We interviewed Chengyu Yao in our publication “Abstracted” surrounding the concept of abstract. Visit the publication here.
How do installation, video and painting help serve your purpose in exploring these themes (traumatic experiences and paranormal experiences)? Do you find that there are certain media better suited to specific aspects of trauma or the paranormal?
I let the theme guide my choice of medium. Installation art is an unavoidable experience that draws the viewer into the space of the work, confronting them with solitude and fear as if entering an emotionally forbidden zone. The weight and physical presence of the space allow trauma to be intensely felt, awakening a sense of vulnerability and helplessness deep within. Video, meanwhile, moves between time and space, using narrative to blur the line between reality and illusion, creating a dreamlike flow that gradually immerses the viewer in a sense of supernatural disorientation. Painting, on the other hand, captures emotion in a single moment, freezing inner experiences that defy words; the stillness of the image becomes a fissure, leading to deeper consciousness. I weave these mediums into a psychological space that transcends reality, guiding viewers to wander between the real and the imagined, touching hidden emotions and awakening profound self-reflection in this journey.
How does your work challenge your audience’s understanding of reality and perception? What are some specific techniques that you use to achieve this?
My work aims to disrupt viewers’ habitual understanding of reality, gradually leading them into unease and self-questioning. The video piece ‘Kong Wang’, created in collaboration with musician Xiaoran Han, embodies this approach. The title, drawn from the I Ching concept of ‘Kong Wang,’ symbolizes emptiness and loss of control—a reflection of the surreal experience I had in a villa, where I felt thrown into an undefined space, caught between reality and illusion.
To convey this sensation, I recreated the villa in Unity, reconstructing a nightmarish scene and turning it into an independent game, documenting it in a mockumentary style. This lets the audience drift between the real and the fictional, as if everything is real and dreamlike. ‘Kong Wang’ is not only an exploration of “the ninth art” but also a journey into another dimension. Through this narrative, I aim to guide viewers to re-examine themselves in the ambiguity, touching on hidden parts of their inner depths.
What is the process behind creating an undercurrent of tension and mystery within your work, and why is it important to communicate your themes?
The tension and mystery in my work stem from the power of “absence”—blank spaces, stillness, and incomplete images, like unsolved riddles that evoke a lingering unease. This unease is not a direct fear but an undercurrent, a strangeness within the familiar. For me, it’s more than a visual presentation; it’s a form of resistance, forcing one to pause and confront emotional fissures deep within. In my process, subtle shifts in light, texture, and sound guide the viewer into an uncertain state of awareness, reaching into subconscious emotions. Symbols and metaphors in the work act like a half-open door, inviting exploration. This tension and mystery open a pathway inward, allowing viewers to touch on neglected fractures within themselves, leaving a subtle trace.
How did you first become interested in abstraction, and what drew you to explore the abstract through non-representational colours and shapes?
My interest in abstraction began at 16 when I watched ‘The Wall’ by Pink Floyd and Alan Parker. That experience was profound—a blend of surreal imagery, fragmented timelines, eerie animation, and hypnotic music seemed to break the boundaries of reality. It showed me that art doesn’t need the constraints of logic or figurative expression. At that moment, I realized that abstraction is not just a style; it’s a force.
For me, abstraction is a way to escape the confines of symbols and language. In a world filled with labels, abstract colours and shapes allow me to return to a raw form of emotional expression. These formless structures are not random; they’re traces of emotion, elusive yet real. I believe that ambiguity and uncertainty can lead viewers to let go of the need for explanation, guiding them into a pure experience. Abstraction is my defiance against logic and certainty. I hope my work becomes a mirror for viewers, inviting them to touch unexplored parts of themselves and find their own truth in the undefined.
How do post-processing techniques in the software, as mentioned in Premiere Pro, add another layer to your abstract work?
Influenced by Japanese director Terayama Shuji, I am captivated by the surreal colour filters in his films—emotional metaphors that break visual conventions, creating a feeling both unsettling and alluring. In post-production, I use colour and light distortions to produce a surreal effect, inviting viewers to drift between reality and illusion, as if “reality” could slip into fantasy at any moment. This approach isn’t merely a visual exploration; it’s a challenge to the concept of “reality”—what we rely on visually may be nothing more than a carefully constructed mirage. Through this illusion, I aim to lead viewers to re-examine what they perceive as real, touching the boundary between the unreal and the tangible, entering an experience that is both intimate and distant.
Where do you see your practice evolving in the future? Do you have any upcoming projects that you would like to discuss?
In the future, my work will continue to delve into marginalized life experiences, seeking a language of expression at the boundary between reality and the subconscious. I hope my work resonates on a hidden level, reaching emotions within viewers that they have yet to explore, allowing them to glimpse vulnerability and strength within themselves.
I am creating an illustrated book titled ‘She’, telling the stories of two women living in East Asia—lives that society has pushed into the shadows, yet they persist. I aim to capture their moments of “melting” under pressure, where emotions and identity quietly reshape amid dissolution. For me, this “melting” is not just breaking; it’s a soft form of resistance. Through the intimate medium of illustration, I hope viewers gradually enter their world, sensing a quiet yet intense state of being. Storytelling here is a low whisper, guiding viewers to look again at those faces often ignored.