Edinburgh-based visual artist Xiaoping Yu explores how the body, memory, and belonging intertwine through mixed media, video, and installation. Her recent work Shock — Under My Skin transforms a deeply personal experience of illness into a poetic reflection on emotional adaptation and cultural tension. Combining tactile visuals with haunting sound design, Yu invites viewers to feel what can’t be easily said — the quiet resilience of living between worlds. We caught up with Xiaoping Yu to discuss how vulnerability becomes strength, and how art can make the invisible visible.
Your recent mixed media work Shock — Under My Skin explores the connection between the body, belonging, and emotional adaptation. What first inspired you to turn your personal experience of illness into an artistic exploration of cultural and psychological tension?
I’m a sensitive and introverted person, and I often prefer to express my emotions through creating. When I first moved to a new country and got sick, my body reacted really strongly to the unfamiliar environment. It was a kind of cultural shock, not just physically but emotionally as well. That experience made me realize how the body can reflect what’s happening inside, especially under cultural and emotional pressure. Many people around me have felt something similar, that struggle to adapt to a new environment, language, and identity, and the quiet sense of loneliness that comes with it. That loneliness and the body’s reactions seem to blend together, sometimes like an invisible tear flowing beneath the skin. Through my art, I try to express those invisible emotions. For me, creating feels like a more direct and honest way to communicate these deeper feelings than words ever could.
Much of your practice reflects on how physical reactions — like allergies or illness — can become metaphors for emotional states. How do you see the body as a storytelling tool in your art?
The traces of skin diseases are like symbols engraved on the body. For me, the body is not only a physiological existence but also an important medium for perceiving the world and expressing emotions. Foucault once said that the body is a kind of “discourse”, which, like language, can carry meaning and emotion. Camus also mentioned that “the body is my homeland”, a statement that resonates deeply with me. The body is not only the starting point of my experience of the world but also the origin of my creation. In my works, the body is often regarded as a carrier of emotions. Works like “Shock — Under My Skin” originate from my real bodily experiences. When I fell ill in a new cultural environment, the feelings of being out of control, strange and isolated were deeply imprinted on my body. Illness made me realize that the body not only reflects physiological changes but also records the fluctuations of psychology and emotions. The reactions of the skin, pain, and even the slightest tremors are all externalizations of emotions and stress. What interests me is this “language of the body”, which speaks in its own way when language fails to describe emotions. The experience of illness forced me to rethink the boundaries of “self” and “control”, and also allowed me to see the creativity hidden in vulnerability.
I hope that when viewers watch my works, they do not just see the surface of the body but can feel the emotions and psychological tension flowing within. For me, art is a way to make the invisible visible, and also a dialogue between the body and emotions.
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You describe Shock — Under My Skin as both a visual and sonic experience. Can you tell us about your approach to sound design and how it interacts with the imagery to convey inner emotions?
I have been thinking about how sound and video can work together to create a more delicate and deeper emotional atmosphere. For me, sound design doesn’t start from melody or rhythm, but from a bodily feeling, such as an uneasy tremble, a slow heartbeat, or a suppressed breath. I try to capture or create these sounds, sometimes from real environmental recordings, and sometimes from my own body. In this way, the sounds feel more tactile, as if they can be “felt” rather than just heard.
In my videos, I use subtle facial expressions and the distortion of skin textures to express emotional changes within. These small details blend with the inner monologue in my voice, forming an interaction between what is seen and what is heard. I also include sounds that represent local culture in Edinburgh, such as the noise of pubs, the music of Scottish bagpipes, and the strong wind from Arthur’s Seat. These sounds are not only marks of the external environment but also reflections of how my body and culture meet in a foreign place.
I hope this blending of visuals and sounds allows the audience to not only see the surface of the body but also hear the emotions beneath it. The combination of sound and image creates an open sense of space, awakening the audience’s perception and imagination, as if they are inside the work, moving freely between emotion and environment. For me, this “skin of sound” gives the work a sense of breathing and invites the audience to join me in that flowing state between the body and the world.
As someone who has lived between Qingdao and Edinburgh, how has your cross-cultural experience influenced the way you understand identity, belonging, and artistic expression?
My life between Qingdao and Edinburgh has given me a profound understanding of being “between two cultures.” It’s not just a geographical shift, but a fluidity of identity. In Edinburgh, I often felt like an “outsider” – a role that brought both distance and fresh perspectives. When I returned to Qingdao, I found myself subtly disconnected from the familiar surroundings. This made me wonder: Where exactly does my “belonging” lie?
My body serves as a bridge between these two cities, carrying the traces of memory, language and culture, while constantly adapting and reorganizing. It becomes the starting point for me to understand myself and the world, recording the contradiction between drifting and belonging, and witnessing my growth between two cultures.
For me, art is precisely the medium to express this fluidity and transformation. It transcends language as a form of communication, materializing the vague, complex, and inexpressible emotions. Through imagery, materials, and sound, I transform the body into a language of emotion, elevating personal experiences into universal perception and resonance. My cross-cultural experiences have heightened my awareness of boundaries. Linguistic, cultural, and interpersonal. I aim to create an open space through my work, inviting viewers to connect with me on an emotional level while prompting them to reconsider the meanings of identity, belonging, and the body.
Your work often transforms vulnerability into strength. What does healing mean to you in the context of contemporary art, and how has this process shaped your creative journey?
In my art, “healing” is not simply about fixing something that is broken. It is a process of living with pain and learning to understand it. Healing is not about erasing the wounds, but about accepting them and giving them new meaning. Many times, I see vulnerability as a kind of strength, because it allows me to truly feel the connection between the body and emotions. The scars left on my skin by illness have also become part of my art. They are not just marks of physical memory, but symbols of reconciliation with my past and with myself.
For me, healing is a gentle process of bringing inner emotions and subconscious feelings into the open through creation. Making art allows me to listen to my inner voice and turn unclear emotions into something visible and tangible. Through the touch of materials, the rhythm of moving images, and the vibration of sound, I rebuild my connection with my body. This process itself is healing. It is not a final destination, but a continuous flow and an ongoing dialogue.
In the context of contemporary art, I see healing as a form of self-awareness. It is not about taking away pain, but about turning personal experience into a shared emotional space. When people look at my works, they may feel a quiet sense of connection, a strength that grows out of vulnerability. I hope this strength can help people rethink the relationship between pain and recovery, and understand how art can become a bridge between emotion and the body.
You work across a variety of media — from clay and resin sculptures to mixed-media installations and video art. How do you decide which medium best communicates a particular idea or emotion?
For me, the choice of medium is never something I decide in advance. It is always determined by the work itself. Every idea and every emotion has its own most suitable language. For example, when I want to express the feeling of touch or a kind of inner tension, I choose materials like clay or resin. They can directly record the movement of my hands, the warmth, the pressure, and even the traces of my skin. When I want to explore memory or psychological fluidity, video or sound can better express those vague and invisible emotions.
I enjoy finding the sense of “transformation” between different media. Materials are not fixed in my hands. They can be stretched, reorganized, or even change their meaning during the creative process. Sometimes an idea first appears as a sculpture, but as I keep developing it, I realize it needs sound or space to complete it, and it slowly turns into an installation or a video work.
I see medium not as a limitation, but as a way of thinking. Each material carries its own “emotion,” and I feel like I’m listening to its voice. Choosing a medium is actually a process of finding the right frequency to connect with my feelings. When I sense that a material can naturally express what I want to say, the act of creation begins.
In a world where many people experience disconnection and cultural displacement, what role do you think art can play in helping individuals and societies find empathy and understanding?
In a time when many things feel broken and uncertain, I think one of the most important values of art is that it helps people feel connected again. Art is a way of communication without words. It can create emotional and sensory connections between people. When language, culture, or identity make us feel distant from each other, art offers another way to understand and connect. I hope my works can become a bridge for this kind of connection. When I explore the body and cultural adaptation, I find that feelings like “vulnerability” and “loneliness” are shared by everyone, no matter where they come from. Through art, these personal emotions can be seen and understood by others, turning them into empathy and shared understanding. For me, art doesn’t need to give clear answers. It can simply create a space where people can stop for a moment, feel, listen, and face emotions that are often ignored. Even a small experience like that can remind us that we all share the same human feelings. That moment of understanding can already be a kind of healing.
Looking ahead, how do you envision your practice evolving? Are there new themes, collaborations, or materials you’re excitedto explore as you continue to make the invisible visible through your art?
I hope my work can keep moving along the path of “revealing the invisible,” while becoming more open and interactive. I want to explore how the body, emotion, and environment connect. How humans and nature resonate, and how people today face psychological and cultural adaptation.
I want to collaborate with artists from other fields, like sound or performance, to turn my works from static objects into immersive experiences. I want the audience not just to watch, but to step in, to breathe and feel with the work. I also plan to experiment with materials like bioplastics, silicone, and other responsive media to show the fluidity and fragility of life through their changes.
In the future, I hope to build my own studio in Edinburgh as a space for creation and cultural exchange. I imagine hosting exhibitions, screenings, and workshops that bring artists from different backgrounds together, using art as a bridge for understanding and connection.