Mulin Qiao

Could you share some memories from your childhood in Chongqing that first sparked your desire to create art?

I began drawing when I was about three or four years old. Growing up in Chongqing, a city that feels almost cybernetic, I was surrounded by a vibrant street culture where old neighborhoods and new developments intertwine through layers of murals and urban textures. This environment—at once raw and welcoming, steeped in both local heritage and restless growth—ignited my earliest desire to create. It gave me the confidence to root my practice in personal experience and to experiment freely, unconstrained by any single material or medium.

Who or what were your earliest artistic influences when you began studying curatorial practice and later fashion marketing?

During my curatorial studies, I was inspired by contemporary art and experimental cinema—especially Joseph Beuys’s concept of social sculpture, which revealed how art can become both social action and a form of healing. Later, while studying fashion marketing in Milan, I was profoundly influenced by Miuccia Prada and the Prada Foundation. Her pioneering vision treats fashion as a cultural laboratory, seamlessly weaving architecture, contemporary art, and narrative display. This approach reshaped my understanding of fashion’s intellectual depth and cross-disciplinary possibilities, encouraging me to work freely across materials and to create immersive, story-driven worlds of my own.

What draws you to create narrative spaces where private memories become shared reflections?

During my undergraduate studies in public art and curatorial practice, I was introduced to a wide range of creative methods beyond traditional painting. It was then that I discovered my fascination with narrative spaces. Working with spatial storytelling allows me to evoke empathy and transform private memories into shared emotional experiences. Many of my projects draw directly from my own life and growth, and I am often moved by viewers who tell me they feel a deep resonance with the work. Looking ahead, I hope to further develop this approach, continuing to weave personal history and collective memory into immersive environments.

In Orchid Spine, you transformed chronic pain into a powerful visual metaphor. How did this idea emerge, and what personal meaning does the orchid hold for you?

In creating Orchids bones, I drew on Chinese painting techniques and traditional symbolism. The work envisions orchids sprouting from cross-sections of the spine, inspired by my long struggle with chronic spinal pain. During moments of discomfort, I would imagine each vertebra quietly rooting and blossoming within. In Chinese culture, the orchid symbolizes purity and elegance, and in my meditation it became a metaphor for the opening of inner chakras—a transformation of physical pain into spiritual growth and resilience.

Your film Talk to Me but Don’t Speak experiments with silence and gesture. What surprised you most about non-verbal communication during that project?

This street-based art film explores what communication becomes when words are no longer available. What surprised me most was how eager people were to connect despite the language barrier. They instinctively turned to more primal forms of expression—hand gestures, improvised drawings, even sketching directly on the pavement. The moment when we drew together on the ground was especially striking: although we shared no common language, understanding emerged instantly. It made me imagine how early pictographic writing might have evolved from such direct, visual exchanges.

Living between Milan and Hangzhou, how does moving between cultures influence your artistic voice and themes?

My life often feels provisional and nomadic. Through residencies and curatorial projects I have moved across five or six countries, with Milan and Hangzhou as my main bases. Milan’s annual Design Week and its rich landscape of exhibitions have been formative, helping me define my artistic direction and leading me to join both the official Milan artists’ association and a Sino-Italian cultural exchange organization. Hangzhou, meanwhile, offers the vibrant energy of China’s new generation of artists. Immersed in the China Academy of Art and collaborating with West Lake cultural institutions and local museums, I have gained an equally vital perspective. These experiences of cultural interplay and global mobility continually expand my vision and push me to evolve my artistic practice.

How does your experience as a curator shape the way you create and present your own artworks?

I see the roles of curator and artist as two inseparable sides of the same practice, each enriching the other. I am grateful to work with both the intuitive sensitivity of an artist and the structural, spatial perspective of a curator. Curatorial training has taught me to think through spatial storytelling and audience experience: how circulation, lighting, installations, and text can create dialogue between the work, its environment, and the viewer. This perspective not only deepens my attention to the relationship between artwork and space but also cultivates a cross-disciplinary mindset, allowing each piece to unfold like a miniature exhibition layered with visual language, emotion, and thought. Moving fluidly between these identities enables me to continually push the boundaries of art, so that every project becomes both an artwork and a fully immersive narrative experience.