HW    Why don’t you start first? I’ve always been curious about your studio.

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MT     Haha I’m so glad you're here with us for this conversation!

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SC     Me too. I’m actually a bit excited.

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HW    Is this your first time introducing qīqíqǐqì studio like this?

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MT     Actually, this isn’t the first time. In Issue No.1, we focused on introducing what lacquer is, its history, and how it’s made. For this Issue No.2, we want to take a more conversational approach, to introduce our studio in a way that feels more relatable.

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HW    Okay, shall we start from the basics — what exactly is Natural Lacquer?

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SC     Well, In simple terms, it’s a liquid that comes from the lacquer tree (Toxicodendron vernicifluum). It’s kind of like the latex people get  from a rubber tree. Workers carefully make fine cuts along the bark, and the sap slowly oozes out.​

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Its texture is incredibly viscous, and once it’s exposed to air, it slowly hardens into a tough coating, that’s waterproof and resistant to corrosion. Lacquer has been used in China for over seven thousand years, mostly on objects, furniture, architectural decoration, and in traditional crafts and arts.​

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And when we say “Natural Lacquer,” the ‘natural’ part really matters. It distinguishes it from synthetic or chemical lacquers. But I think “natural” is more than just a label of purity. It speaks to the living quality of the material. In folk terms, it’s also called the tree’s blood.​

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But honestly, how did people figure out how to use it in the first place? That part feels kind of magical.

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MT    I think in the beginning, it was all about function. People apply lacquer to their everyday objects, like bowls or pots, to last longer.  And the lacquer also made weapons and armor stronger.

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And there’s the spiritual side: because the process of applying lacquer is so long and almost meditative, it started being used in religious objects too.

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HW    How did the two of you decide to work together and start a studio? I know Siying’s practice has more to do with digital images, right?

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SC     Well, I'm a visual artist, most of my practice related to my graphic design background, so it's mainly image-based. It might not seem directly related to natural lacquer, but what I’ve always been drawn to is the ways perception becomes normalized by technological logic, through speed, swiping, and switching, things we’ve gradually grown used to in everyday life.

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The first time I saw Miao working with lacquer, I was honestly blown away by how physical it felt. It hit me right away, like Miao is using the slowness of lacquer to respond to the things I’d been thinking about, offering another way to look at the speed and direction of technology.

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So after we graduated, we started talking about doing something together. We wanted more people to feel that sense of slowness, to notice pauses and textures, the kinds of things that often get overlooked in a world shaped by technology. Through lacquer, we hoped people could reconnect with the feeling of material, with the time it holds, and with how it pushes back against the fast pace around us.

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HW     How did the name “qīqíqǐqì /漆器岂器” come about? It’s got such a unique rhythm to it!

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MT     “qīqíqǐqì / 漆奇岂器” could be loosely understood as:

“The wonder of lacquer goes far beyond just objects.”

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We’re not asking “What can lacquer be made into?”

We’re asking “How can lacquer speak?”

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The Natural Lacquer carries a deep history and cultural legacy. Many traditional lacquer techniques have been recognized as national intangible cultural heritage. So when people hear “lacquerware,” their first thought is always about preserving and continuing traditional crafts.

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But faced with this weight of tradition, we want to ask: What new possibilities can lacquer bring to the present?

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HW     I really love the idea! How did you start working in such a unique way?

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MT     At the very beginning, I was drawn to lacquer through the work of Weng Jijun. It was a green lacquer painting, the surface was covered with grainy textures, layer upon layer, full of rich details. I was almost instantly moved by that texture. It felt like something between seeing and touching, radiating a kind of weight and a slowness, as if time itself had been layered into it. I couldn’t wait to learn more about this material, so I started researching everything I could about natural lacquer.

 

But actually working with it is not easy. The tools are complicated, and the raw material can only be sourced from Asia. There’s a saying: “A hundred miles, a thousand cuts, for just an ounce of lacquer.” The saying itself is a reminder of how precious and rare it is. By the time all the tools and materials had been shipped from China to the UK, two months had passed.

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In the beginning, I kept experimenting with combining lacquer and different materials, on wood, metal, stone, on hats and clothes, and also inside boxes. I even tried painting it onto a potato, adding one layer a day and watching as the potato slowly sprouted.

Through these experiments, I gradually realized what I loved most was the combination of lacquer and clothing, especially stockings. Stockings are so thin and delicate, but as I kept layering lacquer onto them, I could feel the soft fabric gradually becoming stronger and tougher. That transformation, from softness to strength, made me feel its powerful vitality.

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HW     Was that the piece you showed at your grad show? I had no idea they were stockings! In my mind, stockings are always so soft, I’d never imagined they could be turned into something that felt like stone.

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MT     Yes, I really loved the state it created. Over time, I realized that what interested me most was the gradual transformation between the fabric and the lacquer. In that process, the material wasn’t something I could completely control. It had its own life, its own path of becoming. I wasn’t just using the material, I was observing how it was alive.

So later on, I gradually shifted my focus to a purer exploration of the material.

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HW     So how did this signature series come to be? And why do the forms always have so many folds?

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MT     I think it was both an intuitive impulse and a response to the nature of the material itself. Fabric is so soft — when you handle it, you naturally want to crumple it. And lacquer happens to preserve that crumpled state.

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In this process, my body gradually became a medium for the material, a way for the material to express itself through me. It feels like an organic collaboration.

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Fabric can’t hold a shape on its own. But once lacquer gets involved, its weight, the natural droop of the wet fabric, its reaction with the air… All of these allow the material to begin “changing on its own.” That’s what I’m interested in — how the material keeps transforming and evolving over time, under gravity, under the elements, even after the work is “finished.”

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So in the end, the final form isn’t something I shaped. It’s something that emerged naturally, by moving alongside the material, by following where it wanted to go.

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SC    Speaking of these crumpled, folded forms, I feel like we all have this instinct to want to touch or hold something, like some kind of primal urge.

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When you saw this series, did you feel that impulse to touch it? Were you surprised when you picked one up?​

Like, “Wow, it’s so light. How is it this light?”

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HW     Yes, I was sure it was going to be heavy when I saw it, and then I picked it up and was like, wait, it's this light?!

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SC     Exactly. When people get curious about our work, we always say, “It’s not metal — it’s lacquer!” It kind of sounds like a slogan. But honestly, that “slogan” has sparked so many conversations. I think it’s because the heaviness you see and the lightness you feel when you hold it create such a strong contrast.

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I wonder, when you pick it up, do you feel a kind of weightlessness? Like when you brace yourself to lift a heavy bucket of water, only to realize it’s empty, and you end up falling backwards, landing on the ground.

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In that moment, your expectation and reality fall out of sync. That sudden gap pulls you right back into the present. The pause only lasts a second, but it feels like it catches hold of something real.

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HW     So how do you think about the functionality of these works? Have you ever thought about what people might use them for?

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MT     Honestly, in the beginning, we didn’t know what to name this series. We also weren’t sure what kind of function to assign to it. Should we call it a pen holder? That didn’t feel right. A vase? That didn’t feel right either. We felt that once you define it by a specific function, its possibilities become narrower. But if the audience can define its function for themselves, maybe they’ll feel a stronger connection to it.

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So we named it the Held series. “Held” here describes a state of being carried and supported.

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SC     Exactly. Our work wasn’t created with any specific function in mind, so we decided not to define it at all. We wanted everyone to bring their own perspective to it, to form their own connection, for it to be whatever they think it is.

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Maybe today it’s on a bookshelf, tomorrow it’s on the floor, and the next day it’s hanging from the ceiling…

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MT     Or covering a smoke detector...

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SC     Ugh, I can't unsee it.

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(Laugh)

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​……