Hong Kong pop star Ivana Wong discusses her transition to orchestral composition and the challenge of translating traditional ink aesthetics into a multi-sensory dance performance
Celebrating the profound legacy of the 20th-century master Wu Guanzhong, the Hong Kong Dance Company presents the grand dance poem In Between—Wu Guanzhong’s Ink Odyssey. This cross-disciplinary production serves as a centrepiece of the Chinese Culture Festival 2026 and the Wu Guanzhong Art Sponsorship Series. Directed and choreographed by Yang Yuntao, the performance seeks to translate the fluid essence of traditional Chinese ink and the structural rigor of Western modernism into a physical language.
A pivotal element of this creative fusion is the involvement of acclaimed singer-songwriter Ivana Wong, who steps into the role of composer and guest performer. Moving beyond her pop roots, Wong has crafted an evocative score that weaves together dance, music, and light. By transforming Wu’s signature visual elements—dots, lines, and planes—into a sensory feast, Wong and the creative team bridge the gap between East and West, the figurative and the abstract. Her music acts as the heartbeat of the production, responding to the dancers’ movements and the “silent spaces” within the master's paintings, creating a dialogue that transcends medium and time.
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Above Ivana Wong, the composer of the music for ’In Between—Wu Guanzhong’s Ink Odyssey’ (Photo: courtesy of Wong and Hong Kong Dance Company)
In your career, you’ve branched out from pop songs into composing for an orchestra. What inspired you to compose for a dance show inspired by ink art, which is completely different from the genres you’ve worked on?
Wong: Over the past few years, I have focused on artistic creation and have been looking forward to collaborating with various artists and groups. Receiving the invitation from the Hong Kong Dance Company was a moment of immense joy and honour; I am truly grateful for their trust in my music. To me, different types of music require different skills and knowledge, but they all share the same quality: they speak directly to the human heart. Whether classical, modern, Eastern, or Western, music has the power to stir emotions and evoke deep feelings. Learning to express myself through various genres has been the core of my musical studies recently. The more I learn, the more I want to express, and gradually, I’ve stopped distinguishing between specific styles. My music has begun to take its own shape and scent, and I hope it will eventually become a recognisable signature.
In Between was written in this state of mind, inspired by the works and stories of the master Wu Guanzhong. My mind was filled with the imagery of dance and form—mixing Chinese and Western instruments, percussion, ambience, and soundscapes. It was written in the space between East and West, between the tangible and the ideological, composed point by point and line by line.
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Above ’In Between—Wu Guanzhong’s Ink Odyssey’, with music by Ivana Wong (Photo: courtesy of Hong Kong Dance Company)
How do you translate the abstract concept of ink art’s philosophy into a physical musical score?
Throughout the duration of this project, I placed great trust in my intuition. These feelings were an accumulation of my experiences with Wu’s work, the vitality of the dancers, and my own relationship with music, where it felt as though any sound could become an instrument. I let go of my conventional understanding of rhythm. Every second and every note bypassed rational analysis and frameworks; I simply tried to capture and express them honestly and directly. The result is a piece that occasionally features no fixed key or tempo—representing the “ideological”—yet it remains distinctly musical and continues to touch the soul—the "tangible". I found this process both fresh and fascinating.
Wu Guanzhong was famous for bridging traditional Chinese ink aesthetics with modern Western art. As a composer, how did you use your music to reflect this specific cross-cultural fusion?
The distribution of Chinese and Western instruments originates from their place of birth, historical background and performance techniques. Beyond these technicalities, they are media for sound with unique characteristics that can either clash or blend harmoniously. Music composition is similar to painting in that once you have the technical foundation, the ultimate goal is to express a mood while leaving space for the audience’s imagination and personal inspiration. Achieving this requires constant refinement and writing. It is a process of discovery—adding and subtracting—using notes as points and melodies as lines, constantly navigating the balance between the stroke and the blank space.
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Above ’In Between—Wu Guanzhong’s Ink Odyssey’, with music by Ivana Wong (Photo: courtesy of Hong Kong Dance Company)
Your music responds to the dancers’ breathing and physical language. How does composing for the human body differ from your usual process, and how do you ensure the music breathes with the performers?
I studied dance myself, so I have a basic understanding of the requirements of the art and the relationship between breath and the body. While composing, I couldn't stop scenes of dance from appearing in my mind; the overall layout was filled with imagination regarding the dancers. Musically, I try my best to master when to give the dancers more room to perform and when they need a moment to catch their breath. Of course, communication with Yuntao was vital before I began writing, and we continued to communicate and make changes where necessary after the draft was finished.
Wu Guanzhong’s work is defined by dots, lines and planes. How did you go about transforming these visual elements into musical structures?
Notes are the dots, the melody is the line, and the plane represents the overall layout and sections of the piece. It is a very direct correlation—a flat surface that becomes three-dimensional.

Above From left: Yang Yuntao and Ivana Wong (Photo: courtesy of Hong Kong Dance Company)
How did you use silence or emptiness within your score?
I look for the meaning of the blank space from the layout of the entire painting. Every instance of white space is different; it isn’t just a smear of white, and interpreting it through music doesn't necessarily mean absolute silence or stillness. White space can be a musical rest, allowing the listener to temporarily ignore everything in front of them and focus solely on their own breathing—returning to the very beginning of life. It can also represent imagination and memory, acting like a force that pulls us in. The deeper we fall into that space, the more complex and abstract the emerging sounds might become.
What was the greatest challenge during the creative process?
This was similar to my other creative works: the deadline. My daily schedule is already packed, and exhaustion often becomes a barrier to my creativity.
Given the universal themes of the performance, what unique message do you hope international audiences take away?
I hope that no matter where people are on earth, they find this musical work beautiful to hear. Why be so direct? Music that is considered beautiful has likely touched the heart, melting and opening it just a little, and evoking fragments of life memories. If my music can provide a small sense of companionship for everyone, then the work has meaning, and I will be very satisfied.
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