By Karolina Koval - special for infoBRICS

-  Contemporary Chinese art is often described as a dialogue between ancient traditions (like ink wash painting and calligraphy) and hyper-modern influences. How are today leading Chinese artists reinterpreting traditional mediums to address modern societal issues? Is this a preservation of culture or a reinvention of it? 

- When people talk about “ancient traditions” and “hyper-modern influences,” the first instinct is often to imagine them in opposition. But I personally dont see tradition as something static that simply needs to be preserved. For many Chinese artists today, tradition functions more like a living perceptual structure. Ink painting, calligraphy, classical gardens, rock art, folk mythology：these things have never really disappeared. They continue to enter new media, urban experiences, and contemporary systems of perception.

Since returning to China, Ive been collaborating with the China Academy of Art on a global rock art research project with the Digital Art Committee of the Zhejiang Blockchain Technology Application Association. Through this work, I’ve become increasingly aware of how ancient visual languages continue to resonate in the present. Our interest extends beyond conventional “image archaeology”; we are also asking how certain rock art symbols re-enter contemporary sensory systems. Bodily gestures, repetitive labor, and the relationship between humans and nature can all unexpectedly connect with new media art, AI-generated imagery, and immersive installations today.

A good example is The Sweeping Ones, a public project derived from The Sweeping Monk, an exhibition I''m currently developing with Argentine artist Julián Pesce. In the project, a bamboo broom becomes the central thread. It's an ordinary object used daily by street cleaners, yet it also carries deep cultural memories related to labor, time, and spirituality in Eastern contexts. Many viewers suddenly realize that what we call “tradition” has actually never left contemporary life — we've simply stopped paying attention to it.

So I tend to understand contemporary Chinese art as a process of translation. Through that process, tradition continuously regenerates itself.

- The 85 New Wave was a pivotal moment where Chinese art opened up to Western modernism. Nearly four decades later, how has the relationship with Western artistic canon evolved? Are Chinese artists still looking West for validation, or have they established a self-sufficient critical framework?

- The generation of the ’85 New Wave encountered Western modernism, existentialism, and conceptual art during a very specific historical moment: one marked by a strong desire to “open the window.” At the time, Western art theory carried a kind of intellectual and cultural enlightenment. Today, the situation feels quite different. Younger Chinese artists grew up within the internet era and globalized culture. They are certainly familiar with Western art history, but they no longer automatically treat it as the sole center of reference. More artists are returning to local experiences, regional languages, and Asian intellectual traditions.

Living and working between London and Shanghai, I've noticed a clear shift. In the past, many Chinese art projects were deeply concerned with whether they could be “understood by the West.” Now, artists are increasingly focused on issues emerging from their own realities: urban transformation, digital life, platform society, emotional structures, labor conditions, bodily anxiety, and so on. At the same time, China has gradually developed its own critical frameworks and exhibition ecosystems. Events such as the Shanghai Biennale, West Bund Art&Design, and the rapid expansion of Hangzhou’s art ecology all suggest that Chinese contemporary art is no longer simply being interpreted externally; it is actively producing its own narratives.

- How does the current national narrative of "cultural confidence" influence artistic production? Are we seeing a shift away from critical, avant-garde dissent toward more celebratory or nationally themed art, and how do independent artists navigate this space?

-“Cultural confidence” is a relatively complicated concept. On one hand, it has reactivated interest in traditional cultural resources. On the other, it can sometimes reduce those traditions into consumable visual symbols. Today we see a growing number of exhibitions and artistic practices centered around Chinese mythology, intangible heritage, and Eastern aesthetics. But the works that truly stay with people are usually those that move beyond surface-level symbolism and reconnect viewers with contemporary experience itself. Many young artists, for example, are revisiting regional dialects, folk rituals, plant-based cultures, manual labor traditions, and vernacular architecture. To me, this reflects a deeper cultural return rather than a superficial “guochao” aesthetic trend.

I had a related experience during the Year of the 龙 (Loong/Dragon) in London. I organized a forum and workshop called Loong’s Wish, which combined calligraphy, contemporary collage, and goal-setting as a form of art therapy. The project emerged from a rather personal and cross-cultural context. At the time, I was working as a docent at the Natural History Museum in London, and conversations around “dragon bones” often led to fascinating discussions between Chinese and Western audiences about the different meanings of dragons in their respective cultures.

At the same time, the Loong is my zodiac sign. In Chinese culture, there's a common belief that one's zodiac year may bring instability, and traditionally people wear red for protection. But instead of approaching it from the perspective of avoiding bad luck, I felt more interested in saying: “Yes, this year belongs to me.”My Chinese mentor also once corrected my use of the word “dragon,” insisting that the Eastern “龙Loong” should not simply be translated as “dragon,” because the two carry fundamentally different cosmologies.

So during Lunar New Year, I collaborated with CoexistCo., a Chinese creative community in London, and invited artists, writers, anthropologists, and calligraphers from China, the UK, Spain, South Korea, South Africa, and elsewhere to gather inside a contemporary Chinese architectural space in central London. While dragon dances were happening in Chinatown and Trafalgar Square outside, we were inside discussing memory, mythology, and identity through contemporary art practices — collectively trying to “see our own loongs.” To me, that itself was a form of cultural confidence.

I've also been deeply interested in Walter Benjamin's concept of the “Aura.” Last year, we organized the international symposium Center of the Aura at the Shanghai Bund Art Center, where one of the core questions was whether traditional modes of perception can still be reactivated in the digital age. Maybe Chinese artists today are no longer primarily concerned with how to “represent China.” Increasingly, they are asking how, within highly technologized conditions, people might reconnect with older forms of perception and sensitivity that have long existed within Eastern philosophies and everyday life.

- China is a global leader in AI development. How is artificial intelligence changing the creative process for Chinese artists? Are we seeing a unique"Chinese aesthetic"emerge from AI-generated art that differs from Western algorithms?

- In China, AI has merged into daily life at an incredibly fast pace. Since returning in 2025, I’ve felt that nearly every industry around me is somehow interacting with AI.

Within the artistic community, many younger artists are becoming less interested in maintaining strict boundaries between physical and virtual realities. They move fluidly between social media, gaming environments, virtual imagery, and physical installations.

But under these conditions, I don’t think the most important question is whether AI can replace artists, or whether AI is “just a tool.” What interests me more is how technology reshapes human perception itself. I've also noticed that many Chinese AI-based artworks carry a rather particular atmosphere. Compared to some Western AI aesthetics that emphasize futurism or cyber imagery, Chinese AI art often leans toward mood, emotional texture, and a kind of Eastern spatial emptiness or restraint. I suspect this has something to do with traditions of Chinese painting, poetry, and spatial perception.

- With the rise of NFTs and digital exhibitions, how has the concept of the"art market"changed in China? Given the regulatory environment around cryptocurrency, how are Chinese digital artists and collectors participating in the global digital art economy?

- NFTs went through a very dramaric phase in China. Platforms emerged rapidly and disappeared just as quickly.But the long-term impact has been deeper than many people expected. NFTs changed how younger generations think about collecting. Many young collectors today are less attached to owning a permanent object; they are more interested in participation, community, and digital identity. I’ve also noticed that many Chinese digital art projects are gradually moving away from purely crypto-financial models and toward more experimental cultural experiences — immersive exhibitions, interactive media, AI therapy workshops, cross-media performances, and so on. In some sense, the art market is slowly shifting from “owning objects” to “participating in experiences.”

- Cities like Shenzhen and Shanghai are hubs for tech-art collaborations. Can you highlight examples where technology companies and artists are co-creating immersive experiences? What does this say about the role of the artist in China's tech-driven society?

- Shanghai and Shenzhen are both extremely important experimental sites, though in very different ways: Shenzhen tends to be more technology-driven. Many of its art projects are closely connected to hardware, algorithms, and industrial production. Shanghai, meanwhile, places greater emphasis on cultural context and interdisciplinary exchange. Tech-art projects there often intersect with architecture, fashion, philosophy, and urban space.

In recent years, Shanghai has seen the emergence of many projects related to art therapy, immersive theater, and sensory experimentation. Technology is entering softer territories — sound, emotion, tactility, empathy.For example, my collective Aura Touch developed ROAM: A Kafka-Inspired New Media Art Therapy Workshop, where Kafka's Metamorphosis was translated into ASMR sound experiences, new media installations, and Paint-in-the-Dark therapeutic sessions. The point was never simply to create technological spectacle, but to guide participants back into a bodily state of perception. To some extent, this also suggests a changing role for artists today. Artists are increasingly becoming designers of perception and aesthetic experience.

- Historically, Beijing was the center of contemporary art. However, Shanghai has emerged as a commercial powerhouse with events like West Bund Art&Design. How do the artistic personalities of these two cities differ, and what does this dual-center dynamic mean for the national art scene?

- Beijing still carries a strong sense of intellectual depth and historical continuity. There is a long-standing culture of dialogue among artists, critics, and independent spaces. Shanghai feels more fluid and international. It sits closer to the intersections of global capital, fashion, and contemporary cultural production. It’s particularly skilled at generating new exhibition languages and public cultural experiences.

At the same time, I think another important shift is happening: Hangzhou is rapidly emerging as a third major node.What makes Hangzhou fascinating is the coexistence of the China Academy of Art’s academic tradition, the city’s digital economy, and a uniquely Jiangnan spatial sensibility. Spaces such as BY ART MATTERS at OōEli, B1OCK, ORRO, and Xima Gallery have helped create an ecosystem that exists somewhere between academy culture, lifestyle aesthetics, and experimental contemporary art.

- Who is buying art in China today? There is a growing demographic of young, affluent collectors. How are their tastes different from the previous generation? Are they more interested in local emerging artists or established blue-chip international names?

- Younger collectors are becoming increasingly important, especially those coming from tech, internet culture, fashion, and new consumer industries. Compared to previous generations, they are often less concerned with an artwork’s canonical status in art history. What matters more is whether the work — or the narrative surrounding it — can connect with their own lives. Sometimes that connection is intellectual; sometimes it’s simply aesthetic pleasure or an emotional atmosphere within a living space. Many are also willing to support emerging artists, independent publishing, moving-image projects, cross-media experimentation, workshops, and public programs.I assume art collecting in China is gradually shifting from a symbol of status toward a broader form of cultural participation.

- Within the BRICS framework, how is cultural exchange between China and other member states (such as Brazil, India, South Africa, and Russia) evolving? Are there noticeable trends in collaborative projects or mutual influences between these nations' contemporary art scenes?

- One very visible change is that connections within the Global South are becoming increasingly direct. In the past, many encounters between Asian, Latin American, and African artists still passed through Western institutions. That structure is slowly changing. For example, through translating Argentine art criticism and collaborating with Argentine artists on The Sweeping Monk, I realized how similar many of our concerns actually are: urban transformation, disappearing labor, technological anxiety, and the question of how local cultures continue to survive. These exchanges are no longer operating only at the level of diplomacy. They are entering much more specific artistic practices and shared lived experiences.

- For many years, Chinese contemporary art was curated for Western audiences. How is China engaging with the"Global South"directly? Are there new platforms or biennales that prioritize exchanges between Asian, African, and Latin American artists, bypassing traditional Western hubs like New York or London?

- From my perspective, more and more young Chinese curators and institutions are actively building horizontal connections across Asia, Latin America, and Africa, rather than continuing to rely on traditional Western art centers as intermediaries. The Shanghai Biennale is a compelling example. In its 15th edition, themes such as posthumanism, ecological perception, slowness, and listening were clearly present, yet they were articulated through Asian urban experience rather than simply reproducing Euro-American theoretical frameworks.

An even more direct casecan be seen in the Guangzhou Triennial：Since its first edition in 2002, it has continuously explored how the Pearl River Delta might function as a decentralized platform for Global South dialogue. Later editions, particularly the Pan-Southeast Asia Triennial, used the idea of the “tropics” and maritime cultural memory to imagine new forms of cross-cultural exchange. The 2025 Guangzhou Image Triennial, centered on “sensory ecology,” brought together artists from the Greater Bay Area alongside practitioners from South Africa, Brazil, Morocco, and Bangladesh, examining how technology reshapes local perception and embodied experience in the digital era.

What feels increasingly significant today is that new artistic networks are emerging through cities such as Shanghai, Seoul, Mumbai, São Paulo, and Jakarta — creating alternative routes of circulation beyond the traditional axis of New York and London.

- China hosts major international art events (e.g., Shanghai Biennale, Guangzhou Triennial). How do these events serve as tools of soft power? Do they successfully project a nuanced image of modern China to the world, or do they remain largely domestic affairs?

- Biennials inevitably carry a certain representational function, but what interests me more is whether they can create genuine spaces for discussion and reflection.One thing that stayed with me about the Shanghai Biennale was its refusal to become overly fascinated with technological spectacle. It focused instead on perception, listening, smell, movement, and other very basic human experiences. That curatorial direction felt significant to me. It wasn't trying to prove how technologically advanced China is. It was asking whether, within highly technologized conditions, people are still capable of relearning how to look, sense, and pay attention. To me, that can be far more powerful than straightforward cultural branding.

- What is BRICS for you?

- The first time I encountered BRICS was probably in a middle school history textbook — I vaguely remember a cheerful group photo of political leaders. But over time, I began to think of BRICS as something beyond economics.

For me, it represents the possibility of multiple worlds existing simultaneously. For a long time, global cultural narratives seemed to revolve around only a handful of centers. Now we are gradually recognizing that different regions carry entirely different senses of time, bodily experience, and systems of knowledge. I see BRICS as a new network of cultural circulation — one that allows art to return to concrete people, local landscapes, living languages, and everyday life. And perhaps the most interesting aspects of art and culture are precisely hidden within those connections that have not yet been fully defined.

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