We were lucky to catch up with Di Hu recently and have shared our conversation below.

Di, appreciate you joining us today. We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.

One of my recent projects is called Echo Chamber Realms. It’s a large-scale immersive experience that explores the challenges, struggles, and attempts people go through in the process of socialization or navigating social relationships. For this project, I used three large animal puppets combined with AI technology. These puppets engage in real-time, dynamically generated conversations, and visitors entering the space can join in on the discussions at any time. Each puppet has its own distinct psychological motives, which essentially gives them personalities similar to those of different kinds of people. I feel that, through these characters, we can all see a reflection of ourselves.

The entire environment is designed to feel like a tiny world—a miniature city made out of everyday objects. Visitors can explore this large-scale micro city as part of the experience, which adds another layer of interaction and discovery.

The first puppet is Charlie, who comes from an earlier project of mine called Beloved Charlie. He’s a dog who, on one hand, shows deep loyalty and a desire to be humanity’s best friend. But on the other hand, he has this witty, sarcastic wisdom that often calls out the absurdities in human behavior. His sharp tongue might make people feel a little pressured or exposed.

The second puppet is Kaka, a tall, dazzling ostrich. She’s the largest and tallest puppet in the group. Kaka believes that people naturally admire exceptional individuals, so she loves to show off her looks and intelligence. Her appearance is flashy—bling bling, colorful, and deliberately over-the-top, with a patchwork feel. Kaka desperately wants everyone to know how gorgeous and brilliant she is. But, as is often the case in real life, her self-centered nature might make people around her feel like she’s too much, maybe even a little unlikable.

The third puppet is Lucy, a tiny mouse about the size of your hand. Lucy is shy, cautious, and introverted, which makes her feel very real and endearing. She brings a sense of fragility and gentleness to the group dynamic. Many visitors say they really connect with Lucy, probably because her vulnerability and hesitance strike a chord with them. But to me, Lucy is actually more complex than she appears. Her inner world might be far richer than what she lets on.

The interactions between these three characters create a fascinating dynamic that many people have commented on. I love how their personalities play off each other and make the space feel alive.

The conversations are AI-driven. You could call them robots, but they’re also animals, and not exactly human either. What’s funny is that they spend their time discussing how to be better humans! When visitors, as real humans, try to join in the conversation, the puppets respond—they really hear what the visitors are saying. But the puppets are so self-centered in their replies that it becomes clear they’re not actually trying to understand the visitors. This wasn’t something I fully planned—it’s partially a result of the AI’s natural limitations—but I chose to embrace it as part of the work.

Aside from the puppets, another key part of this project is the environment they exist in: a sprawling miniature city that covers the entire space. This city provides rich context for the puppets’ conversations—it’s a representation of a modern, urbanized society. At the same time, it offers visitors a chance to explore. I filled the city with lots of tiny, interesting details, and when people discover them, it creates these little “encounter moments.” It’s like they suddenly feel the presence of the artist, see glimpses of their own life, or find something they can’t wait to share with their friends.

If you’re curious to learn more about this project, you can check it out here: https://hudicreates.com/echo-chamber-realms

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

I’ve always been fascinated by how much we hide in plain sight. The simplest gestures, the smallest objects, often carry the weight of complex identities and social norms. My work is driven by a desire to peel back those layers, to ask: what are we really showing, and what are we keeping hidden?
Across my practice, I explore the intersections of identity, perception, and social systems. Whether through performance, installation, or interactive media, I use humor, participation and technology as tools to invite reflection on the roles we play and how we navigate personal and collective spaces. I’m drawn to materials that feel both familiar and charged with meaning—domestic objects, the human body, found texts—recasting them as sites of inquiry and experimentation.
I explore non-traditional ways of viewing, includes the viewer as a co-creator. By creating spaces where the audience can interact, reflect, or even challenge their assumptions, I aim to foster a dialogue that extends beyond the gallery walls.
My practice is about challenging the narratives we accept as truth, and embracing the complexity of identity in a world that often demands simplicity. Through my work, I hope to offer moments of both disruption and understanding, where the ordinary becomes a site for deeper exploration.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

As an artist with a multidisciplinary background, I strive to create spaces where everyone—whether they’re professional artists, researchers, or non-creatives—can feel welcome and be able to get into the “situation”. I completely understand, though, that many non-creatives (and I was once one myself) might feel confused when faced with contemporary art. My goal is to break down that “barrier of confusion,” making it possible for everyone to experience openness and inclusivity in my art environments.

I want my art to create a safe space that transcends everyday experiences—a place where people can explore their relationships with themselves and with others, stepping out of their habitual, automated thought patterns. By “safe,” I mean an environment that fosters openness, where the act of breaking down barriers becomes part of the experience.

At the same time, my work includes a lot of everyday elements—both in materials and in concept. These are things that resonate on a deeper psychological level, giving people a sense of familiarity. I believe that these familiar elements are crucial for building that sense of safety and for enabling people to undertake meaningful exploration.

I hope audiences can enter my spaces naturally, without feeling pressured, and engage in their own way. Exploration is an inherently equalizing act. Everything from my curation to my spatial design is intended to create a sense of ease, where people feel that whatever they experience is valid and there’s no need to feel alienated or excluded because they “don’t understand.”

Take Echo Chamber Realms as an example. When audiences first step into the space, they’re often puzzled by the miniature city made up of seemingly randomly placed everyday objects. But as they hear the faint conversations of the three puppets deep within the gallery, their initial confusion shifts to curiosity: “Maybe listening to this conversation will help me understand.”

Guided by the pathways through the miniature city, visitors make their way toward the puppet zone. Some become intrigued by the dialogue displayed on the interface. Others continue exploring and discover they can actually participate in the conversation. By this point, most people are diving into the experience, whether it’s interacting with the puppets or playing in the block-like city.

For those who still feel a “crisis of meaning” at this stage, they’ll often glance toward the small seating area near the entrance. There, they’ll find a cozy little lamp-lit table and a booklet. Inside the booklet, there’s a fictional story about a mad scientist who extracted their personality and implanted it into the puppets—a deliberately rough and absurd tale. I wrote it as a tongue-in-cheek “meaning manual” for the most desperate seekers of answers. It says, “Okay, here’s the ‘meaning’ of it all. Now go play!” I don’t care the story actually, This is such a bad written and fake story. When I mean fake it is not only saying
the story is a fiction but more important it is not even a real section of the piece. Again, I don’t care the storyI care people feeling free.

Eventually, everyone begins to engage.

I see groups of visitors interacting in different ways. One person crouches low, searching for tiny secrets hidden in the city, while their companion heads straight to the puppets, surprised by their sudden movements and calling the other over, laughing, “Hey, come check this out—they talk!”

I see an office worker pointing at a small object in the city—a tiny car decoration, a sprout sitting in a thumb-sized pot. With the scale of the miniature city, it looks like a massive tree. She turns to her colleague and says, “I have this exact thing on my car!”

I see a professor standing in front of Kaka, telling a story about socks to a group of students: “Once, I went to this yacht party full of strangers, so I suggested a sock game. Everyone takes off one sock, throws it in a box, and you pick one out to find its pair—and the person wearing it. It’s the perfect icebreaker!”

I see the gallery manager—a man known for scolding staff about lighting placement—looking at the floor where spotlights have been repurposed into a bridge. He points to a small black dog figure on the bridge and exclaims, “Ah, that’s me!”

People who love the miniature city get down on their knees or even lie on the floor to look closer. Some are thrilled to find tiny human figures in the city, and I shine a flashlight to reveal even smaller hidden ones for them.

Those who love the puppets gather around them, laughing at the unexpected replies, engaging in long, playful conversations. I let the puppets entertain them—they can stay there for ages.

And for the ones wandering around the gallery snapping photos, I point out that Charlie’s backside is actually a stool, so you can sit on him like a chair.

What I see is interest flowing through the space, connections being formed. It’s an environment that inspires genuine engagement. It’s a small world where we explore, create links, and find moments of safety, peace, and joy. Together, we work toward openness, vulnerability, flexibility—and strength—for ourselves and each other.

What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?

In today’s world, dominated by money and capitalism, so much of our value is measured by economic success. People are often steered toward chasing financial gain. But as an artist, I believe our value doesn’t lie in economic success. And I’m not saying the clichéd “art is noble and can’t be measured by money.” What I mean is that in the art world, the artistic value of a work often doesn’t correlate with its economic return.

When artists create, it’s nearly impossible to predict whether a piece will generate stable financial returns—unless, of course, the creation is deliberately designed with commercial success in mind. This is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it’s a bad thing because it fractures the art industry and makes it incredibly difficult for many sincere artists to sustain their practice. But on the other hand, it’s also a good thing because it pushes many artists to realize that, in the act of creation, they must focus solely on their unique artistic pursuits. There really is no other way—creating with honesty is the only path forward.

The world today moves at an increasingly fast pace. We are surrounded by endless simulations and stimuli, which often leave us trapped in a sort of “autopilot” mode of living. People prioritize efficiency, but that comes with a cost—it leads to a lot of suffering. Unless we take a step back and really observe what we’re doing, we risk being completely drained, running endlessly in this cycle.

Mental health isn’t just a medical concept. It’s deeply tied to the structure and organization of society. Different stages of societal development and different systems bring about different mental health challenges. While individuals can seek help through medical means, addressing these issues at their root requires thinking and action on a societal level. This is where art can play a crucial role. It has the power to provoke deep reflection on social phenomena and inspire people to think in a broader, more comprehensive way.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://hudicreates.com/
• Instagram: @hudi_la_