Across recent years, my practice has unfolded in shifting series shaped by changing environments and inner states. Each body of work carries traces of rupture and renewal, weaving fragments into evolving mythologies that mark both personal transformation and the passage of time.
In 2020, as the world shifted into an unexpected state of confinement, domestic life suddenly became central. People began seeking comfort in small rituals and objects that could soften the edges of isolation. For me, this new rhythm stirred an interest in furniture, soft materials, and a peculiar sense of alienation. With so much time spent online, I found myself creating works that mirrored my mental needs in that moment, strange, tactile, and oddly comforting.
Looking back, these pieces capture that inner state, while some of them were later featured as cover artworks for SVBKVLT’s residency mix with CRACK Magazine.
My interest in domestic animals and machines dates back to 2022, when I began exploring the concept of “tulpa“. Once a Tibetan Buddhist notion of a thought-form materialized through meditation, it has come to describe an imagined inner companion. What drew me in was its resonance with isolation: the ways people invent companions, whether as spiritual animals or speculative beings, as a means of romanticizing alienation and turning solitude into comfort.
“tulpa” holographic print in 3d printed frame
2022 was marked by turbulence in both personal and public spheres. I went through a dark phase filled with anger and anxiety, stirred by social restrictions, my struggles as a woman, my reflections on reproduction, and the challenges posed by AI.
These tensions shaped the works, carrying a dark undertone and a search for dialogue. They were also featured as cover artworks for SVBKVLT’s NTS residency that year.
In 2023, I left Shanghai for Australia, seeking refuge from the chaotic social constraints that had begun to suffocate me. Mentally, I felt I was nearing the limits of endurance, I could barely breathe under the weight of it all. After moving, I sensed that this place was almost predestined for people like me: a space to enact an “exodus,” a self-exile from one’s homeland in pursuit of discovering one’s true self. From this realization, I named my journey“Sub-Exodus”, a transformation into an alien, estranged from any oppressive status quo. It is a meditation on otherness, on the experience of being alien, and on the pervasive, often invisible forces of xenophobia. The new land, Gadigal, gave me inspiration, and it is reflected in the works of this period.
The journey goes on, in simply living the art.
Wang Jingxin 