THE THIRD CHAPTER : INTERVIEW WITH Kavieng Cheng (ENGLISH VER.)
In this conversation, Kavieng Cheng reflects on a practice shaped by intimacy, emotional restraint, and the ways experiences continue to influence our relationships with others. Through sculptural installations such as Unburned, made from one thousand hand-formed porcelain cigarette butts, and PufferFish, which explores the tension between closeness and self-protection, Cheng considers how emotions that are difficult to articulate can take physical form. The work invites us to look beyond what is immediately visible and consider what remains when something appears to have ended.
In this chapter of The Core Message, we explore the questions that continue to guide Cheng’s practice, from whether emotions ever truly disappear to how art can make space for uncertainty, memory, and unresolved experiences. Reflecting on the development of the practice and the role of repetition, material, and time in the creative process, Cheng considers art not as a means of providing answers, but as a way of staying with difficult questions long enough for something new to emerge.
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Q. Thank you for joining us. To begin our conversation, we are curious to know how you define your identity as an artist at this moment and what central theme most occupies your thoughts.
A. At this stage of my practice, I see myself less as a technique-driven artist and more as someone who uses art to think through questions. I'm not particularly interested in making images that are simply beautiful. What matters to me is whether a work can give shape to something that is difficult to articulate, whether that's an emotion, a relationship, or an experience that doesn't easily fit into words.
The theme I keep returning to is intimacy. I'm interested in the tension between wanting to be close to someone and wanting to protect yourself at the same time. We are constantly navigating that space between approaching and withdrawing, opening up and holding back. For me, that ongoing negotiation says a lot about how we love, how we connect, and how we make sense of who we are.
Q. Is there a specific piece among your works that you feel most clearly embodies this "core message"? We would love to hear the story behind that work and why it holds such a special place in your heart.
A. It's difficult to choose just one work because, in different ways, Waste Your Time Project, Unburned, PufferFish, and Fenshu all return to the same concern: how emotions that are difficult to articulate can be given a form that allows them to stay with us a little longer.
Unburned is a sculptural installation made up of one thousand hand-formed porcelain cigarette butts. I don't smoke, but I was drawn to the repetitive act of making them. Each one is pressed, shaped, and formed by hand, allowing traces of time, touch, and emotion to settle into the material. Porcelain cannot burn, so the cigarettes can never be consumed. For me, that contradiction feels like a goodbye that never fully arrives, something finished yet somehow unresolved. The work turns a disposable object into something unexpectedly permanent, asking what happens when emotions refuse to disappear as quickly as we would like them to.
PufferFish approaches a similar question through intimacy. At the centre of the installation, a balloon slowly inflates and deflates like a surrogate lung, creating a rhythm of expansion and retreat. Around it, a field of needles suggests both protection and danger. The work grew out of my interest in the tension between wanting closeness and needing defence. It reflects the way relationships often require constant adjustment, where moving too close or too far can both carry consequences.
Fenshu explores separation and memory through hair, a material that retains a strong connection to the body and personal history. The work began as a reflection on endings, particularly the moments that continue to linger long after something has already ended. Rather than treating heartbreak as a single event, I was interested in how it continues to unfold over time and how memories remain attached to us in ways we don't always expect.
These works are important to me because they remind me that I'm less interested in telling romantic stories than in understanding how emotions are carried, preserved, and transformed over time.
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Fenshu 分書 |
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Fenshu 分書 |
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| Fenshu 分書 |
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Fenshu 分書 |
Q. Sometimes, the most important messages are felt rather than seen. Is there a "whisper" or a subtle atmosphere in your work that you hope the audience will sense, even if it’s hard to put into words?
A. I hope viewers experience a sense of lingering.
In Unburned, the porcelain cigarette butts never burn away. They remain suspended in a state between use and disappearance, carrying a quiet feeling of incompletion. There is something stubborn about their stillness, as if they refuse to let a moment fully pass.
In PufferFish, I hope people sense a different kind of tension. The movement is calm and repetitive, almost like breathing, but beneath it is the constant possibility of rupture. It's a feeling many of us recognise: wanting to move closer to someone while also wanting to protect ourselves.
More than anything, I hope the works create a space where people become aware of emotions that often exist underneath the surface of everyday life.
Q. Artists often find themselves returning to a certain inquiry. What is the persistent question you find yourself asking through your art, regardless of how your style may change?
A. The question I keep returning to is: Do emotions ever truly disappear, or do they simply change form?
Each work approaches that question differently. In Unburned, something that should disappear is made permanent. In PufferFish, emotional tension becomes visible through rhythm, movement, and space. In Fenshu, an ending becomes less about closure and more about what continues afterward.
Underlying all of these works is a curiosity about memory, attachment, and the ways experiences remain with us even when we believe we have moved on.
Q. In an era of rapidly changing trends, how do you maintain your own pace and stay focused on the voice that matters most to you?
A. I try not to think too much about whether a work feels timely. What matters to me is whether the question behind it still feels necessary.
I've always believed that meaningful work takes time, both to make and to experience. Art isn't something I think should be consumed instantly. Ideally, a work changes as people change. Someone might encounter it at different moments in their life and see something entirely different each time.
As long as a question continues to stay with me, I know there's still something worth exploring.
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Unburned 未燃的晚安 |
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Unburned 未燃的晚安 |
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Unburned 未燃的晚安 |
Q. During the creative process, is there a specific moment or a sensation of "rightness" that tells you a piece has successfully captured your intended message?
A. I know a work is working when I can step back from it.
There's a moment when it stops needing my explanation and starts creating its own conversation with the viewer. If someone stands in front of PufferFish and becomes conscious of their distance from it, or stands among the porcelain cigarette butts of Unburned and begins thinking about what remains after something is over, then the work has already started speaking on its own.
Those moments are often more meaningful than anything I could explain through words.
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| Unburned 未燃的晚安 |
Q. Beyond the final result, what part of the "act of creating" itself do you find most precious or aligned with your personal values?
A. What I value most is the slow, repetitive nature of making.
There is something meaningful to me about spending hours with a material and allowing a feeling to gradually take shape through labour. In Unburned, every porcelain cigarette butt carries traces of that repetition. In Fenshu, the process of transforming a fleeting emotional moment into a physical object felt almost like a form of rewriting or re-understanding an experience.
For me, making art isn't only about producing an artwork. It's about giving time and attention to something that might otherwise remain difficult to understand. The process becomes a way of holding onto a question long enough for it to reveal something new.
A. Studying in the UK had a significant impact on me.
Growing up in Hong Kong, I often felt that emotional restraint was valued. There was a tendency to focus on what could be controlled: presentation, appearance, and doing things properly. Living abroad exposed me to different attitudes towards emotion, vulnerability, and personal expression.
That experience made me realise that art could be more than visual communication. It could become a space for uncertainty, contradiction, and difficult questions. It encouraged me to move beyond aesthetics and towards something more personal and reflective.
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| PufferFish 刺魨 |
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| PufferFish 刺魨 |
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| PufferFish 刺魨 |
Q. As your practice has evolved, how has your core message shifted or become more defined over time?
A. I wouldn't say the core message has changed dramatically, but it has become clearer.
Earlier on, I was more interested in how art could communicate ideas visually. Over time, my attention shifted towards the emotional structures we carry within us: memories, habits, fears, attachments, and the patterns that shape our relationships.
I've become less concerned with maintaining a consistent visual language and more interested in maintaining a consistent curiosity. The work changes, but the questions remain.
A. I hope viewers begin thinking less about the artwork itself and more about their own experiences.
Questions like: How do I protect myself in relationships? What emotions have I convinced myself I've moved on from? What still remains beneath the surface?
I don't hope for a specific answer. Rather, I hope the work leaves behind a quiet awareness that some endings never completely disappear. They stay with us, becoming part of how we breathe, how we remember, how we relate to others, and how we make choices moving forward.
If there's an echo I hope remains, it's the recognition that what we leave behind is never entirely gone. Sometimes it simply takes on a different shape and continues to live alongside us.
Q. Thank you so much for sharing such thoughtful insights with us today. As we conclude our conversation, is there a final thought or a quiet sincerity you would like to share with those who will encounter your work?
A. I don't expect my work to provide answers.
If anything, I hope it creates a small space for people to slow down and pay attention. We often move very quickly through our lives, trying to explain, solve, or move beyond things before we've really sat with them.
I hope the work offers a pause long enough for something honest to surface. And if someone leaves with a question they can't quite shake, then I think the work has done what it was meant to do.
For me, that's the quiet sincerity of making art: not persuasion, not spectacle, but creating a space where people can spend a little time with something unresolved and perhaps discover something about themselves in the process.
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PufferFish 刺魨 |
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