The Naked Body's Story, According to Artist Ziqian Liu
Meet the Beijing-based photographer uses her body to express human desire
Courtesy Ziqian Liu
There’s nothing flashy about Ziqian Liu’s photography. Her portfolio is a muted palette of soft gray, beige and brown. It’s a mix of mineral and metallic that’s earthy yet otherworldly, as if the photos were taken in a bunker deep underground. And in this quiet space, Liu tells the nonlinear narrative of her body—a finger pokes out of an elbow, a hand appears where a foot should be, arms and legs tangle around each other.
Liu’s self-portraits shy away from direct eye contact and her facial expression stays neutral. Often, we only see the back of her head or a sliver of her cheek. “The body can indirectly show the emotion I want to express,” she explains. “It’s softer than the face, and can spread out more space to make people to think.”
The 29-year-old Beijing-based photographer attributes this quality of indirectness to hanxu, the Chinese characteristic of implied communication defined as a response to the inadequacy of spoken words. Following Hanxu, Liu leaves room for interpretations and gives power to the interpreter to find their own meaning in the abstract expressions. “There are messages in my work that I want the viewer to see, and some messages that I wish the viewer could feel,” she says.
The 29-year-old Beijing-based photographer attributes this quality of indirectness to hanxu, the Chinese characteristic of implied communication defined as a response to the inadequacy of spoken words. Following Hanxu, Liu leaves room for interpretations and gives power to the interpreter to find their own meaning in the abstract expressions. “There are messages in my work that I want the viewer to see, and some messages that I wish the viewer could feel,” she says.
Liu’s photography uses her body as a vessel to express what words cannot. “There are times when I am very restless, always thinking too much, and sometimes I think I’m a slave of my emotions. When I concentrate on my body, I naturally throw off some restraints. The so-called restraints are not only the superfluous clothes, but also the symbols of trivial things and disorderly thoughts in my life. That space and time completely belongs to myself, and it can be very pure to show what I want to express. It is really a release of the brain.”
This was also the reason why she taught herself photography and began taking self-portraits. After studying abroad in London and Sydney, she says that she wasn’t sure about the next chapter in her life. She had studied communications management, but didn’t want to commit to a particular job. It was through traveling with friends that she found photography. “I experienced new people, events and different scenery. It got rid of my previous sense of urgency, and made me realize that I need a gateway to let emotions slowly release, so I picked up a camera.”
Now she travels between Beijing and her hometown of Jinzhou, in northeast China, working as a freelance photographer. In May 2019, she was part of a group exhibition in Paris called Ethereal: A Daily Poetry at Galerie Joseph. It’s a fitting title for Liu’s work, the definition of ethereal is “extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world.” It also speaks to her regular practice of picture-taking and social media-posting that appear on her feed like verses in a long poem about the virtues of loneliness.
This was also the reason why she taught herself photography and began taking self-portraits. After studying abroad in London and Sydney, she says that she wasn’t sure about the next chapter in her life. She had studied communications management, but didn’t want to commit to a particular job. It was through traveling with friends that she found photography. “I experienced new people, events and different scenery. It got rid of my previous sense of urgency, and made me realize that I need a gateway to let emotions slowly release, so I picked up a camera.”
Now she travels between Beijing and her hometown of Jinzhou, in northeast China, working as a freelance photographer. In May 2019, she was part of a group exhibition in Paris called Ethereal: A Daily Poetry at Galerie Joseph. It’s a fitting title for Liu’s work, the definition of ethereal is “extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world.” It also speaks to her regular practice of picture-taking and social media-posting that appear on her feed like verses in a long poem about the virtues of loneliness.
When I concentrate on my body, I naturally throw off some restraints.
In one image, cut lemons rest on her knees. In another, an ivy crawls up her back. A tulip falls out of her sleeve. Sometimes she poses with unbroken eggs or glasses filled with water. Liu attributes the consistent appearance of nourishment and flowers in her work to a representation of an exploration of identity. “The appearance of these props is fusion. It is an exploration of femininity. Most of my photos show the soft and delicate exterior of women, but behind the images, I want to express the hidden inner strength of women. Being gentle and being strong at the same time—that's one of the things I want for myself.”
In this tension, between perfection and imperfection, between strength and softness, Liu creates her own particular brand of sensuality. She says that it’s not about the sexiness of a commercially ideal body, it’s the expression of what’s in her soul. That’s what she’s showing her audience, and that’s what drives her to keep creating. The poses are the expression of pleasure when you stumble upon something strange about yourself that also feels right. And just like that process, it’s not automatic. “I practice poses little by little until I’m satisfied—and I'm very picky,” she says. “If I don't like the angle of a finger, I'll do it again.”
Regardless, she wants the results to feel effortless. “As today's society is more and more impetuous, the rhythm is also faster and faster. I hope to bring the audience a quiet and dynamic world. I want them to feel calm and soothed—it’s like an emotional massage.” From Liu’s perspective, our inner voice helps us calibrate the challenges of everyday life. Her approach to image-making is rooted in a spiritual philosophy.
In this tension, between perfection and imperfection, between strength and softness, Liu creates her own particular brand of sensuality. She says that it’s not about the sexiness of a commercially ideal body, it’s the expression of what’s in her soul. That’s what she’s showing her audience, and that’s what drives her to keep creating. The poses are the expression of pleasure when you stumble upon something strange about yourself that also feels right. And just like that process, it’s not automatic. “I practice poses little by little until I’m satisfied—and I'm very picky,” she says. “If I don't like the angle of a finger, I'll do it again.”
Regardless, she wants the results to feel effortless. “As today's society is more and more impetuous, the rhythm is also faster and faster. I hope to bring the audience a quiet and dynamic world. I want them to feel calm and soothed—it’s like an emotional massage.” From Liu’s perspective, our inner voice helps us calibrate the challenges of everyday life. Her approach to image-making is rooted in a spiritual philosophy.
When she speaks about her work, it’s easy to imagine that if she wasn’t a photographer, she would make a great psychologist. The emphasis that she puts on “self,” for example, aligns with Jungian theory that psychic health relies on a conscious discovery of our individual nature. We are more whole when we look inward rather than outward, a concept that is explicitly communicated by Liu’s use of small round mirrors.
Her ideas always connect back to her body, sometimes in unexpected ways. When discussing her favorite body part, she talks about the moles on her shoulders. “They’re in a very symmetrical position. Even the size and color of the moles are the same. I like them because symmetry and perfect order have always been my innermost desire and ideal state of existence, whether that’s the appearance of things or human interactions."
Perhaps her fixation on order—specifically related to something as simple as her moles—in her work has to do with the lack of order in the world. She recognizes, "Society is not balanced, and some imperfect will always be part of existence. These two moles remind me to respect and recognize the imbalance in the real world, but also to keep my own internal order.”
Her ideas always connect back to her body, sometimes in unexpected ways. When discussing her favorite body part, she talks about the moles on her shoulders. “They’re in a very symmetrical position. Even the size and color of the moles are the same. I like them because symmetry and perfect order have always been my innermost desire and ideal state of existence, whether that’s the appearance of things or human interactions."
Perhaps her fixation on order—specifically related to something as simple as her moles—in her work has to do with the lack of order in the world. She recognizes, "Society is not balanced, and some imperfect will always be part of existence. These two moles remind me to respect and recognize the imbalance in the real world, but also to keep my own internal order.”
