Sharon Yaoxi He: Intention & Discovery
Sharon Yaoxi He is a Chinese-Canadian painter based in New York City and New Jersey whose work bridges philosophical inquiry and painterly innovation. Holding an MFA from Columbia University and a BFA from Emily Carr University of Art and Design, she reimagines space as a dynamic, psychological experience rather than a fixed construct. Influenced by both ancient Chinese landscape traditions and Western philosophical thought, her layered perspectives and chromatic tension invite viewers into perceptually fluid, emotionally resonant environments.
How did your creative journey begin?
I have always been drawn to the act of painting itself. From the beginning it was an intuitive pursuit rather than a conscious plan to become a professional artist. I continued painting because the process held a profound appeal, and over time that sustained practice shaped my direction. I did not follow a career title; I followed the work. Gradually it became clear that painting is not only how I make sense of the world, but also how I contribute to it. What began as a personal impulse has grown into a serious, lifelong pursuit.
Your practice draws from both Western philosophy and ancient Chinese painting traditions. How do you navigate the balance between these influences?
I have never set out with the goal of balancing the two. My approach is to absorb and then express—ideas enter my thinking, whether from Western philosophy or Chinese traditions, and they naturally become part of my visual language.
I also believe that “balance” may not be necessary, because at a deeper level these perspectives often converge. For example, Chinese thought emphasizes that all is emptiness, and when I encountered Kant’s ideas on space and time, I realized he was also addressing the constructed nature of perception. These traditions may use different terms, but they point toward comparable truths.
So I do not try to reconcile separate systems. I work within the shared space where East and West overlap, and I remain attentive to those intersections. Painting becomes the site where these perspectives coexist—not as opposing influences, but as voices in a larger conversation.
What does a typical day in the studio look like for you, and how has your art practice grown or changed?
A day in the studio often begins with sitting quietly in front of the canvas. Sometimes it is ten minutes, sometimes half an hour, until I sense how to begin. At other times I arrive with a direction already formed in my mind and start immediately. Once I begin, I work continuously, and much of that time is devoted to revisions. What might first appear as errors or disruptions often become the most compelling moments in the work. These unplanned turns open new directions, much like solving a puzzle.
Over time I have learned to embrace risk and uncertainty. Earlier I wanted every brushstroke to be precise, but now I see unpredictability as a force that moves the work forward. This shift has made the practice more alive and more closely aligned with how I experience the world.
I have also become deliberate about rest. I set clear rules: I do not paint every day. Stepping away allows me to return with a fresh eye. Even when I am not in the studio, I feel I am gathering new ideas and energy. This rhythm of work and pause has made my process more flexible and open, allowing me to approach the canvas with greater ease.
In your view, how does painting allow us to experience perception differently than other mediums, such as film, photography, or installation?
Painting offers a particular immediacy and intimacy. It allows both artist and viewer to engage with time, space, and perception in ways that are fluid and subjective. A painting is not only a representation; it records decisions, layers of process, and rhythms of mark-making. These traces make the work “real” in a distinct sense, inviting contemplation and creating a space that is both perceptual and psychological.
Painting also responds most fully to the way I work. It gives me the freedom to adjust, erase, build, and reimagine in physical terms, so that the act of making becomes inseparable from the final image. Color plays a central role—it carries emotion, rhythm, and presence without relying on language, and reflects the sensibility and psychology of the painter in a way no other medium can replace.
How has social media impacted your work?
Social media has allowed my work to reach wider audiences and has opened opportunities for direct connection. Posts sometimes lead to studio visits or exhibition attendance, giving people the chance to encounter the paintings in person. A photograph can never fully capture color, surface, and presence, but the visibility created online helps generate occasions for deeper engagement. In that way, social media shapes how people discover and respond to the work, while the paintings themselves remain central to the experience.
You’ve spoken about Kant’s notion of space and time as subjective frameworks. How does this philosophical grounding affect the way you approach a blank canvas?
When I face a blank canvas, I begin by observing my surroundings and choosing a point of departure. From there I respond directly and intuitively, without relying on a very clear sketch or fixed plan. I treat the canvas not simply as a surface to fill but as a space to engage with.
In this sense, the canvas itself becomes like a color, a presence I can work with and respond to. This shift in perspective prevents me from taking the surface for granted and allows the painting to unfold as a dialogue between intention and discovery.
Looking ahead, are there new materials, collaborations, or scales of work you’d like to explore in your future practice?
Recently I have been drawn to exploring aspects of traditional Chinese intangible cultural heritage—not for a specific project, but as a way to observe, learn, and experience these practices more deeply. I have always wanted to work on a large-scale painting and hope to realize it next year.