We were lucky to catch up with Alexa Huang recently and have shared our conversation below.
Alexa, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. Let’s kick things off with your mission – what is it and what’s the story behind why it’s your mission?
At the core of my artistic practice is an exploration of impermanence, identity, and the ways in which personal and cultural histories shape perception. Sounds like a cliche, but I do believe spirituality could be conveyed in art. My mission as an artist is to create work that operates in the space between recognition and ambiguity—paintings that do not impose a fixed meaning but instead invites introspection and contemplation. I only crave for a handful pf audience to really resonate with the image. Maybe some would come back and linger for a second read.
This mission is deeply personal. Growing up, I lived apart from my parents in Beijing while they worked in the city, and my early years were shaped by my grandparents’ world—a peasant’s home. Yet it was filled with music, calligraphy, and quiet rituals of making. Those memories became the foundation of my aesthetic sensibilities. I carry those early influences into my current work, where I embrace painting not just as a visual act, but as a process of distillation, of uncovering something deeper beneath the surface.
One pivotal moment in my artistic journey was when I truly recognized the importance of Taihu Shi in my heart—not just as an aesthetic reference but as a profound conceptual anchor. I had kept reference photos of these rocks pinned in my studio for years, even during a time when I was primarily focused on representational figurative work. They were always there, quietly present, yet I hadn’t fully grasped why they resonated with me so deeply.
This year, as my practice evolved, I found myself staring at those same images again—but with new eyes. It was then that I understood: Taihu Shi was not just an inspiration; it was a philosophical and artistic foundation. Their forms, shaped by time and erosion, mirrored the themes I had been exploring all along—fluidity, impermanence, and the tension between intention and chance. At that moment, I made the decision that Taihu Shi would be the anchor of my thesis project.
To quote the famous Chinese literati, Bai Juyi, ‘the stone has no inscriptions, no sound, no smell, and no taste. It is unlike the three common things. Yet, I enjoy it—why is that? Others may find it strange, but I alone understand it.’ The “three common things” Bai refers to are words, sound, and scent. Despite the absence of these sensory pleasures, the value lies in its ability to inspire a deeper, more contemplative state of mind.
I seek to create art that speaks through silence, subtlety, and ambiguity—works that are quiet yet emotionally potent, deeply personal yet universal in their themes. Ultimately, my mission is about bridging traditions—connecting classical Chinese aesthetics and philosophy with contemporary artistic language. It’s about finding harmony in contradictions and allowing art to function as both an intellectual pursuit and a deeply felt experience.
Alexa, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?
My name is Alexa Huang, 黄明妍, a painter and sculptor based in New York City, originally from Beijing, China. My artistic practice exists at the intersection of abstraction and representation, where I explore themes of memory, cultural identity, and impermanence. My work is deeply influenced by traditional Chinese aesthetics, classical music, Daoist philosophy, and Western modernist abstraction. I create gestural, emotionally intuitive paintings that oscillate between form and dissolution, often incorporating elements of the human figure and natural textures.
How I Got Into Art
My journey into the arts has been one of rediscovery and self-exploration. I originally pursued a double major in Economics and Music at Colby College, but my passion for painting led me to study at the Art Students League of New York and the New York Academy of Art. Throughout this journey, I have moved between disciplines and cultural perspectives, shaping my artistic voice through a combination of rigorous training and intuitive experimentation.
A pivotal moment in my practice was my deep engagement with Taihu Shi (太湖石), or Chinese scholar’s rocks. These naturally eroded stones, revered in Chinese culture for centuries, symbolize harmony between nature and human cultivation. I had reference images of Taihu Shi hanging in my studio for years without fully understanding why they resonated with me. It wasn’t until recently—after years of focusing on figurative work—that I found myself drawn to them again, realizing that they encapsulated everything I sought to express in my paintings. This led me to anchor my MFA thesis around the philosophy and aesthetics of Taihu Shi, using it as a metaphor for the fluidity of identity and artistic process.
What Sets My Work Apart
In an era where contemporary art often prioritizes bold, immediate statements, I crave subtlety—work that unfolds over time, revealing layers of meaning through nuance rather than punchy content. Much of today’s art world, especially in America, feels loud, declarative, and instant. My approach is the opposite: I embrace the quiet, the understated, the introspective. Inspired by Daoist philosophy and classical Chinese aesthetics, I create paintings that invite slow engagement and contemplation, where meaning is not imposed but gradually emerges.
My work is also deeply engaged with chance and intuition. Like John Cage’s use of the I Ching in his compositions, I incorporate elements of randomness in my painting process—allowing the materials, textures, and forms to guide me rather than imposing rigid control. This reflects my belief that art, like life, should be a balance between deliberate action and letting go.
What I Am Most Proud Of
I am most proud of my ability to stay true to my artistic vision despite external pressures. My journey has been unconventional, moving between disciplines, cultures, and aesthetic traditions. Yet, I have found a way to synthesize these influences into a practice that feels deeply personal yet universally resonant.
Another thing I take pride in is my ability to bridge the past and present. My work is not just about personal expression—it is about cultural dialogue. By engaging with historical Chinese aesthetics in a contemporary context, I hope to offer a fresh perspective on abstraction, one that is rooted in both tradition and experimentation.
What I Want People to Know About My Work
It is not about instant gratification. My paintings are meant to be experienced over time, where their depth and subtleties unfold gradually.
It exists between worlds. My work balances abstraction and figuration, Eastern and Western influences, control and spontaneity.
It is an invitation to contemplate. Just as Taihu Shi was historically used for meditation and introspection, I want my paintings to create a space for quiet reflection in today’s fast-paced world.
Ultimately, my work is about creating a visual language that speaks to both personal and universal experiences—one that is deeply felt, slowly discovered, and infinitely interpretable.
What do you think is the goal or mission that drives your creative journey?
At the core of my artistic practice is an exploration of impermanence, identity, and the ways in which personal and cultural histories shape perception. Sounds like a cliche, I hear it, but I do believe spirituality could be conveyed in art. My mission as an artist is to create work that operates in the space between recognition and ambiguity—paintings that do not impose a fixed meaning but instead invites introspection and contemplation. I only crave for a handful pf audience to really resonate with the image. Maybe some would come back and linger for a second read.
This mission is deeply personal. Growing up, I lived apart from my parents in Beijing while they worked in the city, and my early years were shaped by my grandparents’ world—a peasant’s home. Yet it was filled with music, calligraphy, and quiet rituals of making. Those memories became the foundation of my aesthetic sensibilities. I carry those early influences into my current work, where I embrace painting not just as a visual act, but as a process of distillation, of uncovering something deeper beneath the surface.
One pivotal moment in my artistic journey was when I truly recognized the importance of Taihu Shi in my heart—not just as an aesthetic reference but as a profound conceptual anchor. I had kept reference photos of these rocks pinned in my studio for years, even during a time when I was primarily focused on representational figurative work. They were always there, quietly present, yet I hadn’t fully grasped why they resonated with me so deeply.
This year, as my practice evolved, I found myself staring at those same images again—but with new eyes. It was then that I understood: Taihu Shi was not just an inspiration; it was a philosophical and artistic foundation. Their forms, shaped by time and erosion, mirrored the themes I had been exploring all along—fluidity, impermanence, and the tension between intention and chance. At that moment, I made the decision that Taihu Shi would be the anchor of my thesis project.
To quote the famous Chinese literati, Bai Juyi, ‘the stone has no inscriptions, no sound, no smell, and no taste. It is unlike the three common things. Yet, I enjoy it—why is that? Others may find it strange, but I alone understand it.’ The “three common things” Bai refers to are words, sound, and scent. Despite the absence of these sensory pleasures, the value lies in its ability to inspire a deeper, more contemplative state of mind.
I seek to create art that speaks through silence, subtlety, and ambiguity—works that are quiet yet emotionally potent, deeply personal yet universal in their themes. Ultimately, my mission is about bridging traditions—connecting classical Chinese aesthetics and philosophy with contemporary artistic language. It’s about finding harmony in contradictions and allowing art to function as both an intellectual pursuit and a deeply felt experience.
What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?
For me, the most rewarding aspect of being an artist is the ability to create moments of resonance—to make work that has the power to freeze time, evoke emotion, and invite introspection. When I stand before a piece of artwork that truly moves me, I am ready to be affected—I want to be held in that moment, immersed in something beyond the mundane rhythms of daily life. I crave that intensity, even if it is expressed through subtlety and quiet energy. As an artist, my greatest fulfillment comes from knowing that my work can offer the same experience to others—that someone might stand before one of my paintings and, for a fleeting moment, feel something unexpected, something that lingers beyond words. Art is not about loud declarations for me; it is about the undercurrents of emotion that reveal themselves slowly, in ways that are deeply personal to each viewer.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.alexahuang.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alexasassybean/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001388447467
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/alexahuang618/
Image Credits
all credited to Alexa Huang.