In Conversation: Five Minutes with Sarah Chen

The Making of a Sculptor

When Sarah Chen speaks about her work, her hands move as if shaping invisible clay in the air. This physicality isn't surprising for someone whose medium is three-dimensional form, but it reveals something deeper about her relationship with sculpture: for Chen, creating is as natural as breathing.

"I didn't choose sculpture," she tells me during our conversation in her Brooklyn studio, surrounded by works in various stages of completion. "It chose me. From the time I was a child, I've understood the world through my hands, through touch and form. Everything else came later."

Now 34, Chen has emerged as one of the most compelling voices in contemporary sculpture, known for her innovative use of materials and her ability to create works that seem simultaneously ancient and futuristic. Her pieces have been acquired by major museums including the MoMA, Tate Modern, and the Centre Pompidou, and she's currently preparing for a retrospective at the Guggenheim.

"Sculpture is about occupying space—both physical and emotional. When a piece is successful, it changes the room it's in and the person viewing it." — Sarah Chen

Process and Materials

From Concept to Creation

Chen's process begins not with sketches or models, but with what she calls "emotional mapping." Before touching any material, she spends weeks meditating on the feeling or concept she wants to explore, allowing it to take shape in her mind.

"I'm trying to give form to things that don't have form—grief, longing, joy, memory," she explains. "So I need to live with those feelings for a while before I can begin to translate them into something tangible."

Only when this internal process is complete does she begin working with materials. Chen is known for her unconventional combinations—industrial steel with delicate porcelain, concrete with silk, found objects with precious metals. These juxtapositions are central to her artistic philosophy.

The Language of Materials

"Every material has its own voice, its own history," Chen says, gesturing toward a work in progress that combines weathered driftwood with polished titanium. "When I bring different materials together, I'm creating a conversation between them. The wood brings the memory of water and time, while the titanium speaks of the future, of technology. Together, they tell a story that neither could tell alone."

This approach to materials has become something of a signature for Chen, who often spends months sourcing the perfect elements for a piece. She's been known to travel to specific locations to find materials that carry the right resonance for her concept.

"For my 'Origins' series, I needed clay that had never been fired before, that still carried the memory of the earth," she recalls. "I ended up working with a community of traditional potters in rural China who dig their own clay from the same fields their ancestors used for generations. That connection to history was essential for what I was trying to express."

Inspirations and Influences

When asked about her artistic influences, Chen's answer is surprising in its breadth. While she acknowledges the impact of sculptors like Barbara Hepworth and Isamu Noguchi, she draws equal inspiration from sources outside the art world.

"I'm as influenced by quantum physics as I am by Michelangelo," she says. "The idea that matter is mostly empty space, that everything is connected in ways we can't see—these concepts fundamentally shape how I think about form and space."

Chen also cites her multicultural background as a formative influence. Born in Taiwan to a Taiwanese mother and British father, she grew up moving between countries, an experience that shaped her understanding of identity and belonging.

"Never fully belonging to one place or culture taught me that identity is fluid, that we contain multitudes," she reflects. "That idea is at the heart of my work—the tension between what appears fixed and what is constantly changing, between what we see and what lies beneath the surface."

Literature, particularly poetry, is another significant influence. Chen often begins her day by reading poetry, finding that its condensed language and metaphorical thinking provide the perfect mental space for her creative process.

"Poetry does with language what I try to do with form—express the inexpressible," she says. "When I read Mary Oliver or Ocean Vuong, I'm reminded of what's possible when you push beyond the obvious to something deeper and more true."

Breaking Boundaries

Chen's work has been praised for its ability to transcend traditional categories, blending elements of abstract expressionism, minimalism, and conceptual art. Her installations often incorporate light, sound, and even scent, creating immersive environments that challenge viewers' perceptions.

"I don't see myself as just a sculptor," she explains. "I'm interested in creating experiences that engage all the senses, that make people aware of their own bodies in space and their relationship to the world around them."

This boundary-pushing approach is perhaps most evident in her "Threshold" series, interactive installations that respond to viewers' movements and biometric data. In these works, sculptures literally transform based on the heart rate, breathing patterns, and even brain waves of the audience.

"The idea that a sculpture can change based on who is viewing it—that's revolutionary to me," Chen says. "It means that art is no longer a static object but a living dialogue between creator, viewer, and creation."

This technological integration hasn't been without controversy in the traditionally materials-focused world of sculpture, but Chen remains undeterred.

"Every generation of artists has to contend with new technologies," she argues. "The Renaissance masters had new pigments, the Impressionists had new chemistry for tube paints. We have digital tools and biometric sensors. The medium changes, but the fundamental human impulse to create meaning from form remains the same."

The Future of Sculpture

As our conversation draws to a close, I ask Chen about her vision for the future of sculpture. Her eyes light up with enthusiasm as she considers the question.

"I think we're entering one of the most exciting periods in the history of sculpture," she begins. "For so long, sculpture was defined by its physicality—by weight, mass, and permanence. But now, with digital fabrication, virtual reality, and augmented reality, we're able to create sculptures that exist in multiple states simultaneously, that can be in more than one place at a time, that can change and evolve."

Chen is particularly excited about the potential for sculpture to become more accessible and democratic through technology. She's currently experimenting with creating works that can be experienced through VR headsets, allowing people who might never visit a museum to engage with her art.

"Art shouldn't be confined to institutions and collectors," she insists. "Technology has the potential to democratize access, to allow anyone, anywhere to have meaningful encounters with art. That's incredibly exciting to me."

At the same time, she emphasizes the continued importance of physical, tactile experience in an increasingly digital world.

"We're spending more and more of our lives in virtual spaces, which makes our physical encounters with objects and materials more precious, more necessary," she reflects. "I don't see digital and physical as opposing forces but as complementary aspects of the same creative impulse. The future of sculpture lies in finding the right balance between them."