We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Susan Chen. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Susan below.

Alright, Susan thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. One of our favorite things to hear about is stories around the nicest thing someone has done for someone else – what’s the nicest thing someone has ever done for you?

From 2015 until 2023, I moved art studios every single year.
During my first job out of college, while working as a project manager at an advertising agency, I had the tiniest 150 sq. ft. studio near Canal Street in NYC (2015). The following year, I moved to the Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts in a studio share (2016). Then, I went to art school and relocated to an art studio in Chicago for a one-year program (2017), before moving back to NYC for my MFA, where I had a different studio each year (2018 and 2019).
When the pandemic hit, I moved studios again—this time to a garage in our family’s home in Connecticut (2020). After that, I got into a residency program at Silver Art Projects at the World Trade Center (2021). In December 2022, I moved to my current studio in Long Island City. I recently won the 2025 Creative Capital Grant, which allows me to stay in my studio until 2026—I can’t tell you how relieved I am to finally stay in the same space for multiple years and sign a longer lease for the first time.

What does this have to do with kindness? Behind all those years of back-to-back studio moves, my partner has helped me move every single time—carrying boxes of studio supplies, lugging giant canvases, driving U-Haul trucks, moving vans, packing… you name it. He has always been there to help me move art studios.

There was one time when he was moving one of my painting storage tables and actually hurt himself pretty badly, straining his shoulder. Ever since then, I decided to hire movers because I felt so awful. Being an artist is such an unpredictable lifestyle, and I often question its sustainability—especially as we get older (not that we’re old!). The partner of an artist does so much to make this life possible. Marthe made it possible for Bonnard; Lee Krasner made it possible for Pollock; Ada makes it possible for Alex Katz; Jean-Pierre Gonçalves de Lima makes it possible for Hockney.

I’m not a famous artist, but whenever I go to art openings and meet an artist’s spouse, I always give them a big hug. I think it takes incredible patience to be an artist’s other half. My fiancé’s support for my studio life and work has been the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me—and it’s an ongoing kindness that requires so much patience and generosity. My work can feel so selfish at times, always having to be in the spotlight to survive as an artist, and I am endlessly grateful for the kindness of my other half, who makes this studio life possible.

Susan, 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?

For folks who may not have read about you before, can you please tell our readers about yourself?

My name is Susan Chen, and I am an artist and oil painter based in New York City. In recent years, my work has focused on community portraiture. I earned my MFA from Columbia University in 2020, and since then, I’ve been fortunate to collaborate with over a hundred individuals from diverse backgrounds. I’ve always been curious about my sitters’ experience, and this has led my paintings to explore themes of race, community, immigration, identity, family, love, loss, and prejudice.

I’ve been honored to receive several awards, including the 2025 Creative Capital Grant, 2022 Forbes Under 30 North America Honoree, 2022 Artsy Vanguard Artist, and the 2020 Hopper Prize. My first solo exhibitions were at Meredith Rosen Gallery (2020) and Night Gallery (2021). Most recently, I presented solo shows at Rachel Uffner Gallery featuring a collection of Purell bottles (2023) and large-scale oil paintings and ceramics exploring women’s advocacy following changes to Roe v. Wade (2024).

Currently, my painting Chinatown Block Watch (2022) is on view in the American Wing of the Brooklyn Museum as part of its 200th Anniversary Exhibition, Toward Joy: New Frameworks for American Art.

How did you get into your industry and craft?

My first job after college was as a project manager at an advertising agency. One day, some colleagues discovered I had a painting website and said, “Wow, you’re an artist; you really shouldn’t be here.” I remember finding myself daydreaming about being in the studio almost every day while I was at work, and it became an itch I couldn’t scratch. After a year in the office, I got into a six-week residency program and asked my boss if I could take a leave for it. They were surprisingly very supportive. “As long as you return afterwards,” my boss chuckled.
Of course, I never returned to the office after that.

After the residency, I was serendipitously connected to Shara Hughes through a former college professor. She needed help in the studio, and I was lucky to briefly work as her studio assistant. Watching her make a living from her work in her Brooklyn studio was incredibly inspiring. I also got to see her paint, but also some of the challenges she faced—late gallery payments, dealing with galleries closing, sourcing materials. All of it made me think I could pursue art as a career. So I applied to art school (for my graduate studies). Art school was the happiest time of my life. I spent a year at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago in a one-year program and then completed my MFA at Columbia University in NYC. Somehow, I got my first group shows and solo show through Instagram! Dealers would slide into my DMs, and one show led to another. It’s been a wild ride—five years of exhibiting have flown by, and I’m grateful every day to be able to pursue creativity as my job.

What type of products/services/creative works do you provide?

I am primarily a painter, but I also enjoy working with other mediums like drawing, gouache, ceramics, pastels, and more. I love exploring different ways to express ideas through various materials.

What problems do you solve for your clients, and what sets you apart from others?

I’m not sure I’m particularly special in the grand scheme of the many talented artists out there, but I am proud of the skill I’ve developed to paint anyone in just three hours, almost seamlessly. I’ve also become deeply interested in impasto oil painting in recent years, which is a risky way of painting due to the material nature, material costs, health, and archival challenges. All artists are passionate, but I particularly believe in pursuing intention.

What are you most proud of, and what should potential clients/followers/fans know about you and your work?

I am most proud of the work getting a little better and better each year. That can only happen by continuing to make more paintings (It’s like kung fu, we’re on the road to mastery, but we have to train every day). I can’t wait to see what my work will look like in ten years, and I really hope I’ll still be painting by then!
As for what I want potential collectors, followers, and fans to know about me: I take this work very seriously. I’m constantly thinking about the studio—whether I’m in the shower, on the subway, when I wake up to when I go to sleep. I kind of dislike that I’m contributing to American hustle culture and capitalism here, and that’s not what I’m really trying to say here, but really, I try pretty hard haha… It’s kind of a dorky thing to confess out loud :’) But tbh, I’m pretty dorky in real life.

What do you think is the goal or mission that drives your creative journey?

Diego Velázquez painted Las Meninas in 1656 when he was 57 years old. The painting’s dimensions are 125.2 inches × 108.7 inches.

I would LOVE to create a painting that large in my lifetime. You’d think I could make it in the next few years, but the reality of working at that scale comes with ambitious logistics. First, you need a studio with doors big enough to fit the piece through—which means you need a studio large enough to make the work in the first place, which in turn means you need to be able to afford that studio. Then there’s the cost—just the linen canvas and painting supplies would run into the thousands. Beyond that, you have to be comfortable painting on a canvas that expensive without feeling like you’re painting on a stack of cash. And finally, you need a collector or institution willing to acquire a work of that size; otherwise, you’re stuck figuring out how to store it afterward, which is another major expense.

So, this painting has to be made at the right time, in the right place, when you feel confident enough to make it happen. But I’m psyched by the possibility of getting there in my lifetime. But it’s really no big deal, right? People climb Mount Everest all the time—haha.

I kind of believe you only need to leave ONE truly great painting on this earth before your exit. Not many—just one—but it has to be one you feel really really good and magnificent about!

Also, it’d be fun to own an electric easel that moves up and down one day. But, like a Tempur-Pedic bed, you have to earn it. :)

How can we best help foster a strong, supportive environment for artists and creatives?

I think artists are quite undervalued these days, if I may say so myself. Back in the Renaissance, artists were held in the same regard as scientists, doctors, and scholars—take Da Vinci, for example, who explored everything from painting to engineering. I realize times have changed. There are more global crises, like climate change, and minimalist aesthetics are now preferred for their practicality and contemporary appeal. Maybe that’s part of why artists have been deprioritized in their essential role in society.

But I still believe artists are vital. For many of us, being an artist is second nature—we create because we have to. Artists push people to think outside the box and bring beauty into the world. Without that, we’d all be deadheads.

Another issue I’ve been thinking about is the lack of health insurance options for artists. Our system is designed so that corporate employees and those working for large companies have access to better healthcare, while artists—who are often self-employed freelancers—are left with limited choices. It’s either Medicaid, expensive private insurance, or being on a spouse’s plan if they work for a company. That makes it incredibly difficult to thrive as an artist when even basic healthcare feels out of reach.

For a while, I wondered if galleries could provide health insurance for artists, but the nature of the art market makes that nearly impossible. Collector trends fluctuate, and most galleries can’t afford to offer benefits even if they wanted to. Maybe the government could create a special health insurance program for artists—but that seems unlikely, given how much they’ve cut back on National Endowment for the Arts funding over the years.

Another challenge is that the art world can often feel inaccessible, with its high prices and opaque knowledge culture. Many people find it easier to just buy an IKEA print for their walls rather than engage with original art. But it’s a tricky issue because the cost of keeping a gallery afloat and covering artists’ studio expenses is all built into the price of a painting, that honestly feels realistic.

For now, the best way to support a thriving creative ecosystem is by buying artists’ work. Artists need capital to create. I’m really not into the myth of the starving artist—it’s a romanticized narrative that does more harm than good. I’m making art, and I don’t want to feel like I have to constantly beg collectors for their patronage as if we’re part of a charity case. The work is serious, and society should recognize that artists’ contributions are just as vital to the human experience as any other profession.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.susanmbchen.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/susanmbchen/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/susanmbchen

Image Credits

Photo Credit: Winnie Au