In this conversation with Saki, Green Grammar explores the underlying impulses and conceptual threads that shape her work, tracing the interplay between found objects, metal, and wood across her installations and early experiments. At the same time, we step closer to her everyday life in London, approaching her practice from a more intimate perspective—through her notebooks, her collection of images and objects, and the sudden flashes of inspiration that guide her creative process.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
saki (b. 2000) is a multidisciplinary artist whose practice explores the thresholds between fragility and transcendence. Working primarily through installation and performance, she utilises a range of materials such as rubber, hair, metal, and found relics with histories to evoke spaces of suspension, explore the contradictions and complexities of human experience. Through sculptural installations with the use of familiar objects and symbolic gestures, her works create a sense of unease in ritualistic encounters and challenge viewers’ perception. Her work frequently explores themes of vulnerability, power, and the duality of symbols (beauty and horror, vulnerability and brutality), examining the complex interplay and tension between these elements.
saki (b. 2000) is a multidisciplinary artist whose practice explores the thresholds between fragility and transcendence. Working primarily through installation and performance, she utilises a range of materials such as rubber, hair, metal, and found relics with histories to evoke spaces of suspension, explore the contradictions and complexities of human experience. Through sculptural installations with the use of familiar objects and symbolic gestures, her works create a sense of unease in ritualistic encounters and challenge viewers’ perception. Her work frequently explores themes of vulnerability, power, and the duality of symbols (beauty and horror, vulnerability and brutality), examining the complex interplay and tension between these elements.
How did you begin your artistic practice? Was there a particular moment or experience that set you on this path?
I have loved art and beautiful things since childhood. However, because my father is an artist, I grew up believing that I did not have enough talent to follow the same path. I never seriously considered becoming an artist myself—I thought appreciating art as a lifelong interest would be enough.
Later, when I was studying mathematics and statistics as an undergraduate, I felt deeply unhappy. For a period of time, I struggled to find meaning in my life. It was during that time that I began to turn to artistic creation as a way to untangle my inner conflicts.
My first work was closely connected to my father’s influence. As he is a traditional Chinese calligraphy and ink painting artist, I created a video piece in which I wrote characters with ink directly onto the human body. The words were inspired by my father’s teachings and educational philosophy. Through this performative act, I confronted and deconstructed the subtle power he had held over me since childhood. Symbolically, the balance shifted—from his power over me to my power over that influence. That moment marked the true beginning of my artistic practice.
What materials do you like to use in your work?
I transitioned into Fine Art from another major. My first workshop was the metal workshop.
To me, metal feels like bone. In many of my works, it functions as the structural framework — the stabilizing element. Metal gives me a sense of solidity, but it also carries danger.
When I first started cutting and welding, I was terrified — my hands were shaking and my heart was racing. Yet I was deeply drawn to that coexistence of danger and beauty. Even when I make objects resembling instruments of punishment, I am aware that they might hurt me during the process. But there is something about this aggressive physical engagement that I find strangely compelling and even pleasurable.
I have loved art and beautiful things since childhood. However, because my father is an artist, I grew up believing that I did not have enough talent to follow the same path. I never seriously considered becoming an artist myself—I thought appreciating art as a lifelong interest would be enough.
Later, when I was studying mathematics and statistics as an undergraduate, I felt deeply unhappy. For a period of time, I struggled to find meaning in my life. It was during that time that I began to turn to artistic creation as a way to untangle my inner conflicts.
My first work was closely connected to my father’s influence. As he is a traditional Chinese calligraphy and ink painting artist, I created a video piece in which I wrote characters with ink directly onto the human body. The words were inspired by my father’s teachings and educational philosophy. Through this performative act, I confronted and deconstructed the subtle power he had held over me since childhood. Symbolically, the balance shifted—from his power over me to my power over that influence. That moment marked the true beginning of my artistic practice.
What materials do you like to use in your work?
I transitioned into Fine Art from another major. My first workshop was the metal workshop.
To me, metal feels like bone. In many of my works, it functions as the structural framework — the stabilizing element. Metal gives me a sense of solidity, but it also carries danger.
When I first started cutting and welding, I was terrified — my hands were shaking and my heart was racing. Yet I was deeply drawn to that coexistence of danger and beauty. Even when I make objects resembling instruments of punishment, I am aware that they might hurt me during the process. But there is something about this aggressive physical engagement that I find strangely compelling and even pleasurable.
Saki‘s studio in London
I’ve noticed many found objects in your work too.
Yes, I love working with found objects. For example, the door in my guillotine piece was a second-hand door I bought on eBay. The violin was also purchased online and later transformed into a bow. In another project, I turned a hanger found at a market into a sculpture.
I am drawn to objects that already carry history and symbolism. They come with embedded meanings, and through transformation, I attempt to shift or even overturn their accumulated significance.
What’s your favourite piece of art/object in your home?
A “Butt Chair.” It’s extremely sensual.Could you tell us a bit more about the violin project?
Initially, I bought the violin simply out of curiosity, intending to modify it somehow. The idea of transforming it into a bow came as a sudden intuition.Many of my works emerge from moments of spontaneity rather than pre-planned concepts.
The violin symbolizes creativity and artistic expression. But when transformed into a bow weapon, it becomes an object of destruction and aggression. Its meaning is completely reversed. The violin’s form also resembles the softness of a female body. I am not explicitly pursuing feminist narratives, but I am interested in empowering forms traditionally associated with femininity. For example, in the guillotine piece,Chinese women’s hair becomes a blade.
Power, Will, Move
Rubber, violin, string, steel.
2025
Rubber, violin, string, steel.
2025
So the found objects you collect may become your future works?
Yes. For instance, there is a weighing scale on my workbench that I’ve kept for a long time. I haven’t had that moment of intuition yet. If it doesn’t come naturally, I don’t force it.
Yes. For instance, there is a weighing scale on my workbench that I’ve kept for a long time. I haven’t had that moment of intuition yet. If it doesn’t come naturally, I don’t force it.
Do you have any interesting collections you can show us?
Yes, these are my old scrapbooks and notebooks. I used to collect a lot of images, print them out, and paste them in as a source of inspiration. This was an early habit of mine and part of my creative approach. You can see many elements related to torture, pain, and BDSM. Many of my earlier works were connected to torture or BDSM, so I have quite a lot of related material, including pieces like my Door installation.
In your notebook, is this image the prototype for Door?
Yes,that’s the original image from the eBay seller. At the time, someone was renovating their home and selling their old doors on eBay. I often buy interesting things from eBay, and when I saw this door, I thought it was fascinating and transformed it into the work later.
In your notebook, is this image the prototype for Door?
Yes,that’s the original image from the eBay seller. At the time, someone was renovating their home and selling their old doors on eBay. I often buy interesting things from eBay, and when I saw this door, I thought it was fascinating and transformed it into the work later.
Saki‘s notebook and sketchbook
Door.
Human hair, found door, steel.
2025
I noticed a Bible on your bookshelf?
Oh, this book is really interesting. It’s a Bible, but not an ordinary one. I bought it at Tate. The content is still the biblical text, but it’s actually an artist’s photo archive book. Many passages are paired with photographs depicting violence, disaster, war, and suffering. I think the concept is really clever. (The book is Holy Bible by Adam Broomberg & Oliver Chanarin)
Oh, this book is really interesting. It’s a Bible, but not an ordinary one. I bought it at Tate. The content is still the biblical text, but it’s actually an artist’s photo archive book. Many passages are paired with photographs depicting violence, disaster, war, and suffering. I think the concept is really clever. (The book is Holy Bible by Adam Broomberg & Oliver Chanarin)
Saki’s book collection Holy Bible by Adam Broomberg & Oliver Chanarin
How do you see the relationship between life and artistic practice?
This is something I struggle with. I grew up in a relatively elite educational environment, and for a long time, I internalized the idea that artistic production requires external validation. In the beginning, my life and practice were quite separate — I was making work for the sake of making work. Over time, I began digging deeper into myself. Now my practice feels more integrated with my life — closer to a unity between thinking and doing.
What cultural influences shape your work?
In the early stages of my practice, I noticed that I was often appropriating various cultural symbols. Over time, I came to understand that this tendency was closely tied to my upbringing.
I grew up in Shanghai, a city historically shaped by Western colonial presence, surrounded by the French and German concessions. This hybrid identity is often celebrated locally as “Haipai culture,” and many Shanghai residents take pride in it. As a child, I was constantly surrounded by Baroque and Gothic architecture. Ironically, despite being Chinese, I rarely visited temples; instead, a Catholic church stood right next to my home. It was only in recent years that I realized how this layered history of cultural colonization had unconsciously shaped my aesthetic sensibility. I had adopted these visual languages without even realizing it—and this is something I continue to reflect on and critically examine in my own work.
Saki shows us the test process of her new work
Could you describe your current life and working condition? What does your daily or studio routine look like?
At the moment, my life feels slightly chaotic. My rhythm is often driven by upcoming exhibitions or projects in the future. I absorb information constantly and record small ideas every day, but I do not necessarily create work every day. It is more a continuous process of gathering, thinking, and waiting for the right moment.
Where do you go or what do you do in London when you need fresh energy?
At home, I watch films and read books. I try to put my phone away and focus fully on what is in front of me. If the weather is good, I take my dog to the park and spend half the day there. After coming home and giving him a bath, I’m usually completely exhausted—but in a good way.
What kind of work are you planning next?
I would like to move toward artistic furniture and functional objects — integrating usability into my practice. It’s also a way of negotiating a balance between art and commerce.
I would like to move toward artistic furniture and functional objects — integrating usability into my practice. It’s also a way of negotiating a balance between art and commerce.
Aurascape
Aluminium, wood.
2025
Aluminium, wood.
2025
Saki’s storeroom
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