Somewhere between brilliant playful colours and overt terror lies the now Vancouver-based artist Anwen Liu’s new body of work. She's interested in how those contrasting sides can be used to portray personal narratives. We catch up with Liu to talk about why nightmares can be productive, why it’s important for her to make work that directly involves the viewer/the audience, her natural inclination to build oversize spaces and sculptures, her recent interest in death, and why she’s obsessed with Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared among other talking points.

 

 

Luther Konadu: Did people know to grab a piece of your sculpture?

 

Anwen Liu: I had to stand there the whole time, talk to people and assure them that it was fine to take a bottle of origami stars. I feel like in general people see art as something to not touch even though I had it in my title labelled that they could grab one. However, standing there talking to people made it more interactive and less isolating.

 

 

LK: Can you talk about the coffin you made in the middle of the entire piece which you later broke down into pieces? 

  

AL: Yeah people can’t really tell it’s a coffin because it’s broken down, but I got a sound track of me smashing the coffin which is included as part of the video piece. The whole work relates to my grandfather who was a victim of the Second World War. The Japanese came and captured people in my grandfather’s village and they just started shooting. My great grandparents covered him and his sister under their bodies.

 

My great grandparents were dead while my grandfather was lying under them. When I was little he’d tell me all these stories in a metaphorical way and create all these characters to describe what happen to him and his parents. He’d narrate it as though it was this grim fairytale, I guess as a way for me to understand what happened without being too plagued by what really happen. But as I got older I began to realize the reality of the stories and was deeply affected by it. And I think that’s where I get my aesthetics and sense for making work; it’s always dark and twisted but still beautiful in some ways. I have always become interested in conveying this contrast in my work. I really like this quote; the art is to disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed.

 

 

 

LK: So in a way you are allowing us to acknowledge these stories in a more welcoming way the same way your grandfather presented it to you.

AL: That’s right. As I begun to start with this body of work, I Skyped with my grandma [my grandfather’s wife] a lot to get a really good understanding of what my grandfather went through and get more details. And it resonated with me even more.

 

"...I don’t view the stuff I make as the artwork. It’s just a sculpture. It’s just wood. It’s when people start interacting with the work that it becomes art for me. I like work that is approachable, something the audience can interact with."

 

 

 

LK: I didn’t know about China’s involvement in the war

AL: Oh yeah, during this time a lot of Chinese people did not like the Japanese. They were definitely viewed as monsters. In the media there was a lot of hate towards the Japanese. But my grandfather was very sympathetic toward the everyday people of Japan as they were caught in between and had nothing to do with the war. It was all politics and the government.

 

 

LK: How have you been able to put the work together knowing everything your grandfather went through and not have any kind of bitterness or resentment?

AL: Well my grandfather was a very kind and understanding person. He always mentioned the importance of treating people kindly no matter what but thinking about everything he had gone through and it was a bit of a struggle to negotiate between the two. For the work I just put all the elements there; there’s a demolished coffin; there’s the red yarn; the whole piece is painted black. It’s a bit chaotic and intense but there are also these colourful parts to it too. So I opened it up for interpretation.

  

LK: Do you have any siblings that were also told these stories?

No, one child policy.

 

[Laughs]

 

LK: Ohh right!

 

LK: So you were the only little one having to endure these stories from your grandfather?

AL: Yeah that’s right.

 

LK: What do you think your grandfather’s wife; your grandmother would think of the work?

AL: She doesn’t really know that I’m doing this project. But I was speaking to her about the stories my grandfather told me and she had the same kind of attitude my grandfather had. They know the Japanese are good people it’s just their government at the time what wasn’t.

 

LK: Do you typically approach making work through having an idea or a narrative then going to explore it or do you just go in a try out things and see what happens?

AL: Sometimes I just start with a very simple thing I want to do and then as time goes by, I see what feedback I’m getting and how I feel about it. But the thing about my work is, I don’t view the stuff I make as the artwork. It’s just a sculpture. It’s just wood. It’s when people start interacting with the work that it becomes art for me. I like work that is approachable, something the audience can interact with.

I typically like to build large installations and sculptures. I really like building things. I like constructing with wood and thinking about the cycle of the wood material. It was a tree then it became a piece of wood then it became a piece of sculpture then I break it down again and it will be used for something else. I don’t really feel bad about breaking down my constructions because it’s part of the life cycle.

 

 

LK: Have you always been the type that always building things even when you were little?

AL: Not till I started taking sculpture classes in school. I became really ambitious with what I built. But I did like building things with lego when I was a kid.

 

LK: Do you see yourself building bigger?

AL: Yes, given the space and resources, I see myself working with architects and engineers to build even larger and in a more public realm. Something even more interactive.

 

 

LK: How would the work be different if you made it back in your grandfather’s home town?

AL: I think it would be more self-involved and personal. It wouldn’t be as relational. It will be a lot smaller and more conceptual and more intense because the people there lived through those stories and would be more critical.

 

LK: Who doesn’t want nightmares? That’s what your Instagram says...where did you get that from?

AL: I think through nightmares you can know the good stuff. Without darkness we can’t see the stars shine. I think without the bad things there can’t be good things; they go together.

 

LK: Do you typically have low expectations about things?

AL: I have high expectations for myself but not for the world in general.

 

LK: Is there anything you’ve been generally curious about?

AL: I think maybe it’ll be death. Artist committing suicides, I feel like there are a lot of artists in history who have committed suicide. I got really into Mike Kelly; he also committed suicide.

 

LK: Anything you are currently obsessed about?

AL: I’ve been obsessed with this for a while now. My friend sent me a link to this British video series; Don’t Hug Me, I’m Scared. I’ve read comments that describe it as Sesame Street on drugs. You should search it and let me know what you think. I love it so much. It’s so comforting to watch. [Laughs]