HypeArt Visits: Ji Zou Paints a Portal Between the Digital and Divine

Gazing upon a Ji Zou painting feels eerily reminiscent of encountering a ghostly presence. Layers of ancestral essence and personal connection unravel as if they were forgotten memories, gradually revealing fresh interpretations. The end result is an image that continually transforms – subtly, profoundly, much like the chilling depth of any great ghost story, striking straight to the core.

Growing up among the Hmong ghost stories of my childhood, I’ve come to find a unique comfort in the monstrous. In my culture, we don’t have fairy tales, so these creatures have become a source of familiarity and ease for me. It’s an inheritance that permeates my surroundings, from the silky traditional costumes that drape over furniture to the paintings adorned with silver shamanic symbols and the talismans that protect the lattice fences on my studio walk in Ridgewood.

Raised amidst the expanse of suburban Michigan, Zou found themselves drawn to the internet from an early age, captivated by its intangible sense of freedom. “It resonated with how I lived – not confined within a physical form, but one that could be manifested in a digital realm.” This mode of existence still plays a significant role in shaping their approach, methods, and the instinctive force behind it all.

A while back, Zou decided to relocate to New York City with the aim of dedicating themselves entirely to art. Within a short period, they garnered attention for their unique digital illustrations, characterized by vibrant neon-noir color schemes, dreamy gradients, and subtle psychosexual themes. In pursuit of more depth, they pursued an advanced Illustration degree, thereby acquiring expertise in traditional art mediums as well.

In my gaming world, I’m diving deep into the artist’s latest creation, where texture takes center stage and tactility becomes reality: translucent organza mimics a digital moiré pattern, while cat eye pigment powder shines like a gentle screen glare. This new phase is guided by the same cybernetic essence, but it dons a rougher, more fractured appearance. For our latest installment of HypeArt Visits, I stepped into Zou’s studio to chat about conquering fears, this fresh creative path, and the spiritual energies that fuel their journey.

As I delve deeper into this type of task, I find it becomes increasingly abstract. Everything I interact with – from my own hands to the materials I’m working with – seems to have transformed in a unique way.

Is there a dreamy, intimate atmosphere running throughout your artwork that seems psychologically inspired and reminiscent of a bedroom setting? Could it be that your personal experiences influence the subjects you delve into within your art pieces?

As a creative soul, much of my artistic expression is deeply rooted in my inner world. This realm, at times surreal, feels intimately linked to my suburban upbringing. There was a certain monotony about the surroundings, leaving me with ample time for reflection and virtual exploration. The digital universe, with its infinite possibilities, became a canvas for my imagination. I spent countless hours envisioning these online worlds, projecting myself as a character within them.

When did you realize you wanted to move to New York to pursue art?

It took a long time for me to become an artist, about a decade in total. As a child growing up in Canton, Michigan, I never thought becoming an artist was achievable. However, despite not selling much work during my younger years when I participated in some local exhibitions, I’ve always harbored that dream.

Instead of moving to New York with one of my closest friends, I relocated there, assisting him on photo shoots. However, this work didn’t seem entirely in line with my creative inclinations. To fill that void, I began creating illustrations for editorials and businesses, which appealed to me greatly because it allowed me to explore a style of visual art that resonated deeply with who I am.

Since I lacked much control over the narrative, I started producing my own digital pieces instead. During the pandemic, I shared these works, and I received an overwhelmingly positive response, which was truly uplifting. This inspired me to venture into painting, and when I attended grad school at RISD, my understanding of the physical realm deepened significantly due to the ample studio space available there.

How would you describe the transition from a digital to physical workflow?

To put it simply, the event took me by surprise rather gradually. Initially, I had an apprehension towards creating physical artworks due to their permanence. Even though you can paint over something, there’s always a lingering texture beneath, which reduces control. However, one day I made up my mind and went ahead with it anyway.

As a gamer, I’ve noticed a significant shift in my creative journey. In my past projects, visuals took center stage, but lately, my latest work seems to engage in a more straightforward dialogue with the canvas itself. The longer I delve into this style, the more abstract and conceptual it becomes. My connection with the tools I use – my hands, the materials – feels profoundly altered now.

Every time I sense fear arising within me, I make an effort to delve deeper into the feeling. This process takes me to an uncomfortable place, but it fosters my personal growth.

The ethereal charm inherent in your artwork serves as its foundation. Gradually, details reveal themselves, and with prolonged observation, each painting seems to transform into a fresh masterpiece. Can you share what draws you to this particular artistic approach?

I find the concept of fear, particularly when it comes to the supernatural, incredibly intriguing. Despite its illogical nature, it’s something we all encounter frequently. When I experience fear, I make an effort to embrace that feeling and delve deeper into it. This takes me out of my comfort zone and fosters personal growth.

Your work likewise delves into the chilling dimensions of human nature, moments that at times can prove more terrifying than encounters with spirits.

Absolutely! One of my friends recently attended a course at RISD on the concept of hauntology, which I’ve been encountering more frequently. I’m eager to incorporate this idea into my own projects. In essence, hauntology suggests that the past continues to influence the present, making it particularly relevant to topics like colonialism and honoring oppressed communities. Many artists are engaged with hauntology, although often unknowingly.

When you’re approaching a new piece, what does hat process look like from start to finish?

At the moment, I’m adjusting my approach significantly depending on the textures I aim to create. For this specific artwork, I’m employing inkjet transfer to overlay my digital artworks onto a canvas, adding multiple layers of paper before peeling them off. Conversely, for another piece, I’ll apply several coats of paint, focusing mainly on abstract shapes, and let the painting gradually emerge. Ultimately, the completion of a painting is intuitive; I simply know when it’s finished.

Throughout my life, I’ve maintained a strong bond with the spiritual realm. My curiosity has consistently drawn me towards the hidden dimensions and powers that pervade our existence.

In your statement, you pointed out that elements of your artistry stem from the Hmong shamanic traditions. Could you explain how you weave those contemplative or mystical encounters into your creative process?

In truth, it’s challenging to assert that I consistently engage in these practices regularly, but maintaining a link with the spiritual realm is an unwavering aspect of my existence. My curiosity has always been deeply piqued by the hidden realms and mystical energies that pervade our surroundings.

During my undergraduate studies, I placed a high value on facts backed by science. However, when I enrolled in a course about meditation and the meaning of existence, it significantly shifted my viewpoint.

Afterward, I attended a two-week meditation sojourn where I encountered some enigmatic occurrences. It seemed as though I could foresee events before they transpired, or sense others’ emotions without them expressing it explicitly. Now, I no longer find myself in that state, but my artwork serves as a means to rekindle those connections.

Are many of your works based on personal experiences and frequently centered around female characters? Could we consider them various representations or aspects of yourself?

Indeed, while I do continue to appreciate the art form of self-portraits, my enthusiasm for creating them has waned slightly over time. Despite this decrease in passion, I still enjoy the introspective nature of self-portraiture and find it a valuable tool for expression. However, I’ve noticed that the subject matter can become repetitive after prolonged engagement with the genre.

What are you working on now?

For my upcoming one-man exhibition, I’m developing a collection that showcases increased dimensionality and a deeper examination of texture. The artwork will feature subjects that seem to emerge or dissolve within their surroundings more fluidly, using transparency as a key element. Additionally, I’m experimenting with the fusion or attachment of diverse materials onto the canvas for added depth and visual interest.

Do the posters on your wall mainly reflect aspects of your job or serve as reminders of your personal approach and methods while working?

I’m someone who tends to worry excessively, which isn’t ideal because it often leads me to focus on the negative rather than the positive. At times when I’m feeling fearful or anxious, I place affirmations on my wall as reminders. These affirmations serve to disrupt my negative thought pattern and help me shift my perspective.

Do you prefer working alone or with friends?

In some situations, working independently can be challenging, and that’s one reason why I find affirmations helpful. You might find yourself in profoundly difficult patches with your work, only to experience a sudden breakthrough shortly after. However, when my studio partner is present, such intense periods are less frequent, which is beneficial. Yet, it could be tough to reach the point where remarkable things occur when working alone, so I appreciate both situations.

I’ve gotta push through and deal with it. It’s a great way to let go of stress and improve your self-understanding.

How do you handle hitting a creative block?

Many folks advise taking a stroll or stepping away from the studio, yet this approach doesn’t resonate with me. Instead, I’ll be holed up here, shedding tears and hoping for a change, though I must push through. It’s incredibly therapeutic and helps solidify my bond with myself.

Do you have any go-to books, movies or music for inspiration?

I’m quite fond of many eerie tunes, including hyperpop, and Grimes provides some enjoyable listening experiences. In the realm of cinema, Robert Altman has crafted numerous outstanding films. Among them, my favorite is “Images,” a movie about a children’s book illustrator grappling with schizophrenia. It’s quite captivating; I’ve watched it approximately 20 times. I aspire to create paintings that evoke the same sense of intensity as this film does.

Photography by Keith Estiler.

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