Meet Yanqing Pan

Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Yanqing Pan. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Yanqing, appreciate you making time for us and sharing your wisdom with the community. So many of us go through similar pain points throughout our journeys and so hearing about how others overcame obstacles can be helpful. One of those struggles is keeping creativity alive despite all the stresses, challenges and problems we might be dealing with. How do you keep your creativity alive?

By staying close to what fades. I do not try to “keep” creativity alive as something to preserve, but rather to stay attentive to its quiet transformations—the way indigo changes when it breathes, the way orange peel turns to dust. Creativity, for me, is not a force to be maintained but a condition to be listened to.

I keep it alive by refusing to rush meaning. I let materials lead the way: a stain on wood, a trace of oxidation, a silence in the room. These small events matter, remind me that imagination begins where control ends. Reading, walking, waiting—all become part of the same practice of noticing.

To me, creativity survives not through constant production but through stillness, through allowing disappearance, uncertainty, and decay to speak in their own language.

Thanks for sharing that. So, before we get any further into our conversation, can you tell our readers a bit about yourself and what you’re working on?

I work as a contemporary artist exploring the quiet transformations of organic matter—orange peel powder, indigo, bark, and dust. My practice begins with what disappears: I create works that slowly fade, stain, or dissolve, questioning what it means for something to exist without demanding attention. In an age of constant visibility, I’m drawn to what resists being seen.

What excites me most is how materials think on their own—how indigo oxidizes, how scent lingers after form is gone. These processes remind me that creation is not about control but about listening, waiting, and coexisting with change.

Recently, I’ve been developing Avant l’Orange, an artist book made entirely from dried orange peel powder. It exists between a publication and a sculpture, exploring time, fragility, and the poetics of disappearance.

There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?

Looking back, what sustained me were not techniques but dispositions: listening, waiting, and surrendering.

Listening—to the faint rustle of materials, to what the world whispers when you stop naming it. Waiting—allowing time to breathe through each work, letting oxidation, decay, and silence do their invisible labor. And surrendering—to uncertainty, to the unfinished, to the fragile beauty of what will one day vanish.

My advice is simple: do not rush to arrive. Let the unknown accompany you like a quiet friend. Trust the pauses, the accidents, the small transformations that unfold when you no longer demand results. In those intervals, creation stays alive.

Any advice for folks feeling overwhelmed?

When I feel overwhelmed, I turn to silence—and to my cat. They remind me how to exist: to breathe, stretch, and rest without purpose. Watching her sleep in sunlight or chase dust in the air grounds me back into the present moment.

I’ve learned that stillness is not the absence of movement, but rather a state of recovery. When the world feels too loud, I let small rhythms—her purring, slow breathing, the warmth of fur—bring me back to balance. My advice is to find something or someone that teaches you softness, that reminds you you’re allowed to pause. Often, peace arrives quietly, on four paws.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.yanqingpan.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/yanqing_cindy?igsh=dTB5ZzYwZHg3ODg0&utm_source=qr