Portrait of Tao Siqi. Courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: Several of your works in the past have taken inspiration from specific film directors, texts or collections of poems. Are there are any particular reference points that have informed the paintings in this exhibition?
TS: This group of works continues my ongoing dialogue with cinema, literature, and poetry. These sources not only influence my visual language but also shape the emotional and psychological themes explored in the works. I have drawn inspiration from several films. For example, Alain Robbe-Grillet's The Beautiful Prisoner (La Belle Captive, 1983) is an important reference. The film is like a beautiful and eerie puzzle box. The characters navigate through a maze of perception and illusion, and their relationships are shrouded in desire and mystery. In the film, time is fragmented. Space is both real and surreal. Objects and characters are not merely parts of the narrative, but metaphors of unspoken emotions. These qualities resonate with the visual world I aim to create in my own work—suspended between clarity and ambiguity, filled with tension.
The female protagonist, Marie-Ange, is both an object of desire and an embodiment of enigma. She is desired, watched, and pursued, yet she maintains an elusive distance, almost phantom-like, as if a creature of the dream. In Glance, she is partially concealed behind the bed’s footboard, her gaze subtle and deep with a sense of scrutiny and search, while also emanating an ineffable air of mystery. Directed at the male protagonist, her gaze also places the viewer in a position of being watched.
The film’s incoherent narrative rejects definitive interpretations. This ambiguity is also something I am interested in exploring through painting. Just as film can be described as “a dream within a dream”, I try to create a disorienting feeling and construct a multilayered reality through cropping, close-ups, and fragmented scenes. The viewer is never given the full picture, and is, like the protagonists in the film, left in an unresolved state of desire and unease.
Tao Siqi, Glance, 2024, oil on canvas, 50 x 40 cm / 19.5 x 16 inches. courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: Glance (2024) features a fiery palette of red and gold – whilst these colours help to introduce a sense of dreamlike unease, were there other ideas that informed your choice of colour here?
TS: The colors are, first of all, my response to the overall atmosphere of the film La Belle Captive. Through its repeated surreal narrative and labyrinthine plot, the film creates a psychological space where reality and illusion intertwine, especially in its construction of ambiguous, dreamlike scenes. Red and gold are the perfect vehicles for conveying this atmosphere. The contrast between the colors captures the tension between passion and temperance, immersion and distance.
At the same time, these colors evoke the body’s sensory experiences, warmth, and vitality. Visually, the vibrant red conjures uncontrollable desires, emotions, and impulses of the subconscious, filled with energy and a sense of oppression, while the metallic sheen reflects the faint remnants of reason and reality. Echoing the blonde woman’s aura of mystery and alienation, gold symbolizes restraint and observation. These colors invoke psychological unease and the scrutiny of being watched, with an underlying sense of danger. The woman in the painting is surrounded by these colors, suspended in poise and tension. In a sense, I chose the colors to construct a theatre of emotions, one that I hope instantly pulls the viewer in, and immerses them in an atmosphere that is both fiery and distant.
Tao Siqi, Glance, 2024 [detail], oil on canvas, 50 x 40 cm / 19.5 x 16 inches. courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: The cropping in this image seems cinematic but also unconventional, obscuring the figure. What role does cropping play in your work?
TS: Cropping is crucial. It is not just a compositional choice; I see it more as a form of "sculpting of perceptions." I like to look at the world through the perspective of close-ups, which allows me to focus on the smallest, often overlooked details. A hand, an eye, or a fragment of an object can become a symbol, invoking intimacy, fragility, or even a sense of alienation. By intentionally excluding the full background, cropping creates a closeness while keeping a distance. This emotional push and pull is incredibly compelling to me.
My approach to cropping is deeply influenced by cinema, especially the use of cropping in directing attention, building suspense, and implying emotional states. For example, Stanley Kubrick plays with the camera’s focal point to magnify certain characters and scenes, creating a sense of distortion and disorientation that instills oppression and fear in the viewer. On the other hand, David Lynch's compact and fragmented compositions often invoke mystery and unease. In my paintings, I try to influence the viewer’s perception and create psychological tension through cropping, drawing their attention on specific details while concealing others.
Furthermore, cropping is a way to explore the relationship between the visible and the invisible. By intentionally obscuring parts of the characters or scenes, I create a space where absence is as meaningful as presence. This absence is not a void, but a thick silence, an unresolved suspense that lingers in our minds.
Tao Siqi, Clutch, 2022, oil on canvas, 20 x 30 cm / 8 x 12 inches. courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: Are there certain ideas that are best expressed by focusing on the details of an object, as opposed to its overall appearance?
TS: Definitely. I believe perception is selective by nature. We never truly see the whole picture; we can only observe fragments of the world, that are shaped by our attention, emotions, and biases.
As Roland Barthes describes in Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography, a "punctum" — a small yet poignant detail — has the power to pierce the viewer, evoking a deep personal reaction. Zooming in on details allows us to directly connect with an emotional core, often more intensely than when we see the whole picture. I want the details in my paintings to become an opportunity for people to pause, to go beneath the surface, and experience the underlying emotions.
A full image can often feel familiar in one way or another, but when we look at a detail, that familiarity is broken. It can become alien and eerie. This "defamiliarization" is an integral part of my practice, as it encourages the viewer to interact with the portrayed subject in a new way, without preconceived notions or answers. Focusing on details amplifies intimacy, bringing the viewer closer to the image, yet at the same time, by stripping away the broader context, it maintains a sense of distance, leaving room for ambiguity and personal interpretation.
In my paintings, details are not just parts of the whole. They are sometimes symbols in themselves. For example, a glass of water can signify fragility or longing; a reflection may suggest duality or an unseen presence; the curve of a hand can symbolize tenderness or restraint. Details become emotional landscapes, unto which viewers are free to project their own experiences and interpretations. The power of details lies in its ability to hold tension, even in the absence of the full picture, compelling us to search for meaning within ambiguity.
Tao Siqi, Trapped in Tears, 2021, oil on linen, 80 x 80 cm / 31.5 x 31.5 inches. courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: Chainlink fences have appeared in some of your work in the past, as well as spider webs – what role do barriers play when it comes to your painting?
TS: In my paintings, barriers are not simply obstacles or boundaries, but rather embody the dynamic relationship between "concealment" and "revelation." Whether it is barbed wire, a cobweb, or other forms of obstruction, barriers serve as "visual retention points," guiding the eyes to go back and forth between the apparent and the hidden. They are physical structures in the composition, but also psychological mechanisms of perception that influence how we look at and experience the image.
Moreover, barriers often embody a tension: they are both protective and repressive. Barbed wires can symbolize boundaries, restraint, and control, while a cobweb is more organic and metaphorical. It can be seen as a tool for capture, and may also suggest emotional entanglements or fragility.
By portraying barriers, I want to turn the image into a guide—it does not directly point to the subject but complicates the very act of seeing. When we look through a barrier, we simultaneously experience its presence, and become aware of the opacity of the act of looking itself: our vision is obstructed, divided, and interrupted. There isn't some "truth" waiting to be revealed behind the barbed wire or cobweb. The barrier does not lead to answers, but is rather a part of the process of "revelation".
Tao Siqi, Glance, 2024 [detail], oil on canvas, 50 x 40 cm / 19.5 x 16 inches. courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: Would you say that your work has explored an interest in girlhood in the past?
TS: Girlhood is a special period in life, one that is innocent and yet charged with awakening and transformation. In some of my previous works, I have tried to capture the complex and nuanced emotions of this period, such as the awareness of one's identity, the mix of curiosity about and detachment from the outside world, and the subtle conflicts and confusion in the process of growing up.
The maiden, as a symbol or motif, is often a paradox. On one hand, she embodies innocence and tenderness. On the other hand, she is also experiencing an awakening self-awareness and an undercurrent of desires. This duality is conveyed in my works in a subtle and elusive way. For example, in the painting Glance, there is an uncertainty in the woman’s eyes. Her gaze can be seen as a simple observation, or as a covert examination of desire and power dynamics.
Tao Siqi, Embrace, 2022, oil on canvas, 30 x 60 cm / 12 x 23.5 inches. courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: Animals, as they appear in your work, often seem to possess a certain psychological complexity. Have you used non-human animals as vessels for human psychology in the past?
TS: I am drawn to animals, not only because visually they are fascinating to look at, but also because they reflect certain aspects of human psychology that are difficult to convey through language or logic. Animals are both familiar and mysterious. They act on instinct, connecting us to something primal and ancient, reminding us of our own corporeality and impulses.
In my earlier works, animals often seem gentle and endearing, yet they are not purely innocent. They allude to subconscious desires and sensuality. In my later works, animals take on a tinge of cruelty: a moth drawn to the flame; the deathly entanglement of two snakes… These creatures, driven by primal instinct, rush toward their own destruction, much like humans, who can lose control and become blind in the face of desire.
My fascination with animals lies in their tactility. I like to paint details of animal bodies: their moist tongues, fluffy fur, curled tails… They evoke tactile associations. The sensations—soft, slippery, warm, sticky—feel familiar and intimate, yet at the same time are primal and instinctual. In Cherish, the little bird’s soft feathers and delicate body are cradled by a big hand. I feel contradicting energies in this image—a delicate balance between protection and control, intimacy and danger.
I also like to place animals in surreal, slightly alienated contexts, which creates an uncanny feeling. There is a sense of uncertainty and unease when you look at them. For instance, snakes, octopuses, spiders, and earthworms all have their inherent natural, primal qualities, but when placed in non-ordinary contexts (such as a scene where an animal is about to be devoured, or a spider is weaving a cobweb in the background of a kiss), they transcend their natural existence and become mirrors of our inner selves, reflecting desires, fears, and vulnerabilities that we find hard to face directly.
Tao Siqi, Cherish, 2024, oil on canvas, 30 x 40 cm / 12 x 16 inches. courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: When looking at Cherish, one gets the sense that the large hands that encase the bird protect it but also threaten to crush it any moment. Do you think that by creating an atmosphere of tension, viewers can access thoughts that they would not be able to otherwise?
TS: Indeed. For me, tension is a bond that connects the intangible world of emotions, fear, and desire. Without tension, a painting is just an image, something I would glance at and forget about. I believe the true power of tension lies in its ability to break through the surface of certainty and comfort, and create a fissure between the familiar and the alien, drawing us into a psychological space where the invisible becomes visible. Hidden emotions—sadness, shame, love, desire—begin to take shape and become unneglectable.
In my paintings, tension frequently emerges at the intersection of sensory stimulation and discomfort. Shiny, viscous textures, bounded forms, blurred or exaggerated body parts… They are means to evoke both allure and unease. Tension in the air amplifies sensory experiences, pushing the boundaries of bodily expression and perception. In this context, the body is not just flesh; it becomes a projection of anxiety, fantasy, and taboo.
What art means to me is not that it provides comfort or simple answers. It reflects the complexity of human existence. Tension makes this reflection no longer smooth or static. It shatters the reflection, distorts it, and makes it crumble. In this unease, we enter the painting with our bodily experience, and leave with a psychological aftershock.
Tao Siqi, Conceal, 2022, oil on canvas, 30 x 24 cm / 12 x 9.5 inches. courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: What sort of images are burned into your memory? Are their images you return to over time?
TS: I am drawn to images that cannot be fully decoded. They may not make sense narratively, but should be appreciated for the atmosphere, emotions, and mystery.
Sometimes, a seemingly incidental detail will make me pause—an unexpected splash of red, or a blurred area amidst fleeting light and shadow. It brings out my own emotions, inviting me to search for meaning. However, this search never leads to a definitive answer. This makes me realize that a good image is not meant to be interpreted, but to be felt, imagined, and get lost in.
I find it difficult to categorize the images I am drawn to. They can be fashionable, wild, filled with desire, or they can be innocent, evil, or cute. For me, an image is fascinating not because it conforms to certain aesthetics, but because it gives a sting with its unexpectedness, its complexity and ambiguity, turning the act of viewing into an ongoing exploration.
I tire easily of images. Those that are one-dimensional, no matter how "perfect" or "complete," quickly become boring and irrelevant. They feel like a tightly shut door; there is no space to breathe. On the other hand, those complex, ambiguous, and sometimes discomforting images are like a gap—half open, making me linger and return to them time after time.
Tao Siqi, Windblown, 2022, oil on canvas, 50 x 40 cm / 19.5 x 16 inches. courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: Sensation and sensual stimulation often seem to play an important role in your paintings. Do representation of light, or lighting effects like reflections or glimmers, play a symbolic role in your practice?
TS: Light connects the visible with the invisible. It brings objects out of darkness, yet does not fully reveal them, maintaining a sense of vagueness and incompleteness. This ambiguity endows light with a symbolic power: it is both a vessel for emotion and a metaphor for perception. For example, in Glance, the contrast between the shimmering metallic reflection and the dense crimson background creates a dramatic visual tension, suggesting psychology complexity. The light seems to expose a certain truth, yet its blinding and blurry effect makes the image even more unintelligible.
Light also has sensory qualities. It can make skin, hair, the surface of objects, or even the air itself seem within reach. The contrast between light and shadow, faint reflections, and soft flickers evoke tactile associations. It is not just a visual language but a channel for perception, inviting the viewer to form an intimate connection with the portrayed bodies and objects. The "voice of light" suggested by Hermes Trismegistus is embodied here—it becomes a "silent cry" that awakens the viewer's hidden memories and emotions, pulling them into a deeper sensory experience.
Tao Siqi, Possession, 2024, oil on canvas, steel frame, 150 x 119 cm / 59 x 47 inches. courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: Does your work have an interest in transcending the physical form? Do you view the material constraints of the body are limiting?
TS: For me, the body is not something to transcend, but rather a vessel of emotions and desires, where pain, pleasure, lust, and human vulnerability collide. The body is the starting point through which I enter the emotional and psychological world. It is not only physical; it also functions as symbols and projections of complex inner experiences.
Merleau-Ponty once said, "Every incarnate subject is like an open notebook in which we do not yet know what will be written. Or it is like a new language; we do not know what works it will accomplish..." (Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenology of Perception, p.6). In my work, the body is never abstract; it is always specific—warm, relaxed, tense, and scarred, demanding attention.
The bodies in my paintings are sometimes exaggerated or treated in a slightly surreal way, but these distortions are not meant to elevate the body from its materiality; rather, they are designed to delve deeper into the corporeality, and explore what it means to "inhabit" the body: to be seen, to be vulnerable and at the same time empowered. In my work, exaggerated depictions or overly saturated colors intensify the tension between beauty and grotesqueness, attraction and repulsion, intimacy and alienation, while also reflecting how we project our fantasies, fears, and anxieties onto the body.
The body’s materiality is not a restraint but a source of fascination. It reminds us of bodily limitations and the inevitability of death, anchoring us firmly in the tangible world, even though we long for transcendence. The bodies in my paintings are never still; they tremble in paradoxes. They are simultaneously tender and strong, fragile and frightening, erotic and grotesque, eternal and contemporary. This tension keeps taking me back to the motif of the body. It is not something to escape from, but something to fully embrace.
Tao Siqi, Occupy, 2024, oil on linen, 50 x 60 cm / 19.5 x 23.5 inches. courtesy of the artist, Capsule Shanghai and OTP Copenhagen.
OTP: Your work often seems to blend naturalistic and more representational depictions of the body with distortions of the flesh – when does it become interesting to you to deviate from the typical dimensions of the human form?
TS: Naturalistic portrayal of the body typically emphasizes realistic representation, staying true to proportions and form, conveying a straightforward sense of familiarity. However, realistic reproduction sometimes limits itself to visual completeness, which can make it challenging to capture complex and subtle emotional and psychological conflicts. In my work, the natural form is the starting point for the viewer to enter the image, while the distortion or alienation of the body serves as an accelerator for emotional expression. The body’s form is no longer a closed container, but an open language. When distorted, it becomes a symbol of emotion, memory, and desire. What interests me most is finding a "dynamic balance between reality and distortion" in the image, allowing the body to have a tactile physicality while transcending the material itself to create psychological and emotional resonance.
This deviation does not mean a denial of naturalism, but an expansion of the way we perceive. Typical human proportions create a paradigm of visual order, and when this order is broken, the body is no longer just a realistic representation. It is given a new tension. The distorted body is not detached from reality but rather connects to reality in a deeper way; it amplifies our awareness of the body and reveals the contradictions and anxieties hidden beneath the "normal" appearance.
For example, skin is an important "boundary" in my work. It is both a barrier between the inside and outside, and a carrier of tactile and perceptual experiences. When I zoom in on its texture and elasticity, this attention to detail blurs the boundaries of the body, transforming the skin into a field for emotional fluidity. The motif of the hand is frequently depicted in my work. It symbolizes touch and connection, but can also suggest control and power. Through the exaggeration of the hand's form, I try to convey the dynamic entanglement of tenderness and oppression, desire and fear in intimate relationships. This emphasis on and distortion of the body makes emotions more direct and innegligible.
Interior Alphabet, installation view, 2024, OTP Copenhagen. courtesy of the artist and OTP Copenhagen.
Tao Siqi (b. 1994, Wuhan, Hubei province; CN) lives and works in Shanghai, China. The artist graduated with a BA in painting from the Hubei Institute of Fine Art. Recent exhibitions include: Interior Alphabet at OTP Copenhagen (Copenhagen; DK), Super Community at TANK (Shanghai; CN), Awakening at Capsule Shanghai (Shanghai; CN), Games People Play at Nathalie Karg Gallery (New York City, NY; US).
