Lyn Liu‘s work explores psychological tensions in relationships through uncanny cinematic tableaux, drawing from personal experiences of alienation. With symbolism and an absurd atmosphere, she prompts reflections on oppressive social realities. Depicting concealed identities and masked figures in tightly rendered dreamscapes, Liu employs a voyeuristic instinct as a visual strategy rooted in her own experiences as a perpetual outsider.
ART
Influenced by existentialist philosophies, she incorporates striking symbols and animal subjects to amplify the confusion of spectacle and the alienation that may accompany a state of observation.
Your work often features a narrative or a storytelling element. What role does narrative play in your art? How do you develop the stories behind your pieces? – The narrative plays a significant role in my works, where each piece has a different story under a unified core. However, I am mindful of avoiding telling the complete story in my artwork. I like to use the limitations of painting as a static image to depict moments before or after the climax of a story, such as “the eve of a disaster” or “after the celebration.” These moments are often quiet and metaphorical. I have a penchant for observation, which leads me to meticulously gather intriguing social spectacle moments that deviate slightly from the norm in everyday life. I then extract the inherent absurdity within them to incorporate into my works.
For instance, something I recently observed on the New York subway is that when the train approaches a station, the doors don’t always open on the same side. Many passengers tend to favor standing near the doors, so when they position themselves near a door that happens to open, they walk toward the door on the opposite side to avoid the incoming crowd. In the subway line I am familiar with, there are three stations where the door side changes at each stop. Almost every time I take the subway, I witness passengers constantly shifting positions and walking towards the opposite side at these three stations, as if the subway is playing tricks on them. I find this scene intriguing because, in reality, there aren’t many people boarding the train. These passengers could easily remain in their original spots, yet they believe that the door they stand next to might remain open, and they want to avoid encountering more boarding passengers. What resonates with me is that I see this as an expression of people’s lack of trust in their surroundings and strangers in public places, as well as their fear of uncertainty. This way of avoiding interaction with others within a confined space is quite fascinating to me. It makes me contemplate creating a painting of a public space where all passengers can feel secure. If each person has an individually designated and marked pathway, conflicts can be avoided.
I seek refuge in the role of a detached observer, purposefully maintaining a calculated distance that provides a semblance of security. This state of self-alienation, characterized by a “relation of relationlessness,” can also be viewed as a manifestation of deficient relation.
The notions of light, staging, and costume appear to hold great significance within your artistic practice. Could you elaborate on how you employ this cinematic methodology to narrate the tale? – Films have always been a significant source of inspiration for me. When I took film classes in school, we often analyzed movies from different angles. For example, we would examine how a particular lighting setup provides clues to the audience or how different composition techniques create certain effects. Before I start a painting, I like to approach it from a cinematic perspective, considering aspects such as lighting, costumes, and sometimes even incorporating background sounds to complement the artwork. I take on the director role in my artworks, where the narratives resemble performance art. The individuals depicted in my paintings are akin to performers on a stage.
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Your work delves into the concept of alienation from a profoundly intimate perspective. Does your artistic output serve as a means for you to transcend the feeling of detachment? – In the intricate tapestry of contemporary society, I perceive a profound interdependence among individuals, where intimate relationships assume a paradoxical nature of voluntary coercion. Once deeply entangled in the intricacies of such connections, extricating oneself becomes an arduous task, be it in the realm of interpersonal dynamics, communal bonds, spatial interactions, or even the entanglement with one’s own emotional tapestry. The unyielding grip of these inescapable and uncontrollable intimate ties evokes a sense of unease within me. Consequently, I seek refuge in the role of a detached observer, purposefully maintaining a calculated distance that provides a semblance of security. This state of self-alienation, characterized by a “relation of relationlessness,” can also be viewed as a manifestation of deficient relation.
I used to view painting as a means to better understand myself, but recently, I have come to realize that it is also a way to satisfy my urge for self-expression.
Are you pessimistic about the direction the world is heading in? – I have always considered myself neither optimistic nor pessimistic, but after completing this exhibition piece, I realized that I have perceived “tomorrow” as “the end of the world.”
Who (if anyone) do you feel you make art for? – I have never really thought about this question before. I used to view painting as a means to better understand myself, but recently, I have come to realize that it is also a way to satisfy my urge for self-expression.
Tell us about your work presented at the Day Before Tomorrow exhibition. – The piece titled Science Experiment refers to an actual experiment demonstrating the concept of air pressure. When a piece of paper is removed between two glasses of water, the water remains contained. However, if the paper is not removed quickly, there is a possibility of failure. I intend to use this experiment as a metaphor for the dangers of uncertainty. The outcome cannot be predicted until it unfolds.
Regarding Ras-le-bol (red chairs), which translates to “my bowl is full,” in this artwork, the stacked red chairs symbolize overwhelming and unmanageable emotions. They progressively accumulate, reaching greater heights until they eventually collapse, but it is difficult to predict when these chairs will fall.
What happens the day before tomorrow? – Nothing may happen at all; just like any other ordinary day.
DSCENE Magazine joined forces with the esteemed Eugster II Belgrade gallery for a group exhibition entitled “DAY BEFORE TOMORROW.” Curated by the visionary talent of Vuk ?uk, this also marks his curatorial debut, showcasing a remarkable group of artists, including the likes of Lyn Liu, Eva Papamargariti, Zarina Nares, Filip Kostic, Damien H. Ding, and Vuk ?uk himself.
