112. JIAQI LIAO: A SPACE BETWEEN BODY AND CLAY.
The artist contemplates a personal process of expression…
Jiaqi Liao, ‘Scratching’, Foam clay, Mannequin. March 2024. Image courtesy of the artist.
‘I was obsessed with playing with clay impulsively long before I committed to it as a material. I knew I had a connection when I first touched it. Over time, it became a foreboding presence. Years later, when I studied this obsession more deeply, I began to understand how it intertwined with my exploration of the subconscious and unconscious. The material is incredibly honest.’ J.L.
1. The first time I saw your work, I think was a sculpture which involved feathers - there was a sense of dormancy, and also I was interested in the feeling of life and death - a particular feeling of physically being close to an object which felt incredibly exotic - physically exotic…
I appreciate the words you chose to describe the feeling, which genuinely resonate with my reflection. The feather sculpture, titled Eyes Closed, Wind Roaring Through the Body, reflects on the perspective of time being suspended: the sound in stillness, the tension within the softest state, the violence of the deepest openness in the heart... Yes, and the life and death. I think of the sky burial ceremony on the plateau of Tibet when I was creating the work. How does a state of life transition into another form of being, one with an enormous capacity for compassion?
On a more micro level, our thoughts, conscious ideas, and unconscious gestures go through life and death every minute and second. The purpose of making the sculpture was also an automatic gesture to suspend and materialise those fleeting sensual moments in the body. Fashion is about the body. But the body is not only about the exterior—what about the internal?
As we become secure enough to step into the unfamiliarity of the unconscious, we may reach those existences that dwell in our bodies but that we've never seen. Like an old man sitting there whom you've never met in real life, but he smiles at you and says, “I have waited for you for so long.”
Thank you for the words physically exotic. The sculpture explores unfamiliar mental territory.
2. The series of images in which liquids seem to be whipped to a state where they become near solid are fascinating…
Moist clay has such an intimate interaction with skin; it captures shapes and movements. How wonderful! And we can almost sense the memory of those moments just by seeing how the clay casts them. It is an accurate imprint of the fingers’ touch. The material becomes our teacher — we learn so much of the unknown from it. When I’m touching clay, I’m learning my own movements and gestures.
3. Your use of materials feels very connected to metaphor - is this intentional?
The body is very honest. I was obsessed with playing with clay impulsively long before I committed to it as a material. I knew I had a connection when I first touched it. Over time, it became a foreboding presence. Years later, when I studied this obsession more deeply, I began to understand how it intertwined with my exploration of the subconscious and unconscious. The material is incredibly honest.
So, I’d say it’s intentional — and also not. I didn’t deliberately seek a metaphor, but certain connections began to emerge naturally. The softness of feathers, the vulnerability of our subconscious, the rawness of clay, and the intimacy of leather… perhaps there are many more hidden connections in the things that move us.
4. The works using mannequins and the human body are very intriguing…
Mannequins have a special intimacy with every dressmaker—they are the canvas of a body. Glorious moments begin from them. I want to keep my sculpting gestures engaged with this preliminary state. The clumsiness and rawness of clay create a fascinating contrast on a polished mannequin. I set aside wearability for a while, allowing fleeting sensual experiences to happen on the exterior of the body.
On real flesh, it evokes even more conversation. Moist clay allows hands to leave fingerprints on the skin. The shape and texture of human skin shift—but that’s the natural cycle of the flesh. The narrative of clay exaggerates this for us to see. And again, it is the clay teaching us — reminding us of sensations we’ve begun to ignore.
5. What are your signals for change?
To feel is to change. Every moment that tickles is a signal for change. And so is everything that no longer does.
LEFT: Jiaqi Liao, ‘The Air Is Roaring’, terracotta clay, paper. July 2024. RIGHT: Anselm Kiefer, ‘Untitled’, 1974, Mixed Media on Paper. Courtesy of The Hall Collection. M-A (A SPACE BETWEEN) issue 4: Signals, published June 2025. Still life image: Harry Nathan.
Jiaqi Liao is a contributing artist to Issue 4 of M-A (A SPACE BETWEEN), available from maaspacebetween.com along with 18 stockists including The Serpentine bookshop, Magculture Jeu de Paume, Magalleria and Dover Street Market.