Storytelling, Textile & Home: An Interview With Jiaoyang Li
In the latest installment of the Artist Series, we have the pleasure of featuring the very talented US-based artist Jiaoyang Li. Her artistic pursuits transcend conventional boundaries, embarking on a transformative exploration of text, narratives, and multimedia forms.
Through her intricate practices, Jiaoyang orchestrates a symphony of emotions and interpretations, seamlessly blending sound, visual elements, and tactile materials to craft immersive experiences that resonate deeply with audiences.
Join us as we embark on a captivating journey through the creative realms of Jiaoyang Li, where storytelling transcends mere words and artistry knows no bounds.
Jiaoyang Li. Image courtesy of the artist.SAH: Can you tell us about your artistic journey and what led you to specialize in textile art?
JL: My relatives, from my grandmother’s generation, were silk factory workers, and those from my mum’s generation, ran clothing stores for a living. I was basically raised in closets and showrooms. Though I am naturally close to fashion and textiles, I have critical relationships with textiles. I would say “textile art” is more of “Text-Tile”, a metaphorical thing for me. And I find text, textile, writing, and weaving have countless connections and similarities.
SAH: Your work often explores themes of "home" and "belonging." How do these concepts influence your creative process and the message you aim to convey through your art?
JL: For the past twenty years, I haven't been home and haven't felt a sense of belonging anywhere. This life of "escaping" and being "in-between" was a choice I made, and I've come to terms with it. However, I often face the scrutinizing gaze and questions about "identity" and "where are you coming from?" from audiences who carry their own preconceived notions and expectations, regardless of where I am or what I'm doing.
These interactions spark my research and artistic practice, where I aim to challenge and reinterpret the conventional notions of "what is a home" and "what is authenticity."
In my work, "Home?" and "Belonging?" are recurring themes, posed as questions to emphasize the concept of absence and the negative space surrounding the ideas of home and belonging. My focus is on what isn't, rather than what is, exploring the voids that define our understanding of home and identity.
Jiaoyang Li. Accent Sisters. Photo taken by Xinyi Lin.SAH: Your website mentions the integration of traditional Chinese embroidery techniques with contemporary art. Could you elaborate on how this fusion shapes your artistic expression?
JL: My piece, "Hanging Hexagram," is a textile video installation that intertwines traditional craft with digital commentary. I've repurposed embroidery hoops—not just as tools or frames but as integral parts of the textile itself—adorned with hundreds of headphones, computer cords, and mirrors.
These hoops act as scaffolds or homes, nurturing the 'fruit' of the textile. Yet, in our digital era, we are bombarded with an overload of information and distractions from social media and other digital media sources. These external influences weave the fabric of our reality, overshadowing tangible experiences.
The true 'textile' in my work is represented by the empty spaces on the voile canvas, suggesting that what we perceive as reality is often a reflection of our digital engagements.
The piece challenges viewers to see beyond the superficial, likening the installation not to a mirror or window but to a navel or dream catcher embroidered with ears amid chaos. A video projection of Sonja—a character who is a doula by day and a pole dancer by night—casts a hexagram symbolizing tender possibilities onto the textile, blending the tangible with the ethereal. This work embodies a dialogue, even a confrontation, between traditional craftsmanship and digital techniques.
SAH: What role does storytelling play in your textile art, and how do you weave narratives into your creations?
JL: Storytelling and writing are central to my artistic practice, serving as the foundation of my "text-tile" practice. The text provides narrative, concept, and background—it's the soil, air, and impulse driving each creation.
The process can begin with visual material, for which I then craft a script, or start with a prose poem that inspires an installation or performance. My works across different mediums are interconnected, engaging in a dialogue that resonates within a larger sphere.
Jiaoyang Li. Pale Fire: I miss my friends who have disappeared, 2023. Parchment paper, Light stripes with motion sensors, haunted ink, footsteps.
Jiaoyang Li. How I disappeared, Puppet Theatre.SAH: Could you walk us through the typical process of creating a new piece, from ideation to completion?
JL: I often take on commissioned work, each project uniquely tailored and distinct. I believe my affinity for such projects stems from a love of working within constraints and deadlines. Without these, I find it challenging to sense a completion point or urgency; a poem, for instance, could be endlessly revised over a decade, with the temptation to tweak a word or a line persisting. Commissioned projects, however, offer defined terms, timelines, and a sense of closure.
A notable recent project is Gatsa, a collection of poetry and lyrics, which is also a research-based artist book commissioned by John Tsung, the founder and producer of the Gatsa band. This project was particularly engaging. John and I first crossed paths during a puppet show production, where he was the music director, and I contributed as a writer and puppeteer. My poetry for the show's puppets resonated with John, inspiring him to conceptualize a music album based on those poems.
Our collaboration involved extensive discussions about the poems, intertwined with family stories and our experiences as new immigrants in the U.S. These conversations were rich with fun facts, excitement, and shared frustrations. John provided a list of images, objects, words, and titles that resonated with him, guiding a year of research and writing on my part. Initially intended as lyrics for the music album, the text evolved to serve more as a conceptual backdrop, standing on its own as a poetry collection. The ideas it explores are denser and more complex than typical lyrics, making it more akin to a book of poetry.
For the album, we collaborated with musicians from various countries, each bringing their unique interpretation to the text. Some translated it into Japanese and Korean using Google Translate, while others selected lines as springboards for freestyle performances, blending singing and instrumentation. Thus, the text I crafted served as a catalyst, fermenting into diverse creative expressions.
This May marks the dual launch of both the poetry book and the album. Though they run parallel, each possesses its distinct essence. This project represents a recent, fulfilling achievement.
SAH: Your artwork seems to evoke a sense of nostalgia and timelessness. Can you share the inspirations behind these evocative elements?
JL: My ongoing video game project, "Go to Sea," is deeply imbued with a sense of nostalgia through its retro pixel style. It's set in the 1990s in China, yet this setting is more of a stage than a direct historical recounting. The game uses this era to delve into questions of negotiating personal loss and pacing within an accelerated totalitarian society. Rather than adhering strictly to historical accuracy, it emphasizes narratives, personal memories, and feelings, akin to a detective novelist piecing together fragments of the past in a surreal reconstruction. This approach aims to offer diverse perspectives and gateways for reimagining the world.
"Go to Sea" is crafted for an audience that shares diasporic experiences similar to us creators, striving to be a meaningful, fun, and thoughtful experience for this group, in contrast to works that cater to external cultural expectations. The game incorporates unique references, such as the 淄博烧烤 (Zibo BBQ vendor) and 课外补习班 (afterschool tutoring classes), that resonate specifically with those who have lived these experiences.
Moreover, the game engages in meta-play, including scripts within scripts, for example, featuring contemporary art installations from 2024, created by fictional artists and accompanied by exhibition texts, all set against the backdrop of 1990s streets. This blend of the familiar with the strange, the convincing with the satirical,, inviting players to engage with it on multiple levels.
SAH: Collaboration appears to be an integral part of your practice. How do you approach collaboration, and what do you find most rewarding about it?
JL: It's fascinating that many perceive me as an extroverted and collaborative artist, yet my true personality is INFP. I predominantly work individually. Despite this, like I said before, I acknowledge the structured timelines, definitive conclusions, and broader exposure that collaborative projects often benefit from, thanks to the collective efforts of a team. These projects gain public recognition in ways personal endeavors, like my manuscripts and poems tucked away in digital notes for years, seldom do.
I value patience in nurturing personal projects, caring deeply for them and desiring them to evolve in a way that resonates with my sense of satisfaction. Yet, collaborative work has taught me the importance of completion over perfection. The adage that sometimes finishing a task is more crucial than holding onto lofty ideals rings especially true in teamwork.
Collaborating with the right people—those you trust and enjoy spending time with—can make the process not only efficient but also enjoyable. It feels as though you're merely chatting and hanging out, and then, almost the ideas flow and the project comes to fruition on its own.
This sense of effortless synergy was particularly palpable when working with Sonja Bjelic, Anne Carson's collective, and the zzyw team. Their partnership reminded me that while I may naturally gravitate towards solitude in my creative process, the connection and dynamism of collaborative work can bring its own unique and fulfilling rewards.
Jiaoyang Li. How I disappeared. Puppet Theatre.SAH: In what ways do you envision your art making an impact or sparking conversations within the larger artistic community or society as a whole?
JL: With two of my friends, I founded a publishing company, online school, physical bookstore and gallery, Accent Accent, with a mission to promote works that represent female, queer, cross-lingual, text-based interdisciplinary work. I curate exhibitions and publish authors whose work aligns with my beliefs.
We distributed and promoted their work on larger platforms, including the Met and the Whitney Museum. Reflecting on my time in poetry school in New York and my experiences back in China, I recall feeling that interdisciplinary poetic practices were not taken seriously.
Similarly, within the art industry, poetry is often overlooked as a component. However, I believe that, over the years, our work —has started to be more widely recognized and respected. We have gained legitimacy and built an artistic community that values and elevates the interdisciplinary writing practices that we champion. If there are too many gatekeepers, we would create a new garden and invite the gatekeepers over.
SAH: Looking ahead, what upcoming projects are you excited about, and how do you see your artistic practice evolving in the future?
JL: I'm currently working on integrating video poetry installations with drag performances, while also developing a TV script in fragments, for social media platforms. Recently, I've started to question the experimental and academic nature of my past work, recognizing that it often appealed within specialized art and literary circles. I'm now interested in exploring a mix between high art and popular culture. Hope to produce work that retains artistic integrity while being accessible to a broader audience, aiming for a blend of creativity that is both engaging and commercially viable. This shift is driven by a desire to connect with people across a wider spectrum of interests and backgrounds. And I believe the end of art is commercial and the end of commercial is art. That’s why when we see Marina Abramović selling skin products we still think she is revolutionary.
SAH: Finally, what advice would you give an artist just starting in the industry?
JL: I might not be in a position to guide others, but if I could speak to my younger self, I'd say: Continue to pursue what truly brings you joy and fulfilment. Don't get too caught up in trying to meet others' expectations, focusing on others' successes, or tailoring your work to market demands. Think and plan for the long term, be patient, and treat yourself with kindness.