradox in her works reflecting her personal feelings and her way of embracing both the complexity and simplicity of life.

Flow, 2023, Acrylic on canvas, 30 x 40 in Can you tell us about your background and how you started your artistic journey?
I am an Indonesian who was raised in Singapore and I have been living in Hong Kong for the past 28 years. My previous profession was in financial services.
It all started during pandemic lockdown when my kids’ screen time skyrocketed. Tired of the nagging, I began to paint: bold, loud colors and words that screamed for attention. An honest display and a chance for them to discover that any non-screen activities could also offer some joy. While I have limited success, I am rewarded with so much more. A personal artistic journey.

Surge, 2024, Acrylic on canvas, 76 x 102 cm How has your artistic style evolved over time?
I mainly paint acrylic on canvas and some water colours on paper. For acrylic, there are two themes: geometric shapes, word art, Chinese characters. These works reflect my experience in financial services and the part of me which craves precision, clarity and predictability. The other is more fluid: lines, movements and abstraction.
I describe my style akin to the double slit experiment in physics. In this experiment, light demonstrates wave particle duality. Why have one if you can have two? I also love colours. I think we humans are so fortunate to be able to perceive such a wide range of colour spectrum. As I gain more experience, I add complexity and different painting techniques to materialize the vision of the paintings I have in mind.

Glide, 2024, Acrylic on canvas, 30 x 40 in What are the main themes or concepts you explore in your work?
It’s essentially about life and existence. How perception of these changes when you view it from different angles. I was looking for answers in philosophy, physics and sacred texts. The paradox of eternal and fleeting; universal and individual, complexity and simplicity. Carpe Diem and Memento Mori exist simultaneously. How to reconcile and embrace these contradictions and irony, to live gracefully and truthfully. Some paintings have an accompanying poem. It’s strange, but words appear and flow at the same time as I paint.

Heart, 2025, Acrylic on canvas, 30 x 40 in How do your personal experiences and identity influence your art?
As we explore life and existence, you can’t escape from pondering about self and identity. Like many others who have lived in multiple countries, personal experiences tend to be richer and questions of identity might arise. While my works are the culmination of my life experiences living these countries, I go further from a physics point of view. There’s a super string theory which presumes that if we zoom into the infinitesimal, all existence is just waves of energy strings. So there isn’t really a question of identity.

Mahjong Series: Faat no. 1234, 2025, Acrylic on canvas, 16 x 20 in (each painting) What do you hope people take away from your art when they experience it?
My works are an invitation for people to dive deeper into themselves and the meaning of life. At the same time, to notice and treasure the lightness of everyday moments where true beauty lies. We all share universal experiences wrapped and delivered in different parcels.
Can you describe a recent project or artwork that you are particularly proud of?
‘Vision’ is one of the most recent works which is the largest at 40 x 40 inches. I was initially intimidated by the canvas size, but we became good friends. I’ve learnt so much more working in a bigger size. The feelings and the energy multiplied. So does the satisfaction. The theme is also one of the central themes about life. The infinite and limited, the endless and momentary existence, the fragments of totality, all combined into one.

Vision, 2025, Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 40 in Text & photo courtesy of Mariah Solikin

Website: www.mariahsolikin.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mariahsolikin/
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Interview | Los Angeles and Hong Kong-based Artist Li Shuo Phoebe
Li Shuo Phoebe (b. 2004) is an artist based between Los Angeles and Hong Kong. She is currently pursuing a Bachelor of Arts degree with a minor in Art History at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA). Through installations, sculpture, and performance, her practice explores how societal frameworks mold and deform the body, treating it as a double-edged form that is fragile yet resilient. Her works exist between geometric rigidity and organic fluidity, dissolving and reconstructing the body to reveal the tension between structure and vulnerability.

Bae, you are such a good enduring horse, 2025, Resin, metal, cow leather, silicon, motor, 120 x 77 x 40 cm Can you tell us about your background and how you started your artistic journey?
I was born in China and moved to Hong Kong during primary school. Now I am pursuing my Bachelor of Arts with a minor in Art History at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA). As part of Gen Z, I have encountered many questions and contradictions: the conflict of beliefs within my family, the shifting political landscapes between communities and nations, and the quiet sense of powerlessness when trying to orient myself in this world. Gradually, I came to see that these tensions could become material, something I could shape, question, and transform through my practice. Over time, my work has expanded into sculpture, installation, and performance, exploring how the body interacts with space and structure, how it bends, resists, and adapts. The journey is still unfolding, but I know with certainty that being an artist will be my lifelong path. It is the truest happiness I have found in this chaotic world.
Are there any particular mediums you prefer working with? Why?
I feel most connected to sculpture. Knowledge, for me, is corporeal and sensorial. They are not just ideas but experiences that live through the body. We use our materialized body to sense this materialized world, through rotating our eyeballs, through breathing with our nose, through touching. The sensations that move through us as we comprehend our world are what I try to translate into the form of my artistic practice. In sculpture, the tangibility of materials allows me to most directly transform my understanding into something physical. I am especially drawn to the interaction between metal and silicon. Their contrast between the rigid and the soft, give me the tension between resilience and fragility, control and surrender. By extracting the essence of my materials and placing it together in an interesting way, I build a bridge called metaphor. On this bridge, my audience can pass through it on their own feet, carrying their own interpretations to reach the other side. As an artist, my role is simply to build that bridge. To make a form solid enough that others can walk across it and feel something real.

See what you do to me, 2025, Metal, silicon, motor, wood, plaster, 175 x 180 x 35 cm What are the main themes or concepts you explore in your work?
My work explores how our bodies are reshaped by the world we inhabit. We use our materialized bodies to sense and move through this materialized society, yet the same structures that sustain us also press back, quietly molding our resilience. It is the resilience we build when facing a toxic workplace with a demanding boss, when enduring long hours in a crowded economy seat, when growing through the so-called adolescence, and beyond. Through sculpture, installation, and performance, I explore how individuals navigate, surrender to, or resist systems of control, envisioning the body as a form in flux, constantly melting, reforming, and hardening under pressure. In the end, I want to ask my audience: whether resilience is an act of adaptation or a quiet form of surrender.

What holds what hurts, 2025, Resin, 83 x 76 x 33 cm Can you describe a recent project or artwork that you are particularly proud of?
“Bae, you are such a good enduring horse.” It’s one of my most recent works I did in September this year. It draws from the Chinese meme “牛马,” or “cow-horse,” which describes people who labor endlessly, working like a dog and quietly sustaining the system that exhausts them. I was thinking about how, through constant impact and pressure, we become more and more resilient in the process of growing up, yet that same resilience is what keeps the machinery of oppression running. In the sculpture, soft silicone form keeps struggling against the sharp metal, pierced and stretched, yet still holding shape.
“It’s painful… but somehow still okay”
I see it as a portrait of our times, showing how we adapt, endure, and even find balance within the very forces that deform us. But I also want to push that idea further, to ask,
“Well…but it truly hurts! Are we supposed to bear it?”

Melting! But still sharp in somewhere, 2024, Resin, 100 x 55 x 50 cm How do you stay inspired and motivated to create new work?
Creation itself keeps me going. It’s the urge to give shape to what my mind insists on seeing. In a world where attention has been privatized by systems, where everything is categorized before it’s even felt, my way of resisting is simply to create. For me, it’s a return to the pure pleasure of working with materials, of sensing texture, weight, and movement coming together.
What do you hope people take away from your art when they experience it?
First, I hope my work can break people out of their usual ways of seeing, shake them from the numbness of the everyday, and make them pause for a moment to think, “Wow… that looks interesting.” Then, another thought follows: “Wait, this feels a bit like how the world treats me.” I want my work to open up a space to rethink what resilience really means, how our bodies endure, bend, and reshape themselves under pressure, yet keep adapting. Maybe in those shifting forms of my sculpture, people can recognize their own quiet strength, the kind of resilience we’re all forced to grow.
Text & photo courtesy of Li Shuo Phoebe

Website: www.phoebeli.net
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/phoebelii_/
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Interview | Hong Kong-based Artist Un Cheng
Un Cheng’s (b. 1995, Hong Kong) paintings invite viewers into intimate encounters with her psychological landscapes and personal reflections on urban life. Drawing inspiration from careful observations of quotidian life, fleeting exchanges with strangers, and quiet internal dialogues with her surroundings, her works function as a visual diary of her unique perspective on the city and its people. Through visceral compositions, Cheng reveals a deep yearning for intimacy and connection within an isolating metropolis.
Cheng graduated from the Academy of Visual Arts of Hong Kong Baptist University in 2017. Her works will be exhibited in “Painting Itself” touring Perth Institute of Contemporary Arts and The Australian National University Drill Hall Gallery in Canberra in 2026. Now, and Then? is Cheng’s first artist monograph, encompassing works from 2017 to 2025.
The Flowing Boat, 2017, Oil on canvas, 200 x 250 cm, Image courtesy of artist and Blindspot Gallery Can you tell us about your background and how you started your artistic journey?
I graduated from the Academy of Visual Arts at Hong Kong Baptist University in 2017. Shortly after my graduation, I collaborated with different galleries through group exhibitions. In 2018, I participated in a one-month long artist residency in Iceland, and in 2020, I took part in Blindspot Gallery’s summer artist residency program, after which I had my inaugural solo exhibition with the gallery. This marked the beginning of my artistic journey, which has become more comprehensive since then.

Boba, 2025, Oil on canvas, 44.5 x 56.5 x 4 cm (framed size), Image courtesy of artist and Blindspot Gallery What are the main themes or concepts you explore in your work?
My paintings invite audiences into an intimate encounter of my psychological landscapes and personal lens on the urban life I experience. The works mirror my observations of quotidian living in Hong Kong, the fleeting conversations I make with strangers, and the internal dialogues I have with my surroundings. The paintings function as a visual diary of my angle on the city and its people, carrying an ephemeral photographic quality. I morph my sentiments into my compositions, unveiling the heartfelt desire for intimacy and connection in an isolating metropolis.

Love Methadone, 2022, Oil on canvas, 18.5 x 31 x 3 cm, Image courtesy of artist and Blindspot Gallery How has your artistic style evolved over time?
My early works (2017-2019) primarily exhibited inner emotional expressions, featuring landscapes as a recurring subject matter. Rendered in candy-colored pastel palettes, these paintings often incorporated textual elements as semi-diaristic notations. At that time, I favored painting large-scale, populated landscapes with motifs—trains, boats, and airplanes—symbolizing the indirect connection between humans and nature. A deliberate absence of human figures reflected a sense of social detachment. In The Flowing Boat (2017), I wrote in its caption that “The ship is my inner world. Sometimes I flee from it but I return to the boat instantly, lingering repeatedly.” During my solo trip in Iceland in 2018, as part of my residency, I captured snow-blanketed, desolate streets and created a self-portrait, capturing a birthday spent alone.
Between 2020 and 2023, I started to focus more on observing external environments. Photography became my daily tool for capturing the streets, which in turn became the compositional foundations for my paintings. These works documented people and happenings in urban communities, changes in the environment, and interactions and dialogues I have with neighborhood personalities. During that period, I used brighter, more vibrant tones to depict complex sentiments, often incorporating striking contrasts with fluorescent hues. I would wield various tools and methods, such as scraping, brushing, grinding, and splashing, and incorporate mineral pigments and stickers, using implements beyond the mere paintbrush.
My paintings oscillate between abstraction and realism, depicting what I observe around me. My works completed in 2020 capture Hong Kong’s daily life amid social movements. In 2021, my works evolved into focusing on stories in Sham Shui Po’s neighborhoods during the pandemic. By the post-pandemic year of 2023, amidst economic uncertainty, I portrayed objects discarded in corners, taking them as metaphors for society’s transformations under invisible pressures.
My recent works have moved from observing external shifts towards encapsulating personal life experiences and reflections. They carry a consistency in color and tones. This inward turn in my works is accompanied by a more refined and mature approach to brushwork, composition, and themes that comes with experience as a painter. Moving away from vibrant colors, I now primarily use monochromatic tones to create a visceral and psychological ambience.

Drunk Dawn, Keys Gone, 2025, Oil on canvas, 44.5 x 56.5 x 4 cm (framed size), Image courtesy of artist and Blindspot Gallery Can you describe a recent project or artwork that you are particularly proud of?
I’m presenting my solo exhibition in Blindspot Gallery from 2 December 2025 to 31 January 2026. After nearly a decade of painting, I still hesitate to call myself a mature painter—yet these ten years of “back and forth” between materials, methods, and styles have led me to where I am. The works in this exhibition are sincere and intimate. I no longer shroud raw emotions in candy-colored hues. Instead, the works are more like a form of self-dialogue. A series of new small works in the exhibition brim with stories: they function as visual diaries that explore intimacy and separation. Drunk Dawn, Keys Gone (2025) and What did I puke? No Clue (2025) depict states of emotional incontinence, while Boba (2025) and Turned Out Like Skittles (2025) hint at relationships that are beyond repair. Large and medium-sized paintings in the exhibition portray landscapes, while other works feature indoor and outdoor still lifes, serving as a transition. Together, I believe this body of work represents a balanced and significant progression in the evolution of my artistic practice.

NO BARGAIN $10!, 2023, Oil on canvas, 52 x 42 x 3 cm, Image courtesy of artist and Blindspot Gallery What do you hope people take away from your art when they experience it?
As a painter, I always paint from my personal perspective, brimmed with emotions and thoughts. Sometimes I cannot clearly articulate what I want to convey. For me, painting is a way to document life as it unfolds. But once a piece is completed, it will create its own space for others to think and to imagine. Everyone brings their own understanding and feelings into seeing a work, shaped by their own experiences. If they find a resonance there—that would be good enough for me.
Text & photo courtesy of Un Cheng and Blindspot Gallery

Image courtesy of artist and Blindspot Gallery Website: https://www.ununcheng.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ah_uncheng/



