Cindy Hsu | 許維真

The concept of western therapy felt burdensome to me. Instead, I preferred to examine personal anguish and internal conflicts from a birds-eye view - a removed, godlike view - through urgently and unskillfully constructed dioramas made out of cardboard and clay. These were my first clumsy steps into the world of sculpture, messy but undeniably therapeutic.

That was a long time ago. I've become much less filled with angst and more optimistic. I ditched the hatred, the ugliness, and the gore, and instead wanted to create beautiful and funny things that could potentially make others feel joy and perhaps even coax out a little laugh. Since then, I’ve enjoyed building small worlds, starting out with simple, curious “what-if”s and they turn themselves into serious, and time consuming endeavors -

What if inside Patrick Star’s rock was actually a Greek bathhouse where he invites "himselves" over for steamy, classy orgies?

What if we’re so physically strong, bodies bursting with muscles, that we need not fear any ailments, any pandemics?

Thinking back, I moved around a lot when I was young, leaving my home country Taiwan at age ten to attend different schools in Shanghai that provided Singaporean, Chinese, and American education. My accent shifted several times - I was confused as hell. I had little control, a frail sense of cultural identity, and fleeting friendships. One thing I did have complete control over, and found solace in, was my Sylvanian Family Calico Critters toy set. I married squirrels to kittens, divorced them, made them start small businesses, have children, switch clothes, switch genders - a hundred lifetimes were played out in a single afternoon. Grown up now, I take play very seriously (I know, I need to chill out) and it is at the core of my creative processes.

In my imagined microcosms, I find joy and satisfaction not in completion, but in their constant becoming. The playing never ends!

 The concept of western therapy felt burdensome to me. Instead, I preferred to examine personal anguish and internal conflicts from a birds-eye view - a removed, godlike view - through urgently and unskillfully constructed dioramas made out of cardboard and clay. These were my first clumsy steps into the world of sculpture, messy but undeniably therapeutic.

That was a long time ago. I've become much less filled with angst and more optimistic. I ditched the hatred, the ugliness, and the gore, and instead wanted to create beautiful and funny things that could potentially make others feel joy and perhaps even coax out a little laugh. Since then, I’ve enjoyed building small worlds, starting out with simple, curious “what-if”s and they turn themselves into serious, and time consuming endeavors -

What if inside Patrick Star’s rock was actually a Greek bathhouse where he invites "himselves" over for steamy, classy orgies?

What if we’re so physically strong, bodies bursting with muscles, that we need not fear any ailments, any pandemics?

Thinking back, I moved around a lot when I was young, leaving my home country Taiwan at age ten to attend different schools in Shanghai that provided Singaporean, Chinese, and American education. My accent shifted several times - I was confused as hell. I had little control, a frail sense of cultural identity, and fleeting friendships. One thing I did have complete control over, and found solace in, was my Sylvanian Family Calico Critters toy set. I married squirrels to kittens, divorced them, made them start small businesses, have children, switch clothes, switch genders - a hundred lifetimes were played out in a single afternoon. Grown up now, I take play very seriously (I know, I need to chill out) and it is at the core of my creative processes.

In my imagined microcosms, I find joy and satisfaction not in completion, but in their constant becoming. The playing never ends!