Xiangjie Rebecca Wu

Xiangjie Rebecca Wu (b. 1998, Jiangyin, Jiangsu, China) is an artist based in Brooklyn. Her artistic practice explores the mourning of personal memory. By integrating the traditional technique of glazing with cinematic composition, she seeks ways to visualize and memorialize lost time and land. In 2022, she was commissioned to create the President Portrait for the College of Wooster. Wu attended Pratt Institute, earning her M.F.A. in Painting/Drawing in 2022, and holds a B.A. with a double major in Studio Art and Philosophy. Her works have been collected by the College of Wooster Art Museum.


Artist Statement

I create figurative paintings that engage with the momentary mourning of loss. Painting memories becomes a means to understand the past and discover myself in the present. By incorporating elements of the southern Yangtze River into my work, I create an intriguing space that is both part of and separate from the world.

Without parental supervision, my cousin and I freely explored and wandered through our home and nature. The central themes of my paintings revolve around the search for selfhood and meditation on objects and space. My haunting experiences in the countryside imbue my work with a disquieting sensibility. An ominous and melancholic atmosphere emerges through a muted and subdued color spectrum.

I believe personal history is more about a sense of self than a specific narrative. Within an immersive blue-green hue, I employ the glazing method to merge realism with dreaminess. Cropping and superimposing images create an ambiguous narrative, inviting audiences to fill in the gaps in meaning. In referencing my memory, I seek to understand the strange fear of insecurity that undermines the stability of selfhood. The oscillation between reality and mystery compels us to reflect and long for ourselves.


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How has the environment you grew up in affected your art practice?

The environment where I grew up has significantly influenced my work. The rural area by the Yangzi River and my childhood spent at my grandmother's house serve as the primary sources of inspiration for my art. As a child, I perceived my experiences differently than I do now. When I was young, I was sent away by my parents to my grandmother's house, where I enjoyed a sense of freedom. There were mysterious jungles and rivers, and I often wandered through old, abandoned houses, daydreaming in rooms drenched in blue glass. Although I sometimes felt confused by my absent parents—perhaps because I thought of my grandparents as my parents—I didn’t feel overwhelmingly sad. However, as that land disappeared, the feeling of loss crept in slowly and quietly.

For the first few years, I avoided certain roads, knowing that much of the countryside had been demolished and that my grandmother's family was just one among many. After the demolition, everyone received new apartment buildings, and no one seemed to express unhappiness. It was only later, after moving away for high school in Singapore and completing my undergraduate and graduate studies in the U.S., that I truly felt the weight of that loss. I hesitate to categorize this feeling as mere homesickness; it’s more about grappling with a cognitive state of loss and memory that connects my childhood to my present life. In reflecting on the past, I gradually begin to understand the intimacy that time holds for me.


If your artwork was a mirror, what would it reflect?

I believe my work reflects a sense of lost space and time. I feel that I live in an era where space and time are rapidly replaced. When I move from one apartment in New York to another, I often lack the time to reflect on the significance of that past space before I must build my life anew in a different one. My work serves as a reflection on the subtle moments of my life and a reconstruction of my relationship with lost spaces and time.


What is the most difficult part (or your least favorite part) of your process?

It may seem unprofessional to admit, but I really dislike stretching and priming my canvas.


Pursuing ‘artist’ as a career is not for the faint of heart. What is the most rewarding aspect of this pursuit?

The most rewarding moments of being an artist occur when I feel a resonance of thought and emotion with the audience that transcends language.


If your art is in a lineage of artists working within similar veins, who would be part of your lineage and why?

I deeply admire the poetry of Louise Glück. Her language consistently provides me with emotional resonance and inspiration. My current work centers on memory and time, and her explorations of these themes allow me to reflect on my own life. I also appreciate Tarkovsky's films for their color, composition, and focus on memory and time; I find I learn a great deal from his work. Additionally, I admire Vilhelm Hammershøi, particularly his paintings of empty rooms.