Liu Chen
Hanoi, Vietnam
Liu Chen is a self‑taught artist whose practice bridges digital and physical realms. After completing an art foundation course at the London College for Design and Fashion in Hanoi, she began studying visual art at Vietnam National University. Her digital triptych was exhibited in Ho Chi Minh City in 2021 and displayed on billboards. Through an international youth organization she received training and opportunities that transformed her relationship to her hypersensitivity, inspiring her to portray everyday struggles in preternaturally beautiful ways that lead viewers toward a positive outlook.
Artist Interview
Q: Can you share the first time an opportunity—like a residency, pop-up, or an exhibition, made you feel like a real artist? What was that moment like for you?
A: The first time I truly felt like an artist wasn’t in a solo project—it was in a collaboration. A French designer reached out to work with me for her graduate thesis on fashion and culture. At first, it was surreal. We were from such different places, but we connected so easily. We’d call each other to talk about raw ideas, scribbled notes, little cultural things—how áo dài wraps around the body, how French fashion carries centuries of symbolism, or how education feels in Vietnam versus in France. We weren’t trying to be “perfect” artists. We just wanted to learn. From each other. With each other. She brought her world, I brought mine. I shared my works and stories—she wove them into her silhouettes, textures, and runway pieces.
My name ended up on the collection stamp. I got interviewed about my art, and it felt like my voice was being heard in a whole new language—fashion. Everything about it was smooth and honest. No ego. Just two young creatives, curious and open, holding space for each other. And somewhere in that process—between the late-night notes and fabric swatches—I looked at what we made and thought: This is real. I’m not just making art. I’m part of something larger. That was the first time I said to myself, Liễu, you’re really an artist.
Q: Can you share a recent project or experience that helped reignite your passion during a creative block? What about it sparked new possibilities for your work?
A: There was a quiet moment during We Laugh Cry Together while layering a printing plate onto voile, which unexpectedly pulled me out of a creative block. I had been sitting with questions about care, repetition, and memory, but I felt like I was circling the same gestures, unsure what came next. What changed things wasn’t dramatic; it was when I found one of my grandmother’s old handkerchiefs folded inside a tin. I remembered her using it to wrap rice balls for me. I ran it through the press with a soft etched tray pattern, and suddenly something opened. The act felt like collaboration with her memory. That piece didn’t feel like an artwork; it felt like a conversation.