Nestled in Hero Pen Factory, an electrifying collective of art studios, is the workspace of Maya Kramer and Jin Shan. The passage to their studio takes you up three flights of stairs through a seemingly abandoned building. Natural light floods the stairway, bursting through weathered windows. The influx of light crescendos until you reach the final floor and find yourself at the doorstep of this lovely couple’s studio.

The unique and charismatic building nicely complements the artists’ studio, a rumbling of unidentifiable materials and captivating works of art. These unidentifiable materials, however, are only unidentifiable to an outside observer, and in fact are quite important, with fascinating stories behind them. For example, when we entered the studio Maya was holding what seemed to be a black feather in her hand. It was indeed a black feather; but it wasn’t just black and it wasn’t exactly a feather–it was made of coal dust. Maya explained how a casual encounter with coal inspired her to explore using coal as an element in her work. Maya holds an appreciation for the accessibility of certain materials in China, such as coal and feathers. The feathers used to create the mold for the coal dust were in fact feathers from chickens and ducks that she hand picked at a market. (Her recounting of the feather-plucking process entailed blood, grossness, and bleach.) Displayed on a wall was an acrylic box holding an arrangement of feathers similar to the one in her hand. The piece shows what once were light, harmless feathers transformed into a beautiful yet menacing arrangement of knife-like spears. Maya’s use of coal to create these spears is not accidental, as she often uses polluting agents in her work. The arrangement of knife-looking feathers was part of a piece titled Against the Wind, which explores our delicate relationship with nature. In the creation of another piece, There is Nothing You Can Measure Anymore, Maya chose not coal, but laundry detergent as a polluting agent. This enthralling piece sets a tiger skull, formed from laundry detergent, against a mirrored glass case. The use of a black light highlights the phosphorus found in laundry detergent, creating a bluish glow, while water trickles onto the tiger head skull, deteriorating it, until only its teeth are left. What remained in Maya’s studio of this piece was the already deteriorated tiger head skull, as well as beautiful but ghostly printed photographs mounted on LED panels. Decay and the environment is often a theme of Maya’s work, as she feels that “it’s a major issue; we’re not doing enough.” Before moving to China and creating Against the Wind and There is Nothing You Can Measure Anymore, Maya’s creation There is No Logic to the Days also worked with decay. This piece, commissioned in New York, sets a broken stairway amidst a jungle, constructed from New York Times newspaper clippings. Her work refutes the idea that humans are capable of rising above decay and instead focuses on the cyclical nature of life, using what once was trees to represent a jungle. Maya spoke extensively about her transition from New York City to Shanghai and how this transition has affected her work. Whereas her project in New York took a year and a half to create, her tiger skull took a total of three weeks. Granted, the difference in scale is massive. However, she stated that the idea of a tiger skull would never have even come to her in New York. The easy access to materials such as coal, hand picked feathers, and even different types of acids (ordered on Taobao), is a liberating part of working in Shanghai. Maya posed a very good question: “If you’re in New York, where do you get duck feathers?” Access to staff and labor also facilitates certain aspects of the creation process, and Shanghai provides more cost-effective alternatives than anywhere in New York. “Your ideas change,” she stated. “I didn’t let seeds germinate in New York.” This facility of access in turn fuels creativity that before was ungraspable. However, working in Shanghai also comes with its own woes. Not only is quality control a big issue, but Maya feels that the language barrier was a point of struggle, although she receives help from her Chinese assistant and has improved her Chinese over the years. On working as an expat in Shanghai, Maya feels that “they want Chinese contemporary artists, and they’re like, ‘you’re a white chick.’” Although Maya believes people still exist who are interested in the the ideas and the art itself, the Chinese market maintains a desire for Chinese contemporary artists. Maya is not the only artist residing in this studio–just a room over is her partner Jin Shan. Maya’s expression of their relationship was perhaps as captivating and intriguing as her art. She spoke of an emotional advantage to being an artistic couple: “You know that their madness can be stopped.” She continued, “there is a conceptual connection... entropy. We have amazing discussions about aesthetics in the car.” Jin Shan and Maya share a connection that they feel has affected their thoughts and ideas, but they work completely independently on their respective art. The couple’s studio radiates positive energy, creative vision, and emotional connection. Maya is currently working on a piece that will be displayed in the following weeks. *Special thanks to Professor Tarocco for organizing the visit to this studio as part of her course: Chinese Contemporary Art, Architecture, and New Media. This article was written by Enrique Menendez. Send an email to [email protected] to get in touch. Photo Credit: Enrique Menendez