Author/Chen Yue
*Original article was published on May 15, 2026
Born in 1992, artist Zhang Yibei has focused primarily on sculpture in recent years. For this exhibition, two of her large-scale commissioned works were moved outdoors due to weight restrictions. Outside the museum, Murmurs of Water and Warblings of Birds takes the form of a "bionic tree signal tower," functioning as a relay station connecting ground and satellite communications. Another piece, installed in a pool, is composed of turbine mechanisms inspired by the cutting and polishing tools used in sculpture production—offering a process-oriented reflection on sculptural practice itself.
On the second floor of the gallery, Zhang's works are smaller and lighter compared to her earlier pieces. Scattered throughout the space are fragments and materials—some drawn from daily life, others found by chance. She has mentioned visiting landfills to source materials, viewing them as sites of convergence where remnants of different lives gather: true waste alongside misplaced objects, moving from dispersal to concentration and reassembly.
Zhang's interest in materials began during university, when she approached them primarily as "single substances." Plastic, derived from petroleum, carries complex material properties and sensory experiences; silicon, the basis of chips, can become either a microchip, glass, or return to its original state as sand. In her view, the same element can generate entirely different forms and meanings through different processes of transformation. In selecting materials, making judgments, and arranging works within the gallery, she consistently relies on intuition and unconscious guidance.
For collectors, contemporary video works and sculptures and installations made from complex materials often present a different kind of collection object compared to traditional paintings. Where does the value of such works lie, and how should one approach and understand them?
With these questions in mind, and taking the new exhibition at UCCA Clay as an opportunity, we spoke with artists Zhou Xiaohu and Zhang Yibei, discussing from their creative perspectives how artistic languages beyond painting operate, and how a collecting logic gradually takes shape within these relatively niche fields.
A Conversation with Zhang Yibei
Q: In the collecting market, sculpture is often considered less easy to circulate compared to easel painting. As an artist trained in sculpture, how do you see this?
A: I actually quite enjoy painting. But in my experience, painting tends to translate feelings or conceptual thinking onto a flat surface—it's a visual presentation that is then further transformed into the viewer's imagination.
Sculpture, however, is not just visual—it engages the body. It can also involve sound, space, and the overall relationship between people and their environment. It's relatively more complex and multidimensional.
Of course, from a collecting perspective, some large-scale works can only be collected by institutions or museums—they're hard to fit into private spaces because they require a considerable amount of room. On the other hand, smaller works can find their way into domestic spaces, and they tend to feel more intimate and connected to daily life. So in this exhibition, I made a point of creating some smaller pieces as well.
Q: In a time of rapid technological change, do you feel anxiety about your creative methods or strategies? Also, compared to works produced within the gallery system for private collectors, what are the clear differences in scale, complexity, and medium use for this type of work?
A: In the process of choosing and learning, I haven't really experienced much anxiety. But before exhibitions, I used to feel a lot of tension. That anxiety didn't come from doubts about the work or about myself—it was more about "how will the audience see this" and the pressure of being scrutinized by peers. Gradually I realized that this kind of anxiety doesn't actually originate from the work itself. Once I acknowledged that, part of it dissolved. It's still there, of course, but it no longer affects me significantly.
I've also received feedback from some private collectors. After acquiring a piece, they would rearrange other parts of their collection, and even alter the entire layout of their space to accommodate the sculpture. That surprised me, and also moved me.
I used to feel somewhat resistant to the relationship between art and the collecting system. But later I came to see that many collectors take their engagement with the work very seriously. I think different kinds of collectors represent two fundamentally different relationships.
Institutional collectors or more seasoned ones usually work as a team—curators, researchers, and committees participate in the decision-making process. They go deeper into the work itself, analyzing it within the context of art history or in terms of its purely artistic language. Individual collectors, on the other hand, approach the work from their own life experiences—it's a completely different way of seeing and using. Both approaches are valid, and both are important.
Q: For collectors who are just starting to engage with contemporary sculpture and installation, what do you think they most need to understand or pay attention to when making a collecting decision?
A: Materials change. Marble, for example, can respond to different lighting conditions—sometimes appearing closer to its natural white, sometimes slowly turning yellow. That's part of its natural transformation. Metal, in fact, shows even more noticeable changes; it oxidizes due to moisture in the air. Whether it's rust or the marks of time, change is part of what time gives to the work.
After a work is collected, most of the time it is displayed indoors, where the environment is relatively stable. Even so, if it's metal, some shifts in color or texture may still occur over time. I think these changes are often something collectors actually appreciate—they become witnesses to time, traces of the work's life alongside its owner.
