We were lucky to catch up with Ziyan Bai recently and have shared our conversation below.

Ziyan, appreciate you joining us today. We’d love to hear the backstory behind a risk you’ve taken – whether big or small, walk us through what it was like and how it ultimately turned out.

Leaving my nursing career to pursue art felt like jumping into the unknown without a parachute. I had spent years training to become a nurse in Beijing, My life was “secure.” But deep down, I felt like I was watching my life unfold from outside my own body. I was caring for others, but forgetting how to care for myself.

The decision to walk away from nursing wasn’t immediate or clean. It meant disappointing expectations, letting go of stability, and starting over in a completely different country, culture, and language. But it also meant reclaiming my agency, my voice, and my time.

Now I’m an illustrator, makeup artist, and interdisciplinary artist studying in New York. My past in medicine still shapes me. The risk didn’t give me certainty, but it gave me a life that feels like mine. And that’s more than enough.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

Hi! I’m Ziyan Bai—an artist, illustrator, and makeup artist currently based in New York, with a background in nursing. My journey into the creative field wasn’t linear. I was originally trained as a nurse in Beijing, but eventually chose to pivot toward art when I realized I wanted to explore healing, identity, and care in a more visual, emotional language.

I now work across several disciplines—illustration, oil painting, printmaking, experimental makeup, and wearable objects. Whether I’m painting on canvas or on skin, I think of each surface as a place where stories about the body, memory, transformation, and contradiction can unfold.

My work ranges from personal projects to client commissions—including editorial illustration, character & concept design, visual storytelling, and creative makeup direction for shoots. Clients come to me when they want something emotionally honest, slightly strange, and visually rich. I love working with people who aren’t afraid of softness, surrealism, or nuance.

What sets my work apart is that it doesn’t chase perfection—it leans into sensitivity. I bring a unique perspective from my nursing background, which taught me to observe deeply, hold space for complexity, and understand people beyond first impressions.

What I’m most proud of is being able to blend different parts of myself into one practice. My art is my language, my release, and my way of connecting with others who may also be navigating multiple identities or non-traditional paths.

If you’re looking for visual work that’s emotionally textured and rooted in care—whether that’s for a zine, a beauty campaign, or something unclassifiable—I’d love to hear from you.

We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?

I used to believe that being valuable meant being efficient. In nursing school and the hospital, everything was about precision, speed, and putting your own needs second. That mindset stayed with me even after I left medicine and started studying art.

At first, I pushed myself the same way—expecting clean results, fast progress, and constant output. But art doesn’t work like that. It’s slow, messy, emotional. I had to unlearn the idea that rest equals weakness, or that doubt means failure.

Now, I see slowness as a form of care. I make better work when I allow space—for curiosity, for mistakes, for simply feeling things deeply. Unlearning that hustle mindset didn’t make me less driven. It made me more human.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative?

People often assume being a creative is romantic—like I just wake up inspired and start painting. But what they don’t see is the loneliness, the emotional labor, the constant negotiation between survival and expression.

It’s not just making pretty things. It’s pulling from memory, questioning identity, translating feeling into form. Some days you feel hollow. Some days you feel too full.

What I hope people understand is that creative work isn’t extra. It’s work. Internal, necessary, and deeply human.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://ziyanbaiart.cargo.site/
• Instagram: @ziyanbai_art