Ceramics making is a battle against inertia. In its natural state, clay always returns to its original form, maintaining its primal shape. Yet through a series of processes—molding, drying, firing—humans attempt to alter the form of clay and combat the inertia of time. This transformation reveals the subtle relationship between time and matter. Clay carries the ancient memory of the earth, while fired ceramics become an eternal symbol of human creation. In the world of ceramics, clay is no longer silent; it takes form as a gaze toward time, a resonance of eternity.
Her Vase
Ash Wei: In your work, how do you view the connection between handmade ceramics and feminist expression?
Eiko Li: This question is actually quite complex for me. I didn’t choose clay to create feminist works, nor did I start with feminism because I was using clay. Initially, there was no connection between the two. But over time, I’ve realized that ceramics and the roles women play in modern society—such as mothers or caretakers—do intersect in some ways. For instance, in one of my works, there are many thorn-like elements. Each time I return to the studio to work on that part, it feels like repetitive labor—creating small thorns, gluing them onto vines, refining and sanding them, and then applying wax to prevent cracking during drying. I repeat this process almost daily, and eventually, I grew weary of it. This process felt like housework. It’s not just the process; even the tools I use—buckets, sponges, rolling pins, whisks, towels—are tools typically associated with housework. Handmade crafts often remind me of the activities women perform in the household, just like the plates and bowls used at home, which are made of ceramic. I feel that the nature of ceramics allows the more delicate aspects of a woman's character to come through.
Her Candle Holder
AW: This brings us to the next question. Do you think ceramics is a temporal medium? In the sense that, like film, it has a certain time span, and its form changes in each phase?
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EL: These days, many people might not understand how a ceramic piece is made because the production process has become so streamlined. The production time is very short, and you can buy a ceramic item at a low price. But if you’re truly starting from clay, the process of making a ceramic piece is a long and monumental one. Ceramics require time to become a finished work. If we consider the process from the birth of clay: you first knock the clay from a mountain, soak it in water until it softens, then filter out impurities. The resulting refined clay needs to be air-dried before it can be shaped into a lump of clay. Every step in this process takes time. Afterward, the clay needs to go through shaping, drying, firing, glazing, and re-firing before it becomes a ceramic piece. This material is entirely reliant on time to shape it into its final form. Without these steps, it wouldn’t appear as it does in the end. For example, if wet clay is sent straight to the kiln without drying, it will explode. If an unfired piece is left out in the elements, it will eventually dissolve back into mud. Only after firing does it transform from a lump of clay into a stone. Furthermore, the properties of ceramics change with each stage of the process. It’s like time—always moving forward, never stagnating. It either becomes a finished ceramic piece or reverts to mud. There is no middle ground, much like the passage of time.
Her Candle Holder
AW: In addition to pure ceramics, you also use ready-made objects and fabrics in your work. How do you decide which materials to use?
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EL: It mainly depends on the malleability of the materials. For example, in Hereditary, which addresses the relationship between individuals and their family of origin, I looked for materials that could express this complex and tangled relationship. So I used shells, bird nests, and silkworm pupae. The materials I choose are mostly things I can find in nature, such as wood, plant fibers, and clay. As for the ready-made items, I choose them based on their form and the needs of the piece. I don’t have a fixed idea of materials or mediums. My works don’t always focus on feminist themes; instead, they are more often inspired by the materials or mediums themselves and the needs of the current moment. This time, there is more attention to exploring the situation of women.
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KE: Many artists choose a single material and try to achieve different effects with it, but you are quite open with your use of materials. You don’t avoid certain materials or only use specific ones to convey a concept. Everything in this world can be used to make art.
Eiko's work unveils the cultural construction of the female body and gender identity, focusing on how gender is internalized through underlying mechanisms in society, family, and language. Drawing from the artist's personal experiences, the work explores how women are socialized from childhood, emphasizing that shame is not just an external oppression but an internalized tool for self-regulation. Through reflections on gender norms, the artist reveals how these norms, often embedded in seemingly mundane interactions, deeply regulate female behavior and identity. This involves not only the objectification of the female body but also the roles imposed and accepted by women in cultural contexts. Her work questions the “natural” norms that conceal a long-standing, institutionalized system of gender oppression and self-surveillance.
Hereditary
AW: You mentioned being influenced by Judy Chicago. Could you tell us more about how she specifically inspired your work?
EL: Judy Chicago and Louise Bourgeois have been huge influences on me. Judy Chicago was one of the first feminist artists I encountered, and her influence has been overall. In The Dinner Party, she invites historical goddesses and outstanding women to a dinner, listing their achievements and showcasing women's impact on society. It’s a work that affirms female strength, and it helped reshape my understanding of feminism. It also played a role in the creation of two of my large ceramic sculptures. The title The Dinner Party makes me think of the Chinese phrase “letting women sit at the table,” which ties perfectly into my sculpture theme—emphasizing that women’s issues should not be overlooked in today’s society.
As for Louise Bourgeois, she transformed the image of the mother into a giant spider. The scale of the sculpture metaphorically reflects the responsibilities of motherhood, such as household duties and education. The impact of this piece, standing there before the audience, creates a sense of awe, much like the reverence people in ancient societies had for goddesses. One must look up to see the spider children in her abdomen or her legs. This feeling of a modern goddess connects to the image of Nuwa in my work. Bourgeois's textile and painting works also focus on themes of female reproduction, the image of pregnant women, and the process of life. These works had a significant impact on me, especially when I first encountered them in high school, as they completely shattered the influence of traditional East Asian societal thinking on me.
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My work aims to highlight the reality that many issues facing women are overlooked in society, but more importantly, it explores the shame and various oppressive situations women face in East Asian cultures. This isn’t just about the lack of legal protections or societal oppression; it also pertains to the psychological burden of invisible oppression. Women have been bound by a certain framework for a long time, particularly in China, Korea, and Japan. Many women don’t even realize they are oppressed, because it has been so ingrained over centuries, becoming a habit. In fact, this shame is a false narrative. Women shouldn’t view their bodies or actions this way. My two large sexual organ sculptures were created within this context. Ironically, my parents care more about whether my hands are smooth or my feet are tan than the actual content of my work.
Tear 1
KE: Do you have any upcoming plans for your work? Or are there any topics you wish to continue exploring or materials you want to experiment with?
EL: One challenge I face is how to make people with different social experiences—such as Americans or men—understand the meaning behind my work. Or, who should my work speak to specifically? In the future, I may explore issues faced by women in different social contexts. As for materials, ceramics will still be my primary focus.
Tear 1
AW: You mentioned that Nuwa is an important source of inspiration. Is she a clue to your understanding of women? How does your thinking about women manifest in your work?
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EL: My latest work, Tears 2, is a continuation of the Tears 1 series. I hope this piece will stand as an undeniable presence, drawing everyone’s gaze and sparking curiosity about what it conveys. Its very size sends a strong signal that the issues surrounding women cannot be ignored. The front of the sculpture features an elegant half-bow, while the other half is perforated, symbolizing the delicate and obedient image women in East Asian societies are expected to embody, and also representing the rebellious emotions that have accumulated within women due to these societal roles. On the back, from a distance, it appears to be covered in scars, but upon closer inspection, those “scars” are revealed to be Chinese characters beside a woman. Many of these words carry derogatory meanings, reflecting the control and oppression women have faced in ancient Chinese patriarchal society, and how these same cultural logics of female degradation and discrimination continue in modern society.
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There is a book titled The Hill of Paradise, which explores the decline of the goddess image worldwide, how it fell from reverence to being forgotten, as patriarchy gradually took its place. Nuwa is a highly iconic goddess in Chinese culture, known not only for “shaping humanity from clay,” but also for repairing the sky, with the leftover stone from her act of mending the heavens becoming the famous stone in Dream of the Red Chamber. Nuwa’s image perfectly represents the former glory of women. The idea of Nuwa creating humans from clay might seem like a coincidence, but it can also be seen as a symbolic connection evoked by the nature of clay itself. The Earth Mother’s nurturing power that brings forth humanity is a perfect metaphor for the ancient goddess. However, over time, with the rise of masculine trends, the image of the goddess shifted into something cold, ugly, and abhorrent. She was either depicted as forcing human sacrifices or had her powers usurped by male deities. This transformation reflects the patriarchal society’s oppression of women from its cultural origins, beginning with stripping them of their divine status.
Women were once so grand, gentle, compassionate, and exalted; in the early days of civilization, they were fearless. In the beginning, gender differences simply were a natural existence. Through my work, I hope to break the stigmatization of women’s bodies, identities, and even their sexual organs. I want women to rediscover their once revered existence. In those ancient times, women never felt ashamed of themselves.
Tear 2
Bonus
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AW: I have a question from a layperson. If ceramics are already fired, is there any way to transform them into a different state?
EL: This is also part of ceramic recycling, and this process is already quite mature. You can crush the fired ceramics into very fine pieces and then mix them into the clay body again. This will improve the sturdiness of the material. During the production process, the clay will have better support and won’t collapse as easily.
INTERVIEWER: YUXUAN WEI
CURATOR: YUXUAN WEI, KE ZHANG
EDITOR: CHENYU LIN
GRAPHIC DESIGNER: YUXUAN WEI
In Chinese mythology, the Goddess Nüwa created humans out of
yellow clay millennia ago, and that's what set me up to use clay
as an expression of feminism. Regretfully, the goddess' glow has
faded with time, with that loss comes a women's pride in their
identity and body. Under East Asian society which Confucian
culture took place of goddess and has ruled for thousands of
years, women’s bodies are a taboo, shameful, and unspeakable
monster. I grew up in a conservative society full of misogyny. The
childhood memories of those moments when my parents taught
me how to be a “good girl” are still in my nightmares, making me
experience self-doubt and self-shame. My work challenges these
traditional norms and the “old me” by exposing this taboo to the
general audience. The bold subject matter and large scale of my
pieces reflect my wish to be seen, as these social issues
concerning women should not be ignored by society.