Eilo Zou

Year of birth: 2002.
Where do you live: London.
Your education: MA Sculpture, Royal College of Art (ongoing).
Describe your art in three words: Materiality, destruction, transformation.
Your discipline: Sculpture, installation.
Website | Instagram

In your exploration of the human psyche, do you see your art as a form of personal catharsis, or do you intend for it to serve as a reflection of broader societal issues?

I initially turned to art as a means of personal catharsis. Writing poetry was never enough to contain my emotions, and sculpture and installation provided a tangible way to release them. These mediums became both an emotional outlet and a way to engage in dialogue with the world.

However, as I delved deeper into my practice, I realized that my emotions were not solely personal; they were deeply intertwined with the broader social environment. My experiences—feelings of anxiety, suppression, and fragmentation—were often reflections of larger systemic issues. As I explored themes of identity and marginalization, my work naturally evolved into a response to societal conditions.

My current projects mark a transition from pure self-expression to a more expansive discussion of social realities. While my work remains rooted in personal experience, I aim to create a space where individual emotions intersect with collective concerns, encouraging broader reflection and engagement.

Eilo Zou | Rickey

Could you tell us more about the symbolic meaning behind the materials you use, such as asphalt and iron? How do they relate to the themes of transformation and the destruction of self?

My use of asphalt and iron is not just about their physical properties but also their historical and symbolic weight.

Asphalt is an aggressive material—it blankets the earth, sealing the land beneath it, making it impermeable. It represents industrialization and urbanization, yet it also signifies suppression and erasure. In its molten state, asphalt is fluid and chaotic, but as it solidifies, it becomes rigid and unyielding. This transformation resonates with how individuals are shaped, constrained, and ultimately fixed within societal structures.

Iron, on the other hand, is a material that has shaped the modern world—building cities, machines, and infrastructures. It symbolizes power, permanence, and control. Yet, iron is also inherently unstable—it rusts, decays, and fractures over time. This duality fascinates me because it speaks to the illusion of stability. What seems indestructible is, in reality, fragile.

In my work, these materials are not just mediums but metaphors. Asphalt consumes, suffocates, and isolates, while iron supports yet deteriorates. Together, they illustrate the paradox of progress—the way industrial advancements create both order and destruction. I use them to question the structures we exist within and to highlight the tension between transformation and disintegration, control and collapse.

In your series, “A Black River Disappears Me,” you explore the fragility and destructive potential of the human psyche. Could you share more about how you translate these psychological concepts into your sculptural and installation work?

This series stems from an imagined black, viscous substance—something that engulfs and obliterates everything instantly. I wanted to capture this overwhelming sensation of being swallowed by an uncontrollable force, something that mirrors both psychological turmoil and the broader societal forces that consume individuals.

I work with materials like asphalt, iron, and industrial debris to create an unstable, collapsing presence within space. I want the works to feel heavy, precarious, and inescapable—both physically and emotionally. The blackness of asphalt suggests an abyss, a void, or an untraceable disappearance. Rusted iron suggests decay, inevitability, and the passage of time.

Through these materials, I aim to create an immersive psychological experience—one that is oppressive yet eerily seductive. I want viewers to feel the weight of destruction, to sense the tension between control and chaos, and to confront the fragility of their own existence within larger, indifferent systems.

Eilo Zou | Hand in hand

How does your background in sculpture inform your approach to installation art? Are there any particular challenges or synergies between these two mediums in your practice?

Sculpture taught me to engage with materiality, while installation forced me to think about space, perception, and bodily experience. My work exists at the intersection of these two practices—sculpture gives form to my ideas, while installation expands them into an immersive environment.

The challenge lies in how to merge physical materiality with psychological impact. A sculpture can exist as an isolated object, but an installation demands interaction—it requires the viewer’s body to be present within it. I am always negotiating how to make my materials not just visually compelling but also spatially and emotionally charged.

I see these two approaches as inseparable. My sculptures often extend beyond their physical boundaries, influencing the surrounding space, while my installations retain the density and presence of sculptural objects. The interplay between the two allows me to create works that are both materially grounded and experientially unsettling.

What is the significance of your ongoing study in Sculpture at the Royal College of Art, and how has it shaped the way you approach your work now compared to when you started?

Studying at RCA has profoundly influenced my approach to sculpture and installation. It has pushed me to question the boundaries of my practice and to think critically about how materials, space, and concepts intersect.

When I first started, my work was primarily driven by personal emotion, focused on material experimentation without necessarily considering its broader implications. Now, I am more intentional about how my work functions beyond myself—how it engages with viewers, how it operates in a cultural and social context, and how it can provoke deeper dialogue.

RCA has provided me with an environment where I can challenge my assumptions, take risks, and refine my ideas. It has also expanded my understanding of sculpture as more than just object-making—it is about constructing experiences, questioning realities, and reshaping perceptions.

Eilo Zou | Michel

How do you see your work evolving in the future, especially in the context of your ongoing series and your exploration of identity?

I see my work continuing to expand beyond static forms, incorporating more dynamic, immersive elements that heighten the viewer’s sense of instability and unease. I am particularly interested in how my materials—especially asphalt and iron—can be pushed further, not just as physical substances but as psychological agents.

In terms of identity, I want to move beyond personal narratives and explore how identity functions within power structures—how it is shaped, controlled, and sometimes erased. I want my work to engage more directly with the tension between presence and disappearance, resilience and vulnerability.

I also see myself exploring performance and time-based elements, integrating movement, decay, and transformation into my practice. Ultimately, my goal is to create work that remains unsettling—something that lingers, resists resolution, and demands confrontation.