Artist Ni Hao (倪灝),, 34, known for his 2014 series “Fresh tears, hot blood, wet kisses”,  unveiled two 3-D sculptures through Gallery Vacancy at Frieze London in October. Hailing from Hsinchu, near Taipei, Ni holds degrees from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and the Rhode Island School of Design. After three years in New York City, he returned to Taiwan in 2018 and had a solo show at the Taipei Fine Arts Museum the following year. Ni’s upcoming sculptures, constructed from industrial air filters, convey how humans interact with everyday objects. His work centres on the concept of constructing our living environments. 

We caught up with him for his perspective on being Taiwanese, pursuing contemporary art, and being educated in the USA.

CNTRFLD.     Congratulations on your recent show at Frieze London as a representative for Gallery Vacancy. It’s wonderful that you had the opportunity to showcase your works at this exhibition. How did it go?

NH.     ­The process of putting together an art show involves numerous considerations, and collaborating with a gallery demands extensive discussions and cooperation. It's a dynamic where neither side can entirely dictate their preferences, often necessitating compromises in the end. The production of the two sculptures was extremely rushed for various reasons; just three hours before my flight to London at 5am in the morning, I was still making parts of my sculpture to be taken with me in the luggage to London, having already stayed up all night the day before. Upon arriving in London, I was immediately thrown into the installation phase, which, once again, was hurried and stressful, as we had only two days to accomplish it. Although the sculptures did not sell in the end, the exhibition resulted in a New York Times printed newspaper article and provided opportunities to connect with both new and old friends, so I’d say in the end it was worth it. My previous visit to London was over 15 years ago, so it was a welcome chance to rediscover the city with fresh eyes.

CNTRFLD.     We are intrigued by the title of your series, "Fresh Tears, Hot Blood, Wet Kisses". Could you kindly expound on the meaning behind the title and its associated works? The two new sculptures showcased at Frieze, incorporate organic elements such as hair. We couldn't help but draw parallels between the human elements entwined within the confines of an industrial air filter machine and the experience of being confined indoors during the pandemic.

NH.     The first piece I created featured the text "Fresh Tears, Hot Blood, Wet Kisses," spelled out in car letters, which also became the title of the artwork. The two sculptures exhibited at Frieze London were named "Dedicatory Stele for You" and "Dedicatory Stele for Me," each containing distinct texts. 
I am not really sure what meaning the audience might get out of the work but initially when I made the piece I was just trying flush out a specific feeling about regarding the tension between the body and restrictive modern artificial systems. For a long time, my artistic endeavors have revolved around exploring the violent relationship between the grid and the body. Grid systems permeate our lives, acting as a means of control and organization in road planning, architectural designs, and how we consume objects and information. The grid signifies a systematic abstraction and dehumanization of bodies, and air filters represent one of those unseen grids employed to artificially regulate the environments in which humans live and work.

CNTRFLD.     Your inaugural piece from 2014 involved car letters being pressed into an industrial air filter. Could you kindly share more about the background that inspired this, and how your series has evolved since?

NH.     The origin of this series traces back to my graduate school years, where I began collecting car letters and emblems for a project exploring the politics of speed. I delved into how technological advancements accelerated various aspects of our lives to a point of perversity. Additionally, I explored the poetic possibilities of residue—the remnants or imprints left behind after certain actions and events, such as bruises and footprints. I gathered these car letters and emblems firsthand at local Pick-n-Pull automobile salvage yards, places filled with old cars where customers bring their tools to disassemble vehicles themselves and retrieve the desired parts. Initially, my project envisioned employing these letters and emblems as sorts or types for letterpress printing, aiming to craft large-scale poetry works on paper suitable for wall display. Years later, during a visit to a junkyard in Taiwan in search of art materials, I stumbled upon a sizable and pristine industrial air filter panel encased in an aluminum frame. Upon inspecting the pure white and soft paper filter, I felt an instinctive, almost violent urge to plunge my fingers into it—an act motivated by a potential artificial sense of comfort and security, as well as a primal desire to leave my mark as an animal. A few days later, with the car letters and emblems placed right beside the air filter, the realization struck me that these seemingly disparate objects, each possessing its unique potential, could be harmoniously combined to create something entirely new. 


CNTRFLD.     Could you also share where you were during the pandemic and how this passage of time may have influenced your creative process? Could you elaborate on this further?

NH.     My experience during the pandemic was very fragmented, surreal, and confusing. On one hand, I was in Taiwan, which remained one of the safest places globally, and life continued relatively unaffected. Yet, on the other hand, the global situation felt apocalyptic, with alarming reports and stories inundating media channels, alongside distressing narratives from friends around the world. During the first year of the pandemic, I managed to participate in a few local and international art shows, adapting to the virtual format imposed by the circumstances. However, as the second year of the pandemic unfolded, the impact became palpable. Suddenly, my professional engagements dwindled, and I found myself without any show for the entire year. The absence of deadlines left my artistic practice feeling somewhat aimless. Compounding these challenges, much of my time and energy became invested in a situationship that initially started well in the first year but progressively soured and ended in the second. This, combined with the uncertainties of the pandemic, eventually took a toll on my mental well-being, leading to a pretty deep depression in the end.


Thinking back now I am not sure how to rate my over all experience during the pandemic years, as it's difficult to pinpoint which aspects, whether positive or negative, were directly influenced by Covid. However, I do recognize that I was considerably fortunate compared to many of my friends from around the world.

 

CNTRFLD.     Do you feel more inclined to work with sculpture or video, or do you see yourself continuing to work in both mediums? Are there any new elements in your visual arts practice that you would like to share, anything new you’re exploring?

NH.     I consistently strive to embrace the full spectrum of artistic expression, recognizing that the essence of art lies in the freedom for the artist to make whatever they want for whatever reasons. Exceptional artists possess the ability to discern the inherent poetry concealed within all facets of life, as well as the ability to transform everything they touch into art.

For me, I find it essential to continually explore diverse mediums and methodologies, unlocking fresh possibilities for creative expression. This exploration goes beyond conventional forms such as sculptures and paintings; it could very much delve into performances, memes, relational aesthetics, texts, fashion, and more. Each medium serves as a distinctive channel for conveying ideas, with certain concepts finding their most authentic expression in specific materials within specific contexts.

Currently, I am acquiring numerous pairs of well-worn socks from individuals selling them on Twitter to customers with foot fetish. Each pair comes with a short video recording of the seller wearing and removing the socks. I am collecting both the socks and the accompanying videos to incorporate them into a series of large abstract sculptures that I am currently working on. 

 
CNTRFLD.     It would be great for our audience to know a bit about your background. Could you describe your childhood and what drew you to pursue an arts education in the United States?

NH.     I believe my upbringing was quite typical. I spent my entire childhood in Taiwan, and some of my fondest memories involve reading storybooks with captivating illustrations, sketching cartoon characters, and immersing myself in imaginative play within the confines of my home. I'd use anything at my disposal to create different stories and scenarios, bringing them to life through play.
During my formative years, my mother actively engaged me in the arts. She enrolled me in drawing classes, ballet, as well as piano and violin lessons. On the flip side, my father, with his extensive collection of Western movies, music, and the latest video games, played a role in shaping my cultural interests. His penchant for acquiring peculiar and fascinating design objects, such as lava lamps and projection clocks, left a lasting impression. These experiences became core memories, making it easier for me to connect with art and culture later in life.

The decision to move to the US was made while I was living in Canada after I had just finished high school. Compared to Canada, the US simply has better arts education and a much more vibrant cultural environment for the arts. After living in Canada for seven years, I felt like it was time to leave.

CNTRFLD.     You earned your BFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in 2011 and an MFA from the Rhode Island School of Design in 2014, followed by a few years in New York. What factors influenced your decision to attend these institutions?

NH.     When I completed high school in Vancouver, Canada, I faced the decision of selecting an undergraduate program from three options: Emily Carr in Vancouver, the School of the Art Institute Chicago, and Pratt in New York. Immediately dismissing the idea of staying in Vancouver, where I had resided for seven years, I visited both Chicago and New York. Chicago stood out to me as a calmer and more organized city, offering an environment conducive to focused work without excessive distractions. Conversely, my visit to New York right after high school left a strong impression; I was taken aback by the city's chaotic and vibrant atmosphere, and I felt that perhaps I wasn't quite prepared for New York at that moment. This feeling and thought remain vivid in my memory.

The decision-making process for pursuing my MFA at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) was another pivotal moment. I was choosing among RISD, the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore, and the Cranbrook Academy Of Art near Detroit. Once again, proximity to New York played a significant role in my choice, as I had a clear sense that New York would be my final destination.

CNTRFLD.     What was it like to be a Taiwanese artist in Chicago, Rhode Island, and New York during those times? How have the different places where you’ve lived and worked influenced your art?
 
NH.     I think what makes United States unique is that anything is possible and unpredictable, there is always a feeling that you're seconds away from violent death or the best experience in your life or maybe both at the same time. 

The United States is more like a salad bowl rather than a melting pot contrary to popular belief, where people of various ethnicities, cultures, and backgrounds often inhabit distinct pockets that don't always intermingle, similar to the way oil and water do not readily blend. However, there are exceptions to this, and pockets of integration and cultural exchange to various degree.

One of the most striking aspects of living in the U.S. is the profound influence of ethnicity on people's experiences. It becomes apparent where you are welcomed and where you may not be, and the issue of racism can manifest itself in overt or subtle ways, sometimes so subtle that you start doubting your own sanity.

During my time in Chicago, fresh out of high school after a long period of immigration to Canada, I didn't pay much attention to my Taiwanese identity. My primary focus was on acquiring new skills and connecting with people from diverse backgrounds. Most of the students, much like myself, were more concerned with having a good time and discovering who they are. Chicago's reputation as one of the most racially segregated and violent cities in the US exposed me to instances of racism and even a robbery, but I largely stayed within the safety of the school grounds. It was only later, when I became more politically aware, that I delved into research, exploring history and geopolitics to form my own understanding of what it means to be Taiwanese and how this identity shapes my experiences or can be used in art.

During my two years in Rhode Island, I had a very clear idea of what I was doing. Consequently, my primary focus was on producing as much work as possible and experimenting. It was also the first time I incorporated geopolitics as a theme in my work, delving into topics like cross-strait relations. Despite being the only East Asian person in my cohort, where most individuals were white Americans, it seemed that my identity as a Taiwanese person was never really brought up or discussed in anyway maybe I was already too Americanized in the way I talk and act.

 When I moved to New York, I was no longer protected by the academic bubble, so I was subject to the mean streets of New York. At the time, I had just graduated and immediately started experiencing post-graduation depression, as I had to painfully peel away all the lies perpetuated by art schools, such as the idea that my art mattered and people would pay attention to my work. I struggled to find shows and had a hard time finding a stable studio situation. Everything was quite expensive, messy, and resources were scarce due to the abundance of artists. I even got into some nasty studio rental situations where I almost went to court with a few people. On top of all that, I was in a long-term relationship that was starting to fall apart, and with how intense New York is, I gradually turned into an asshole like so many other New Yorkers just to protect myself, which I regretted in retrospect, and I am honestly glad that I moved out at the right time. However, I don't want to undermine how much good art, shows, parties, and friends I’ve experienced and made along the way that still inspire and influence me today.








CNTRFLD.     What led you to pursue an MFA, and do you feel this has helped you in your career as an artist? Would you recommend this path to anyone pursuing a life as an artist?

NH.     To answer this question, I have to preface by saying that I’ve only experienced the arts education in the US, so I am not so familiar with MFA programs in other countries that may have an entirely different art ecosystem, like Taiwan. In the past, obtaining an MFA degree seemed like the natural progression for artists after completing their BFA, a vital step towards pursuing a professional art career. An MFA offered not only a prestigious credential but also accelerated access to a vibrant artistic community, seasoned professors, a robust curriculum, state-of-the-art facilities, and, ideally, a school's solid reputation and industry influence. This enabled graduates to seamlessly transition into the art world without the need for arduous individual efforts to secure these resources.

However, I'm now inclined to question whether this remains an imperative path to follow. The proliferation of MFA programs in many schools, some with more students and shorter durations primarily driven by financial incentives, has, in several cases, diminished the MFA's former advantage and saturated the scene. Young artists today have a myriad of alternative means to garner exposure and cultivate connections without incurring exorbitant educational costs. On the flip side, it's worth noting that an MFA from a prestigious institution can still provide substantial advantages in various respects. Currently I believe that the decision to pursue an MFA should be made on a case-by-case basis, contingent upon factors such as the artistic discipline, geographical location, the artist's current career stage, and the timing of this pursuit, and more importantly one’s financial status.

CNTRFLD.     What influence has studying in the USA had on your work and personal outlook, if any? Can you tell us about your process? Your approach is very specific, using familiar objects to provoke metaphors. As an artist, do you feel it is important to try new things?

NH.     Studying abroad in the United States provides a chance to cultivate a diverse and enriched perspective. The absence of a safety net in the US compels individuals from vastly different backgrounds to develop independence, self-reliance, and a proclivity for thinking outside of the box. This environment not only encourages diverse problem-solving approaches but also actively champions experimentation and innovation across a spectrum of fields and interests, no matter how niche and obscure.

Leaving Taiwan at a young age provided me with the unique chance to immerse myself in American culture while upholding an objective and balanced viewpoint on both worlds. This bird's-eye view empowers me to selectively embrace the most valuable aspects of both cultures, merging them into something superior. Proficiency in two languages and a complete understanding of the logic and philosophies of these cultures grant me access to a wealth of knowledge from both Eastern and Western traditions. This knowledge is very useful particularly when I conduct in-depth research across a spectrum of themes and topics to inform my art practice.

From my standpoint, artists should maintain a perpetual receptivity to new ideas and experiences as inspiration for their work. The core of art resides in the exploration of boundaries, experimentation with fresh concepts, and the fearless embrace of the prospect of failure. This intrinsic quality of art serves to provide unique insights into our world, fostering a possibility to be in touch with the universe. 




CNTRFLD.     Do you have art on display in your home, and if so, what? Are there other artists, songs, or films that inspire you? 

NH.     I actually have very few belongings in my home. Years of moving around have taught me not to become too attached to material possessions because sooner or later, I might lose them one way or another. In contrast, my studio is overflowing with a plethora of art, random materials, and tools. This has always been a challenge because I frequently run out of space quickly. As for sources of inspiration, they come from a wide range of places and here are some examples:

Exhibition:
The 9/11 Memorial Museum's permanent collection stands out as my unequivocal favorite exhibition to visit in New York. This preference stems not only from the profound impact of the tragic event that reshaped the world but also from the museum's display of remarkably unusual objects. Among these are the countless everyday items that fell from the sky when the towers collapsed, transforming them into artifacts that defy easy categorization.
 [LINK]

Performance: 
"Unsilent Night" is a contemporary holiday music composition created by Phil Kline. In this unique performance, participants carry portable sound devices like boomboxes or smartphones, each playing different parts of the composition as they walk through city streets together. The result is an ethereal and immersive sound sculpture. I had the opportunity to experience this last year around Christmas, and it quickly became one of the most distinctive and memorable music encounters I've had in NYC. [LINK]

Songs: 

Lightning Bolt is an American noise rock duo from Providence, Rhode Island, composed of Brian Chippendale on drums and vocals and Brian Gibson on bass guitar. They are truly legends and Icons coming out of the Providence underground scene, and I was only introduced to them because I went to RISD. [LINK]

Film: 
"The Skin I Live In" (Spanish: "La piel que habito") is a 2011 Spanish film, a hybrid of thriller and melodrama, written and directed by Pedro Almodóvar. It features the talents of Antonio Banderas and Elena Anaya. While I watched this movie quite some time ago, I was struck by its stunning cinematography and editing. It masterfully combined elements of horror, humor, and an eerie sense of the strange, creating a unique and memorable viewing experience that truly left a lasting impression on me. [LINK]

Artist:
Israel Keyes was an American serial killer who meticulously planned and executed a series of murders between 2001 and 2012. His distinctive method involved creating "kill kits" or "kill buckets" hidden in remote locations all across the US, containing tools and weapons he would use for the abductions and murders that would take place years later. By employing these pre-prepared kits, he committed opportunistic, sadistic and random murders with efficiency and left minimal evidence behind, confounding law enforcement. [LINK]

CNTRFLD.     That sounds dark. Can you please provide more insight into how you draw inspiration from Israel Keyes and explain why you identify him as an artist?

NH.     Israel Keyes stands out from all the other killers because of how he went about killing: he would drive and fly to different parts of the United States and hide buckets full of murder weapons and tools or "kill kits," only to visit the location years later to retrieve the items when ready to kill. The way he picked victims was also completely random and opportunistic, working with whatever he could get. On top of that, he was a completely functional and normal individual on the surface, with a typical family, which is why he was never caught for a long time.

This relates to my artistic practice in two ways. Firstly, in my training as a sculptor, I've embraced a method of blind exploration. This involves initiating the creative process without overthinking, merely engaging hands-on to craft something—anything. Through pushing this process into more experimental and unconventional realms, I arrive at uncharted artistic territories. Once the creation reaches its conclusion, I analyze the new techniques and their potential significance. This internalization and rationalization integrate into my broader artistic direction. The pure need to create becomes an instinctive drive, akin to a physical sport, or that of the desire to kill,  focusing on generating and resolving creative challenges.


Conversely, I often delve into diverse subjects through research or initiate projects by collecting materials, storing them away for future use. Often, these distinctive projects—employing specific materials and methodologies—reside in my mind for years until an appropriate opportunity arises to bring them back to life.

Through this exploration of varied knowledge domains in art-making, I've built a comprehensive knowledge base. This forms a rhizomatic network spanning across disciplines. This network empowers me to move freely across ideas, inspirations, knowledge, and techniques horizontally. When similarities emerge between disparate elements, it's akin to assembling Lego pieces—extracting bits from various sources until a new creation emerges.


While I continually explore the boundaries of art, I acknowledge that the creative ways in which people hurt each other can sometimes undeniably be considered artistic. I mentioned him to elicit a reaction from the audience, adding a bit of controversy to the interview to prompt reflection on what art is and can be.

CNTRFLD.     From your own experience, is there any other advice you would give to other Taiwanese individuals pursuing an education in the arts?

NH.     We are currently navigating a peculiar and challenging period where realities seem to have fragmented into countless pieces. Norms are in a constant state of upheaval, undergoing continuous alteration without offering any clear recourse or alternatives. In this scenario, aesthetics has evolved into a perpetual battleground. Even nations at war are compelled to incessantly produce online contents that captures people's attention, engaging in direct competition and overlapping with cute animals and influencers.

In today's visually overloaded environment, driven by the production of dopamine and fueled by increasingly sophisticated visual stimuli in advanced technologies, consumer culture emerges as an invasive force. It tends to transform everything into commodities with monetary value, stripping away their original context and rendering them meaningless. This phenomenon poses a significant challenge in the realm of aesthetics and represents a crisis within the world of art.

Comprehending this context holds significant importance because, in its purest essence, art becomes increasingly crucial as a tool, a practice, a mindset, and a means of perceiving and navigating the world. It enables us to reconstruct narratives and systems from numerous fragments, contributing to the restoration of coherence in our world. In this process, we have the opportunity to make the world whole again and, remarkably, to create something even better than previous iterations. Art remains one of the few avenues allowing us to unleash our imaginations, envision futures, forge connections, and experiment freely without constraints.

 Art transcends the realm of pretty objects, power, fame, and monetary gain; it delves into harnessing the most potent magic in the universe. Mastery of art requires a lifetime commitment—it's not for the faint-hearted. It's akin to a journey to Mordor, a solitary and challenging path. However, upon reaching understanding, you unlock freedom in its purest and truest form. If you believe that pure art can encompass anything other than using the power of real magic to comprehend the universe, then I recommend that you entirely abandon art making and explore other avenues to satisfy your shallow earthly desires, as you appear to have already strayed from the path of righteousness.

CNTRFLD.      Lastly, where are you currently based, and what led you to choose this location as the place to live and create your art?

NH.      I am currently living and working in Hsinchu city, Taiwan, which is where I am originally from, I left here when I was 12 to immigrate to Canada and then after finishing middle school and high school I moved to Chicago for SAIC, later RISD, and then New York, and then came back to Taiwan in 2018 to do a solo show at TFAM, which was postponed to 2019. After doing many shows and finishing the solo it was the end of 2019 and I was planning to go back to New York in 2020 but then a pandemic happened so I stayed. When the pandemic was over I ran out of my O1 artist visa, and by this time my new studio was already set up and running, so I just ended up where I am. 



Good thing about Taiwan is that things are relatively cheaper when it comes to living and materials and many other services, especially its proximity to China, I also do not have to pay rent as my studio is on family property. Another good thing is that now the art world is pivoting to East Asia heavily, I hope that this can help me get more opportunities in the region. My galleries Vacancy Shanghai and T293 Rome are both international galleries, so I get to show abroad quite often, much more than many artists here in Taiwan. I also try quite hard to apply to opportunities abroad, so I don't lose touch with the international art scene or the discourse.



Bad thing about being here is that Taiwan's art world is pretty bad, nearly all cultural activities in Taiwan are 100% funded by the government, which has a very outdated understanding of the arts and culture. Young people do not compete with each other or try hard as there are very few commercial activities, to be successful is more about your connection to professors and other gatekeepers. This art world creates art "professionals” who are not qualified at all, but are good politicians who are good at mooching their ways into government funding. Audiences here have no good understanding of art as the education here does not focus on art at all. Furthermore, the government here utilizes arts and culture often purely as propaganda machines to help with elections and not much else in long term planning. 



I think being here in Taiwan is beneficial in many ways but it's by no means permanent. I definitely want to engage in the New York art scene more but the US in general is its own ecosystem in different places that are self-sustaining and tends to be more locally engaged rather than having any need to be international, so unless you're living in the US, it is not that easy to find a reason to engage. When I moved to New York in 2014 to 2018, I was a very young and inexperienced artist, so naturally I did not get too many meaningful opportunities or connections then, but I do hope that I get to show in New York in the near future. In the recent years I am trying to engage more in Europe as I have been showing in the region, so that is what I am trying to build towards. 

CREDITS:

1.  Illustrated portrait of Ni Hao by Maria Chen, inspired by Jut Art Museum photo, supplied by the artist.
2.  Dedicatory Stele for Me Dedicatory Stele for You
3.  Fresh tears, hot blood, wet kisses
4-8.  Dedicatory Stele for Me Dedicatory Stele for You