Bingyu Zhou
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Sep 26
- 4 min read
Bingyu Zhou is a Boston-based illustrator and data scientist whose work connects analytical thinking with imaginative storytelling. Originally from Suzhou, China, she draws on Eastern traditions while reworking them through sci-fi and futuristic aesthetics. Her digital works like “Butchering,” “The Wind Remembers,” and “Wave To Save” turn statistics, memory, and environmental concerns into layered visual narratives. Working across hand-drawn and digital formats, Zhou treats each piece as a meeting point of logic and imagination, inviting viewers to connect with ideas that move between the scientific and the personal.
Q: You move between data science and illustration. How do these two worlds actually feed each other in your day-to-day work?
A: For me, data science and illustration are two lenses on the same world—one logical, one imaginative. Both seek patterns, simplify complexity, and tell stories that resonate.
In data science, I uncover hidden structures—trends, correlations, dynamics—and translate them into insights people can act on. Illustration lets me reimagine those structures visually and emotionally, turning abstract ideas into something tangible and human. Analytics sharpens my art, teaching me balance, layering, and clarity. Art, in turn, brings narrative, symbolism, and empathy into my science. Data alone can feel cold; storytelling gives it warmth.
Q: In "Butchering" you turned statistics about romance scams into images. What made you want to translate numbers into something emotional?
A: When I read that romance scams stole $1.14 billion in 2023, the number itself was staggering—but it left so much unsaid.
As a data scientist, I often face this question: here is the number—but what does it mean? What story does it hold? Numbers can measure loss, but they can’t capture loneliness, betrayal, or grief.
"Butchering" grew from that space between data and human experience. I wanted to split open the statistics and let the hidden stories spill out. Through layered, symbolic visuals, I tried to make people feel what the data can’t say—the tenderness of trust, the brutality of betrayal, the way a single scam can carve into someone’s life.
Q: "The Wind Remembers" ties memory and home to something as light as kites. How did you arrive at that image?
A: The image of the kite in "The Wind Remembers" comes from traditional Chinese poetry, where the kite often carries the weight of homesickness. There is a verse that says, “A kite soars high, yet its string remains tied to the ground—just as a traveler dwells in a faraway land, yet his heart is bound to home.” As someone who has studied and worked abroad, I feel this metaphor very deeply: the kite is something light, drifting, almost free, yet always tethered by an invisible thread. Through my work, I hope others can sense that connection—the way memory, like a kite, floats fragile and elusive, yet never loses its tie to where we come from.
Q: In "Wave To Save" a whale becomes both majestic and threatened. What role do you see art playing in conversations about the environment?
A: Art certainly serves to make environmental issues emotionally resonant. "Wave To Save" was actually sparked by a statistic that 1.25 million tons of wastewater will be discharged into the ocean over decades. Yet the story behind the data itself is not straightforward: some models downplay the impact, while others warn of unknown long-term effects.
My focus, then, wasn’t simply on environmental messaging, but on using illustration to reflect the scientific debate and provoke thought. For me, art becomes a way to make abstract ideas tangible—to give shape to feelings and stories that numbers or words alone cannot capture. In that sense, the piece joins broader conversations not by preaching, but by creating a space for reflection, complexity, and emotional connection.
Q: Your work often mixes Eastern traditions with sci-fi aesthetics. What do you enjoy most about building that cross-cultural space?
A: What I enjoy most about blending Eastern traditions with sci-fi aesthetics is exploring the shared space between worlds—the familiar and the speculative, the historical and the futuristic. In Eastern traditions, imagination often grows from myth, hope, and the rhythms of human life, while sci-fi imagines possibilities rooted in science and technology.
Bringing them together allows me to see how different visions of the world can converse. Both offer freedom, but it comes from distinct places—one from aspiration and cultural memory, the other from experimentation and inquiry. In this cross-cultural space, stories and forms meet, symbolism and speculation coexist, and imagination feels both grounded in human experience and open to infinite possibility.
Q: You talk about art as a meeting point of logic and imagination. Where do you feel that tension most when you’re creating?
A: The tension comes when I’m translating something precise into something felt. But logic and imagination aren’t at odds—they are partners. I feel it most when I’m giving shape to the invisible: a new scientific concept, a subtle trend, or an emotional undercurrent hidden in the data.
I want my work to capture the essence, while remaining grounded and intelligible. It’s where patterns begin to dance, numbers start to hum, and abstract ideas take on a human pulse. Let logic explain and imagination ignite, so the story finds its voice.
