Wendy Jia
- 1 day ago
- 4 min read
Wendy Jia is an artist based in Vancouver. She was born in China and studied art and design before continuing her studies in the UK. She works with painting, ink, and mineral pigments on canvas and fabric. Her work involves natural, surface-based techniques developed in the studio.
In our interview, she talks about how she starts a work, how materials affect her decisions, and how she works through a painting from beginning to end.
Q: How has living and working in different countries influenced the way you approach painting?
A: Living between China, England, and Canada has shaped my practice in subtle but lasting ways. My early exposure to traditional handcraft and material culture instilled a sensitivity to surface and tactility, while the vast landscapes and shifting light of Canada influenced my understanding of space and atmosphere.
Rather than depicting specific places, my work reflects the emotional condition of living between cultures, the layering of memory, distance, and belonging. Painting becomes a way to reconcile those experiences without needing to define them explicitly.
Q: When did abstraction start to feel like the right language for your work?
A: Abstraction began to feel right when I realized that what I wanted to express was not a scene, but a sensation.
Early on, I was drawn to representation through photography, but over time I became more interested in what cannot be clearly defined, memory, longing, stillness, internal landscapes. Abstraction allows space for ambiguity. It gives the viewer room to enter with their own experiences. Over time, it became clear that abstraction could hold complexity, emotional and spatial, in a way that felt honest to my experience.
Q: You work with materials like raw canvas, ramie, ink, and mineral pigments. How do materials guide the process for you?
A: Material choice is central to my thinking. Raw canvas and ramie are porous and responsive; they absorb pigment rather than holding it on the surface. Mineral pigments carry a sense of geological time and weight.
Because these materials behave unpredictably, the process becomes collaborative. The painting evolves through interaction, between gesture, gravity, saturation, and pause. I respond to what the surface offers back rather than imposing a fixed outcome.
Q: There’s a sense of stillness in your work. How do you arrive at that pace in the studio?
A: My studio rhythm is intentionally slow, usually starting with morning meditation. Once I begin work, I move between action and observation. I allow layers to dry and settle, sometimes leaving a painting untouched for days. That distance matters; when I return, I see with a new perspective and make subtle adjustments, softening an edge, deepening a tone, allowing space to breathe. The quietness in the work comes from that patience, from resisting urgency and trusting the painting to unfold in its own time.
Q: How much planning do you bring into a painting before you begin?
A: I usually begin with a sense of atmosphere, a tonal range, or an emotional direction, but I avoid fixed compositions. Structure emerges gradually through layering and careful observation, as I respond to what the painting itself suggests.
Keeping the process open allows for discovery, each work unfolds over time rather than following a predetermined plan.
Q: Photography is part of your background. How does it still affect how you think about images?
A: Photography trained me to observe carefully, to notice light, framing, and the importance of negative space. That awareness remains present in my paintings.
Even in abstraction, I think about balance and spatial rhythm. However, painting allows me to move beyond the captured moment. It gives me the freedom to construct a more fluid and layered sense of time.
Q: How much do you allow the process to remain visible in the finished work?
A: I intentionally preserve traces of the process, areas where pigment has pooled, faded, or layered. These marks reflect the duration and evolution of the work.
Rather than concealing revisions, I allow them to remain visible. They create a sense of honesty and remind the viewer that the painting developed through uncertainty and response.
Q: What does working on untreated or lightly prepared surfaces change for you?
A: Untreated surfaces absorb pigment directly into the fiber, making each gesture more permanent. This creates a heightened sense of awareness.
Because changes are difficult to reverse, I approach each mark with both intention and trust. The surface becomes an active participant, recording each action as part of its history.
Q: When does a painting feel complete to you?
A: A painting feels complete when it no longer asks for anything.
There is a moment when additional marks would not deepen the conversation but disturb it. I often test this by living with the work for a few days. If it remains quiet yet resolved, I know it has arrived.
Completion, for me, is a sense of balance rather than fullness.
Q: What are you curious to focus on next in your work?
A: I’m increasingly drawn to reduction, creating more open space within a composition and exploring how restraint can intensify presence. At the same time, I’m interested in expanding my use of textiles, traditional papers, and nature-based materials, deepening the dialogue between surface, memory, and time. My ongoing curiosity is how abstraction can hold subtle, shifting emotional states without ever fixing them, allowing the work to remain open and alive.