ASIAN ART CONTEMPORARY | INTERVIEW | HONG KONG AND XI’AN-BASED ARTIST YAO CONG

Working across diverse mediums, including moving image, photography, performance, and installation, YAO Cong (b. 1992) investigates the intricacies and contradictions of contemporary existence. His artistic practice confronts the dual crises of ecology and identity, creating a compelling body of work that engages with these urgent challenges.

 

His works depict human figures in states of vulnerability, isolation, and alienation, prompting contemplation on the manufacturing and deconstruction of the body and wilderness within the context of the Anthropocene. Additionally, he critically examines how collective influences shape individual mentality through emotions and moral frameworks in modern life. Through an empathetic and fluid artistic approach, Yao Cong aims to provoke introspection and cultivate meaningful dialogue about the intricate interplay between humanity, wildness, and society. 

 

Yao Cong received his BA in Intermedia Art from China Academy of Art in 2014 and his MA from the Royal College of Art in 2017. Currently, as a recipient of the Hong Kong PhD Fellowship Scheme (HKPFS), he is pursuing his PhD at the School of Creative Media, City University of Hong Kong.

 

Yao Cong’s works have been exhibited extensively. Recent exhibitions include: A Mountain of Closeness, Beiqiu Museum of Contemporary Art (Nanjing, China, 2023); ART SG-Film (Singapore, 2023); Jimei X Arles International Photo Festival (Xiamen, China, 2022); Chengdu International Photo festival (Chengdu, China, 2022); Flies beyond the Clouds (Shanghai, China, 2021); Golden Flow – Beijing Contemporary Art Expo (Beijing, China, 2020); From/To: the Frontier of Chinese Art Education (San Francisco, USA, 2018); Holographia: 2018 International Art Festival, Times Art Museum (Beijing, China, 2018); VIDEONALE.16, Kunstmuseum Bonn (Bonn, Germany, 2017); Loop Barcelona (Barcelona, Spain, 2017); 14th Beijing Independent Film Festival (Beijing, China, 2017); 13th Athens Digital Arts Festival (Athens, Greece, 2017) among others.

 

 

I’m YAO Cong, an artist born in Xi’an, China. I’ve studied and lived in different cities over the years. Currently, I’m pursuing a PhD in Hong Kong. My hometown, Xi’an, has been an incubator for my artistic development in many ways, through experiences that have been both enriching and challenging.

 

To speak about an artistic journey is to speak not only of “art” but also of the idea of a “journey.” It is a way of looking back. If we define it through formal education and immersion in the art world, then my journey began during my BA studies at the China Academy of Art in Hangzhou. That was where I entered a concentrated artistic environment, where I was encouraged to focus on creative work and to cultivate artistic sensitivity. I was trained to become an independent artist. Most importantly, that experience helped shape both my personality and my aesthetic perspective. I also came to understand that ideas of beauty are shaped by social power structures and are always evolving, though I will not expand on that here. 

 

If I consider the artistic journey more personally, as an attitude toward life, then it began with my family. When I was a child, they never stopped me from drawing on the walls. My mother helped me make many handmade objects, which I now recognize as artistic, such as flowers made from colorful buttons and animal masks crafted from recycled paper. My family respected my interests and supported my creativity from a very young age. 

 

My hometown is known for its peasant paintings, and over time, the public tends to be more accepting of art, though often understood narrowly as painting. I began watercolor around the age of seven, Chinese ink painting at nine, along with folk dance and Latin dance. Later, I trained in drawing, sketching, and gouache to prepare for the national art college entrance exam. I mention this because I’m still impressed by the courage and sincerity, and the idealism that this path required from both my family and myself. Choosing to study art is never easy, especially for a family from a suburban area in a non-first tire city in China. In most cases, the decision about education shapes one’s future. Art involves high investment and uncertain returns. Within that context, it was a challenging decision. I feel fortunate to have remained on this path, continuing to work as an artist, supported by both my family and my own determination.

 

 

I think the most important thing is to remain sensitive. While part of this may come from genetics, much can be cultivated through reading, watching, listening, and studying different ways of seeing and thinking. Sensitivity allows one to perceive and respond more fully to the world, whether it’s the atmosphere or the events happening around us. It often deepens empathy, though that doesn’t necessarily mean being fragile or overwhelmed. That depends on individual temperament and the strength of one’s inner beliefs. Sensitivity sharpens perception, and deeper perception often leads to richer, more nuanced emotional experiences. Emotions carry moral content, and more importantly, they’re often the driving force behind action, even more than rational thought. 

 

In my experience, it’s also important to be brave enough to remain a beholder, who keeps seeking the truth of life. This kind of awareness takes courage, because it’s easy to become entangled in the moment or to ignore it completely. But the beholder notices, observes with a certain distance, and tries to understand the structures behind what is seen. Learning how to enjoy solitude is part of this. I consider solitude a form of wisdom and a precious gift from life.

 

Another key is to stay committed to practice. This isn’t only about making physical works, but also about continuing to think. Thinking itself is a kind of artistic practice. This isn’t just an influence from conceptual art in the 1960s, but also a more organic and sustainable way of working that connects art with life and truth.

 

Finally, I think it helps to be a bit of an idealist. To trust intuition. To keep imagining. And at times, to allow a little madness. That’s part of how we stay balanced, vivid, and alive in the world today. Life itself is the inescapable reality of art.

 

 

Before answering that, I’d like to reflect on what we mean by artistic style. I believe it gradually emerges from the interaction between internal and external conditions. It often carries an experimental quality and fluctuates naturally over time. Style is not something to search for, but something that grows through practice and lived experience. This applies not only to art forms but also to themes. They may tend to appear at the right moment if you stay attentive, engage in honest conversations with yourself, and remain open to the world around you. 

 

Still, in the context of the art world, this process can be compressed. For young artists, artistic inquiry is often shaped, or even constrained by the needs of the art market. Certain mediums, recognizable motifs, and obvious visual identities are often expected. These become familiar tags for collectors and audiences. People often fear uncertainty and fluidity, yet these are at the core of both life and art, are they not? 

 

As for me, during my BA studies I explored a wide range of forms, including painting, installation, photography, dance, theatre, sound, and moving image. This helped me reconnect with hidden interests and long-standing intuitions. I’ve always been sensitive to rhythm and bodily movement, which continue to shape my practice today. 

 

That period also shaped my values. I’m grateful to art, and to art college, for introducing me to powerful expressions from marginalized communities and non-normative narratives. These helped me become more honest and accepting of my own identity and sexuality, even though this was difficult in China’s social environment fourteen years ago, and still complex today. In my third year, I began focusing on moving image, drawn to its ability to weave together diverse media. I’ve continued to develop this form through my MA, using it as a tool to investigate sexuality, gender, and the body.

 

Step by step, I’m not sure if this is a style, but it reflects what matters to me now. Sensitive emotion remains the driving force behind my work. I intend to create exquisite, compelling body of works that critically reflects on how body, and landscape are manufactured and deconstructed today, and how individual and collective experience transforms the political into the personal, circulating through the complex dynamics of emotion, judgment, and ethics.

 

 

Interestingly, this question brings me back to the second one, it feels like a circle. The creative process heightens my sensitivity to the world, especially the ability to discover beauty and awe in everything, whether vast or small. Creativity sharpens my way of seeing. 

 

For me, interest is the best engine for action. It not only motivates me but also helps me maintain a healthy balance between life and work. Being creative allows me to explore different layers of my own interests, to understand them more deeply, to respect them, and to love them more fully. In a way, interest becomes a resilient bridge between the self and the world.

 

Another rewarding aspect is composure. Creativity gives me the strength to face reality more honestly, to investigate the deeper social structures that shape our lives. Through this process, I’ve learned how to stay calm amid complexity, and to become what I’d call a beholder, someone who observes with patience and awareness.

 

I also want to speak about the power of being non-normal. In China, and I think in many societies shaped by rigid norms, being creative or being an artist often implies a kind of freedom, a refusal to fit into conventional molds. Art is a profession without a rulebook, and that ambiguity is part of its strength. In that sense, the artist’s non-normality can be a subtle yet powerful form of resistance, one that points toward a better world.

 

 

Honestly, this question brings me back to reality.

 

One of the first challenges I faced was figuring out how to translate creative ability into income, how to survive, simply put. I’m still not sure whether being a professional artist can offer the same stability as a more traditional job. Maybe that doesn’t matter. Some artists receive consistent support through galleries or institutions, but for those working in forms outside of established markets or frameworks, such support is far from guaranteed.

 

Another challenge has been sustaining creativity amid the instability of life and income. In a fragmented and niche art world without consistent infrastructure or reliable systems, how do we create space for our voices to be heard?

 

Eventually, I came to accept that being an artist often means living both inside and outside the system. With that in mind, I chose to keep creating and imagining from the heart, while also seeking a more structured path that could offer some financial stability. Teaching art might be a natural choice, one that many artists pursue. I worked as a part-time teaching assistant at an art academy in China, and during that time, I realized not only that I enjoyed it, but that I had a capacity for it. That experience led me to pursue a PhD, which has opened more possibilities as an independent artist, while also offering me a protected space to reflect, research, and create.

 

At the same time, I’m learning to stay in dialogue with myself, and to find path that truly aligns with who I am. It’s still an ongoing process, learning how to keep creating while remaining true to myself, and how to live better together with family,  friends, the land, nature, and the earth.

 

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

 

I’m continuing to explore the themes I’ve developed in recent years, aiming to approach them from deeper, more nuancedangles. For me, artistic practice is not simply a mode of expression, it is a vital research methodology. My recent works engage with ideas of re-wilding and queer ecology, investigating the affective and experiential dimensions of human and nonhuman relationships, as well as the hidden anxieties and crises that modernity tends to suppress.

 

Since 2020, I’ve been developing an ongoing project titled A Mountain of Closeness, which explores the overlapping growth of “wilderness” and “body” within the context of contemporary civilization and the Anthropocene. The project is planned around three interconnected parts: Wilderness, Mountain, and Garden, each reflecting a different perspective on re-wilding and queer ecology. These range from the entanglements between queer bodies and wild landscapes, as well as explorations of identity and memory rooted in local culture and environment. 

 

Through this project, I hope to challenge singular patriarchal and anthropocentric narratives, opening up space for more plural, relational ways of understanding the world. It’s also an invitation to reconsider how we relate to the land, to one another, and to the unseen rhythms that shape our lives.

 

So far, four works associated with this project have been completed, Gold Words, Count, The Square Reserve, and Seeds of the World: Overture. I recently returned to Northwest China, where I am currently planning my next works and preparing for an upcoming solo exhibition.