American artist Lauren Tsai, whose first large-scale installation in Hong Kong is on show at Landmark Atrium this month, talks about a darker, less talked-about past that influenced her art
Entering American artist Lauren Tsai’s installation My Dream: Our Hill at Landmark Atrium is like walking in a dreamscape where familiar childhood memories mingle with childlike fantasy: an apple tree with curly branches—one of which is a tiny hand—leans on a hut on a knoll; and mossy grass fills the garden strewn with yellow flowers. At the foot of the knoll are a few dollhouses: a mini cinema, where a soft toy bunny watches a stop-motion picture; a small cosy bedroom; and a studio filled with crunched-up sketches, paintings on a wall and tubes of paint.
Welcome to what Tsai calls her space of “unrealism”, where “fantasy is grounded in reality or exists in parallel with the real, tactile world”. This is her first large-scale solo installation in Hong Kong, which opened on March 25 and runs until April 7.

Above Lauren Tsai at ’My Dream: Our Hill’ (Photo: Tatler Hong Kong/Karl Lam)
“I wanted to create something that feels inherently intimate, be that looking inside the houses through the windows or feeling that warmth in a domestic space, but also to make it distant by putting it into miniatures,” she says. “Because when people see miniatures, [the objects] are usually smaller than they are in their memory. It just creates this very strange effect of how people experience reality, memory and scale. I thought it’d be perfect to work on something like that.”
Tsai has always traversed between reality, memory and imagination in her art. Prior to My Dream: Our Hill, she published several sketchbooks, such as It’s All For You (2018) and Passenger Seat (2019), in which she portrays imaginary characters and creatures and delves into dark themes to tackle her multifaceted emotions. Since her late teens, she has been working on a project called The Dying World, which has remained private until recently (she will make an announcement about this work soon). Since 2023, she has been working on a stop-motion project and in 2024 released a teaser for it, featuring her wide-eyed character Astrid blowing out the candles on a birthday cake in the dark, with eerie music playing in the background.

Above Astrid in ’My Dream: Our Hill’ (Photo: courtesy of the artist)
Whichever medium she chooses, her art is always recognisable for its somewhat dark, haunting and fantastical vibe. It is as if the images are revealing her inner conflict and process of self-discovery. While the visuals don’t follow a conventional plot, they are enactments of scenes based on her memories and imagination. “A memory is the last time you thought of something. Every single time you think of it, it changes a little in shape and form. I’m trying to capture a certain texture of my memories and to be able to try to understand what it means to have to live in the presence of this data of memories,” she says. “That’s also the idea behind my current installation.”
For instance, in My Dream: Our Hill, the apple tree—the centrepiece of the installation—comes from her “recurring memory of an impactful moment in my childhood”. She remembers walking through the forest and discovering “a single ginkgo tree on top of a hill whose abundant fan-like leaves were raining down on me. I thought it was this magical thing that I had found. I have this memory of spinning around all these leaves raining around me. I doubt that it happened, but something similar must have taken place so that I experienced at least the image of the hill.” She would, later in her art practice, come back to this motif of a hill many times, as she got exposed to animated films where hills are a place of rest and introspection: “This was how I became very attached to animated films, especially during some hard times. I was very lonely in school. I’ve always been very introverted.”
The apples come from the memory of apple picking with her family when she was a young child in Massachusetts. “When I moved to Hawaii, [I found that] apple trees don’t grow there. So the apple tree became a symbolic and almost mythical thing. It’s an exploration of how we cannot choose what becomes a myth to us,” she says. “Everyone has something in their childhood that then becomes this aspirational symbol or obsession in their adulthood.”
The obsession with art came early for the artist. “Drawing made up all of my most vivid and exciting childhood memories, like drawing under my desk at night or creating little stories in notebooks at school,” she recalls. When she turned 11, she was first introduced to the internet and started doing illustration and animation. “I had a very interesting start [as an artist], because a lot of artists start in a very traditional way: go to an art school, or get a bachelor’s or master’s degree in fine arts. I started with digital art on the internet. So my paintings and analogue work had a very digital influence to them.” Her time in Tokyo, where she pursued art, further exposed her to Asian art and animation that morphed her artistic style into what it is today.

Above A painting by Lauren Tsai (Image: courtesy of the artist)

Above A painting by Lauren Tsai (Image: courtesy of the artist)
And she hasn’t stopped exploring her style since. Recently, she has turned from the digital to analogue art. “In the past, I did everything on Photoshop from start to finish. Nowadays, I start with analogue: sometimes I scan it and colour it digitally. But for most of my work, I try to keep them as analogue as possible,” she says. “I don’t know why that has occurred. Perhaps because there’s so much information online, and there’s such a large archive of my work on my computer, it’s too much. It doesn’t feel real. So I need to have something.”
However, art isn’t the only means of expression for Tsai. She is also a model and an actor, having acted in Netflix shows. But even as her acting and modelling career flourished, Tsai found herself turning more towards art. “Having all of me be seen so widely made me feel split. I needed a place to escape and explore things I didn’t feel comfortable [doing] as myself. The more public pressure and scrutiny I’ve got, the more I need somewhere else [where I can say] what I want to,” she says. “That’s how I became more attached to my art at that point.”
She doesn’t always separate her art from her acting, however, “because the way I can express through animation [isn’t] any different from when I am acting as myself. My animation is acting for me.”
Credits
Photography: Karl Lam
Hair: Zap Tang
Make-Up: Gary Chung





