Catherine Ko Chen
y: Hello Catherine :) Can you tell us a bit more about yourself?
C: I was born in a suburb called San Jose, near San Francisco, California. I grew up there—and honestly, it was pretty boring (ahah). The one place that really stood out to me was the public library. I spent so much time there. I think the first art form I really connected with was reading. It’s such a different kind of creative practice—where you immerse yourself into other worlds. I also visited a lot of museums growing up, so I was surrounded by art and books from a young age.
Y: Are there any books that have deeply influenced you or shaped the way you see the world?
C: Yes — so many! I really love a genre I half-jokingly call “self-aware women monologues.” Rachel Cusk, a British writer, is one of my favorites. She writes long-form pieces that almost feel like conversations—they're really easy to read. She has this gift for noticing the quiet details of everyday life that most people overlook, and she weaves them together with moments from her own experience. I also really love short fiction—Lydia Davis’s work, for instance, is a big favorite of mine.
Y: When did you decide to follow a creative path?
C: I originally considered going to art school — but I didn’t in the end. I’ve always been a bit afraid that doing something I truly love full-time might take away some of its magic. So instead, I went to Cornell University in upstate New York and studied a mix of things —mainly marketing with a concentration in strategy, as well as English, communication, and information science. In the end, though, I don’t think what I do now—as a researcher or as a painter — is all that different. Both involve noticing patterns, paying close attention, and taking the time to understand what’s really going on and where to go next.
Y: How did you commit to becoming an artist?
C: I think I’ve always been making things — even in really small ways. Back in university, I was doing a lot of figure drawing. My earlier work was very much about layering—mostly using ink and magazine paper. I used to collect old Urban Outfitters and Anthropologie catalogs because the photos had this beautiful light to them. I’d draw faces directly onto the pages with a regular pen, then add touches of acrylic paint and use a gold pen to create jewelry-like accents once it dried. A lot of the themes I explore now were already present in that early work — they just keep resurfacing in new forms.
Y: How did you develop your unique approach to layering in your work?
C: After doing those figure drawings, I transitioned into working on canvases. At first, I was still using pens and acrylics, layering in a very literal way, with a lot of vibrant, bold colors—quite different from what I do now. Around 2015 or 2016, I began exploring abstract work. I remember painting on the floor of my tiny room in San Francisco, and that process felt like a natural evolution of everything I had been experimenting with. It wasn’t until around 2017 or 2018 that my paintings started to take on the look and feel they have today.
Y: What do you enjoy most about your creative process?
C: I think there are two things. First, I really enjoy the act of painting itself — especially that first layer. There’s something freeing about it, because I don’t have to worry about how everything will look in the end. I know it’ll be covered up by so many other layers later on, so I can just enjoy the moment. And then there’s the satisfaction of finishing something. It feels so rewarding to look at a piece and know it’s gone through so many stages of transformation. I think as humans, we’re quite literal — we like using our hands. So seeing something physical that I’ve created feels amazing. It’s such a different feeling from the other work I do, like research, which is mostly abstract. That process involves talking to people, identifying themes, and ending up with a presentation. But with painting, I’m making a tangible object — and that’s really special.
Y: Can you tell us a bit more about your work as a researcher? Does it interfere with or influence your artistic practice?
C: I wouldn’t say it’s directly related, but like with most things, you start to see things more clearly when there’s a point of contrast. My research focuses on augmented reality—it’s about how people share visual media today, whether that’s on Instagram or other platforms, and how we can take those behaviors and adapt them to new technologies. So in a way, it’s still very much about creativity—just in a different context. I think working in both fields gives me a broader understanding of how people engage visually, whether it’s through tech or through art.
Y: Where do you draw your inspiration from?
C: I get a lot of inspiration from taking photos with my film camera. I love that you can’t immediately see what you’re capturing — it makes the process more intentional, and I enjoy the anticipation of waiting for the photos to be developed. I’m also deeply inspired by traveling. Whenever I’m in a new place, I find myself drawn to light — whether it’s sunlight filtering through a leaf on a window, a glowing sunset, or reflections through glass. These are the images I revisit before starting a painting.
In terms of other artists, I really admire Mary Weatherford. Her large-scale canvases are full of color and she often incorporates neon lights that illuminate the work in such a unique way. Her paintings are the only ones that have ever made me feel something just by being in the same room. They create this overwhelming sense of wonder — similar to how I feel when I’m standing in a massive landscape and everything around me feels so vast that it makes me feel small. You can’t quite explain it; you’re just flooded with emotion and not thinking about anything else.
Y: Would you consider becoming a full-time artist? Is that something always on your mind?
C: Yes, all the time. Being here at the artist residency at Casa Balandra in Mallorca is probably the closest I’ve come to experimenting with doing art full time. I think I would love to, but I also believe that timing is everything. I want to be in a place —both creatively and personally—where I feel really good about the work I’m making. And I’d want to have a strong support system — other artists or people I can share and talk to about the process.
Because in the end, making art can be a very solitary practice, which I think is beautiful in some ways, but I also find it really important to have conversations around what you’re creating. That exchange feeds the work in its own way.
Y: What would you tell your five-years-younger self?
C: Keep going. I think I would’ve been really surprised if someone had told me I’d be in this position today. For a long time, I didn’t consider making art a serious practice—especially because it wasn’t what I studied. But I’ve realized there are so many people who change careers or have more than one path. You don’t need to choose just one thing.
When I was younger, I struggled with the idea of picking one direction. But the truth is, I’ve never fully picked just one. There are so many things in the world that fascinate me. So I’d tell my younger self: pursue what excites you, without fear. Don’t be too careful—otherwise, you miss out on the magic of unexpected things.
I remember the first time I called myself an artist—it felt terrifying! It was in 2018, the year I had my first show in San Francisco. Before that, I didn’t really think I had the right to use that word or take painting seriously. But when the opportunity came, it just felt right. I made the decision to step into it—and I’m still doing it. And I hope I always will.
Y: How did your first show come about?
C: It was wild! I was living in Inner Sunset, San Francisco. I had just moved in and had also just started my new job as a researcher. One day, I was out getting groceries and walked past this gallery with a small handwritten sign that said “Here Now.” I thought—what is this place?
I ended up going in, and that’s how I met the two people running the space. We became friends, and eventually, we started working together. Over the years, we did three shows together. It kind of changed my life.
Honestly, that’s the best feeling—when you’re creating work you love alongside people you trust and respect. Working toward a shared vision in a space where everyone’s aligned—it’s just incredibly fulfilling.
Y: How would you define the purpose behind your artwork—if there is one?
C: I think it’s about helping people slow down and notice. That’s really at the heart of it. I get especially excited when I see my paintings in people’s homes — it’s such a beautiful feeling to know someone is living with the work.
One of my favorite pieces, from late 2018, is called It Was Nice With You. It’s now in Marin, just across the bridge from San Francisco, and I had the chance to visit it recently. It was such a lovely moment. When you live with a painting, you get to spend so much time with it. You start noticing new things, and it becomes part of your everyday atmosphere.
I also love the idea that once a piece leaves my hands, it’s open to interpretation. People bring their own meaning to it. You have to let go of your original intentions, because every individual experience is valid — and that’s part of what makes it all so special.
Y: What’s next?
C: This experience at Casa Balandra has been incredibly insightful in so many ways. Just being around other artists—seeing their practices, hearing how they talk and think about their work—has been so inspiring.
Looking ahead, I’m really excited to approach painting with less fear. I’ve realized that the best things often come from accidents—when you’re not being too precious about the outcome or even searching for one. I just want to be honest about whatever the experience is, and not try to hide it. I think my work reflects that—being in tune with what’s going on inside and letting the painting lead the way.
A conversation with artist + researcher Catherine Ko Chen at the artist residency Casa Balandra in Mallorca, march 2022.
