Dont Tempt Me: the Art of Kristen Liu-Wong
“Danger” is a word often associated with the candy-colored work of Los Angeles artist Kristen Liu-Wong. Her feminine tableaus, often rendered in a bright blend of acrylics, paint pen, and marker, have particularly veered into more menacing territory in recent years. “The world is a dangerous place,” Liu-Wong says, in a June interview. “I don’t want to get into my past too much, but when you experience and see violence at a young age, it shapes your understanding of humanity. I’ve always recognized the darker aspects of our nature, and I think that’s why my paintings often include some element of danger. Humans are so terrible and wonderful and interesting because of this duality; and it is only by recognizing the shitty parts too, that we can improve ourselves and move towards better things. I think some of the most interesting art that exists is a reflection of the cruelty and danger that the artists saw around them.”
The historical works she cites certainly echo this: Picasso’s anti-war painting “Guernica”; the harrowing 1903 drawing “Woman With Dead Child” by Käthe Kollwitz; or the defining wall installation by Kara Walker, Gone: An Historical Romance of a Civil War as It Occurred b’tween the Dusky Thighs of One Young Negress and Her Heart.
“Not to say that my work is anywhere near as impactful as any of those pieces, but I do try to depict the human experience in its entirety and that includes the darker elements as well,” Walker says. “It’s very cliché but also true: You can’t have light without darkness, and you can’t paint about what it is to be human if you don’t show how dangerous we can be, too.”
In its humor, savagery, and sugary hues, that balance is at play in Liu-Wong’s striking scenes. The San Francisco native recalls her early experimentations in pen and ink or graphite—a budding, graphical practice mostly in black and white and straying from painting altogether. It was then, in high school, that she honed techniques like cross-hatching. “I was young and desperately trying to prove that I was technically skilled, but I also felt disheartened by my previous attempts at painting and color so I avoided certain things,” she recalls.
Her time studying at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn coaxed her out of that—a “Light, Color, and Design” class being pivotal toward her command of unexpected colors today. “I never made a conscious decision to work in the colors I do,” she says. “I think most artists find themselves just drawn to certain colors or moods. So when I first started painting, my palette was bright but warmer in tone because of all of the American folk art I was looking at for inspiration. As my own visual language developed, so did my sense of color, and I’m still playing around with what I do because you never want to stagnate. Of course, I appreciate the dichotomous relationship that my bright, cheerful palette creates with the occasionally macabre or crude content, and I also recognize that the playful sense of color can be what first draws in viewers. But I’d be lying if I pretended that I don’t also just really like pink.”
I’ve always recognized the darker aspects of our nature, and I think that’s why my paintings often include some element of danger.”
In its humor, savagery, and sugary hues, that balance is at play in Liu-Wong’s striking scenes. The San Francisco native recalls her early experimentations in pen and ink or graphite—a budding, graphical practice mostly in black and white and straying from painting altogether. It was then, in high school, that she honed techniques like cross-hatching. “I was young and desperately trying to prove that I was technically skilled, but I also felt disheartened by my previous attempts at painting and color so I avoided certain things,” she recalls.
Her time studying at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn coaxed her out of that—a “Light, Color, and Design” class being pivotal toward her command of unexpected colors today. “I never made a conscious decision to work in the colors I do,” she says. “I think most artists find themselves just drawn to certain colors or moods. So when I first started painting, my palette was bright but warmer in tone because of all of the American folk art I was looking at for inspiration. As my own visual language developed, so did my sense of color, and I’m still playing around with what I do because you never want to stagnate. Of course, I appreciate the dichotomous relationship that my bright, cheerful palette creates with the occasionally macabre or crude content, and I also recognize that the playful sense of color can be what first draws in viewers. But I’d be lying if I pretended that I don’t also just really like pink.”
Her practice occasionally escapes 2-D and adorns unexpected surfaces, from bathing suit collaborations with RVCA, to beer can labels and Vans sneakers. She enjoys the challenge of adapting her sensibility to garments, though she doesn’t necessarily seek it out on a regular basis. “Clothing specifically has to be approached differently, and you have to ask yourself, Is this something I would be okay with wearing?” Liu-Wong says. “My work is quite busy, but I wouldn’t necessarily want to wear something with a zillion patterns in pastels and fluorescents so I have to see how my work can best be translated into something wearable.”
As of our June 2020 conversation, her practice was more focused on paintings and drawings, including collaborative work with Luke Pelletier for a future show with Superchief Gallery. It was originally scheduled for November 2020, but an explosion at a neighboring building in Los Angeles had the gallery looking for a new home, at press time. Between that and the COVID-19-related shutdowns, Liu-Wong, Pelletier, and Superchief are aiming for a November pop-up. Another show in August was slated at New Image Art’s Project Room, with viewing appointments possible so that the show didn’t have to be virtual-only. “A lot of my projects are kind of up in the air right now, if they haven’t been canceled outright, but because each piece takes me so long, I always have work that I can be making,” she says.
… I appreciate the dichotomous relationship that my bright, cheerful palette creates with the occasionally macabre or crude content…”
There is much joy that can be had in the simple act of creation, and sometimes that’s all you can hold onto.”
That reality is tethered to our earlier discussion of “danger.” It has a certain relevance and visceral quality during 2020’s dog days, amid pandemic peaks and national unrest over police killing after police killing. Prior to these major events, Liu-Wong had already been examining her ongoing habits and how they relate to her practice. After her twenty-eighth birthday in September 2019, she began to look at how her stress and lack of sleep was affecting her body. As it has for so many, the pandemic and other events only compounded things with external stress. A realignment has helped: She’s exercising more, sleeping better hours, taking breaks, and taking time to do art for herself, outside of contracted jobs.
“It can still be difficult to not feel guilty for taking a break, especially when the deadlines start piling up, but I’ve also come to realize that the quality of your work suffers if you don’t allow yourself time to enjoy life,” she says. “The pandemic has really spotlighted how fragile human life truly is and things like good health, shelter, being able to do art for a living—those are all privileges that I should be grateful for and make the most of while I can.”
Even the act of making art can feel strange right now, but for Liu-Wong, it’s a chance to add some light to the dark. “It’s been an incredible challenge to be able to stay inspired and focused in these times, and art can often feel frivolous when compared to the giant events that are taking place,” she says. “When there’s so much injustice, suffering, and death around you, what does it matter if you finish a painting or not? It seems silly to be spending hours making a painting of two women eating candy and ice cream when society and the economy has been thrown into chaos. But then some days, when I can sit down and really get lost in a piece, I’m reminded of why I love art and part of why it is so integral to the human experience: Painting playful, happy imagery for hours on end—or painting anything for that matter—can be therapeutic and helps to remind you of the beauty and joy that the world has to offer. There is much joy that can be had in the simple act of creation, and sometimes that’s all you can hold onto.”
This article originally appeared in Hi-Fructose issue 56, which is sold out. Get our latest print issue by subscribing here.
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.