artist stories Archives

“Drawing as a Second Language”: An Interview with Samantha Yun Wall

Sara Butler on Feb 4 2026

Samantha Yun Wall’s monochrome artworks—haunting, mysterious, and emotional—serve as a tool in her ongoing investigation of identity and history. Yun Wall navigates her multiracial background and lack of belonging as a Black Korean immigrant by exploring duality and binaries, creating striking black-and-white drawings that embrace uncertainty and the unknown.

In 2024, the Portland-based artist won the Betty Bowen Award, affording Yun Wall to continue her practice during a turbulent time—both personally and globally. The juried award comes with an unrestricted cash award of $20,000 and a solo exhibition at SAM. Samantha Yun Wall: What We Leave Behind opens at the Seattle Art Museum on February 5, 2026, accompanied by an artist talk from 6⁠–7:30 pm.

Ahead of the exhibition’s debut, we chatted with Yun Wall about the past, present, and future of her journey through art.

Using graphite, charcoal, and ink, drawings comprise the majority of your portfolio. What drew you to this art medium?

Drawing is a relationship I’ve had for a very long time. I was born in Korea, and Korean was my first language. Experiencing first language attrition—I still mourn that. I can’t communicate with my family in Korea anymore. I used to send cassette tapes to my grandmother. We would communicate that way, send them back and forth, and all of that was in Korean.

I think my loss of that language made me value drawing more, because I view that [art medium] as a kind of language. It’s a way for me to process the world around me. But it’s also a tool to communicate. It’s not my first language, but it might be my second. I can’t help but wonder if drawing helped me navigate that space between languages. I just don’t remember a time when I wasn’t drawing.

I used a lot of different tools when I was young, but I think I returned to graphite over and over again because it was so familiar, and there was an ease of working with that tool, that medium, that has developed. And I’ve added complexity to it, like with conté crayon and charcoal—I often sharpen it like pencil lead, or grind it to a fine powder that I use with paint brushes.

Duality and binary are a large part of your art, including your use of black and white colors. Could you discuss the presence of this in your work and how it relates to your practice?

It’s something I obviously had to contend with my entire life—feeling these perceived, static categories that I’ve always felt I’ve had to navigate between. It’s an illusion, it’s a construct, but it’s one that feels so solid and immutable.

Instead of feeling like I wanted to do the work of changing them, I started to feel very comfortable in the space between them, realizing that space offers new possibilities to arise. Outside of the constraints of the binary is a fertile and vast space that has been uncategorized, and there’s a space of freedom there.

I’ve been more and more excited by this in-between space. It can be very isolating, but that also goes hand in hand with the nature of my work. I spend a lot of time in my studio, thinking about my work, my past, the kind of spaces I belong to, and the various communities that I move through, but always recognizing that the deeper sense of belonging isn’t present for me. Through this work, it helps me search for where that place is, because I don’t know if I’ve identified it. And maybe it’s something that doesn’t exist at all, and it’s something that has to be constructed.

Your pieces embrace uncertainty and the unknown. Why are these themes important to you and your art?

It’s uncomfortable for a lot of people—but the unknown presents opportunities to shape what serves us. We can be our entire selves. There’s so much of my own history I didn’t know that I slowly had to become comfortable with. The reevaluating when learning more information about my past that didn’t quite fit who I had learned to be. This remaking is an important part of the human experience that we often don’t allow ourselves to do. We decide, ‘this is who I am, and this is who I will be forever.’ That creates a kind of rigidity that doesn’t serve us; it doesn’t allow us to grow and expand.

What did it mean to you personally to win the Betty Bowen Award?

I was in tears. Last year was probably one of the most difficult years for me as an artist financially, so receiving the monetary award was a lifeline. We’re all experiencing [this turn in the art world]: the cuts to arts funding, grants falling through, organizations being threatened. But I knew my show at SAM was happening, and I was holding onto that. It grounded me and provided stability at a time that is so turbulent. I don’t know if I would be making work right now if not for that award.

Samantha Yun Wall: What We Leave Behind is on view from February 5 to October 5, 2026, at the Seattle Art Museum.

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Artwork credits

What We Leave Behind, 2025, Samantha Yun Wall, Korean/American, b. 1977, ink and conté crayon on Claybord, Courtesy of the artist, © Samantha Yun Wall, photo: Mario Gallucci.

Everything in Between, 2025, Samantha Yun Wall, Korean/American, b. 1977, ink and conté crayon on Claybord, Courtesy of the artist, © Samantha Yun Wall, photo: Mario Gallucci.

Out of Place, 2022, Samantha Yun Wall, Korean, b. 1977, conté crayon, charcoal, and ink on Dura-Lar, 60 x 80 in., © Samantha Yun Wall

Photo credit: Stephen Slappe

Think outside the box at an exhibition inspired by Ai, Rebel

Seattle Art Museum on Aug 22 2025

This is a guest post by Julia Azarcon, Gallery Manager of Columbia City Gallery.

In partnership with the Seattle Art Museum, Columbia City Gallery presents Answer as Question, a juried exhibition inspired by Ai, Rebel: The Art and Activism of Ai Weiwei.

Juried by José Carlos Diaz, SAM’s Susan Brotman Deputy Director for Art, Answer as Question invites artists and audiences to lean into investigation as a form of artistic expression. Featured pieces respond to contemporary artist Ai Weiwei’s retrospective curated by FOONG Ping, SAM’s Foster Foundation Curator of Chinese Art.

Inspired by Ai Weiwei’s iconoclastic questioning of authority, Columbia City Gallery and SAM invited artists to channel Ai’s investigative spirit and submit work that reflects the theme Answer as Question. Artists were encouraged to practice and ignite inquiry, emphasize work rooted in research, and uncover obscured perspectives.

Out of over 500 works submitted, 31 pieces from artists across the US are on view at Columbia City Gallery through August 31. From the selected works, three stood out to the jurors for their powerful engagement with the exhibition’s themes and their ability to embody Ai Weiwei’s spirit of investigation. Each top submission takes a distinct approach—whether through political critique, material inquiry, or personal sacrifice—yet all three artworks share a commitment to asking urgent questions that reverberate beyond the gallery walls.

Immunity by Amber Aguirre

“Immunity explores the consequences of a politically biased Supreme Court that has effectively granted the President unchecked power—placing him above the law and edging the nation toward authoritarianism. In the sculpture, a rat serves as the President, seated on a throne reminiscent of Game of Thrones, symbolizing absolute rule. Surrounding him are six kneeling conservative Supreme Court justices, depicted kissing his ring in a gesture of submission and complicity. Beside the throne stands a “Navy SEAL” figure, representing the president’s ability to command military or paramilitary force without accountability—even to the point of ordering unlawful acts such as murder.” – Amber Aguirre

Amber Aguirre is a child of immigrants and a child of the arts. Hearing her parents share their powerful Holocaust survival stories instilled in her the necessity of speaking up against intolerance and on behalf of the silenced. Her forays into art practice and theory since her youth equipped her with potent methods to communicate outside of language.

Aguirre’s artistic process always begins with an idea, often related to a topic that upsets her. Touching on urgent issues from disability access to the broader political climate, Aguirre combines skillful technique, metaphor, and cheeky pop culture references into accessible, narratively rich sculpture that speaks volumes.

The Search for Purple by Madeleine Marino

“The Search for Purple is inspired by Ai Weiwei’s Snake Ceiling. Just as Ai documented the hidden realities of the Sichuan earthquake, I investigated the often-invisible systems behind ceramic glaze materials. Mineral supply chains are volatile, with costs and availability shifting according to global markets and politics. This year-long experiment in recreating purple glaze highlights both the fragility and persistence of creative practice—reminding us that questioning and adaptation are what allow us to continue.” – Madeleine Marino (condensed from full artist statement)

As a trained scientist from New York City, questioning is second nature to Madeleine Marino. From the research lab to her analysis of social forces, she intuitively formulates questions and pursues them with a single-minded focus. In The Search for Purple, Marino applies experimentation and perseverance to cut through uncertainty.

Her use of miniaturization in clayworking allows her greater flexibility to approach a chosen challenge from many angles, while her research into the murky global mineral trade demands tenacity in the face of obfuscation. Through her serpentine work, Marino speaks to the surprising journey of inquiry and the pressing urgency of engagement in the search for answers.

What You Owe by Jess Cheng

“Ai Weiwei’s work is often political and speaks to personal sacrifice. This work consists of letters from the IRS demanding payment and the names and ages of Palestinians killed with US tax dollars. In this work I reflect on my own complex position within the US as an immigrant, a taxpayer, and a dissident. War Tax Resistance is a form of protest in which one withholds some or all of their taxes, half of which goes towards the military and weapons of war.” – Jess Cheng

Growing up in rural Arkansas as one of the few Chinese Americans in their community, Jess Cheng understood from an early age that they never had the option to be invisible. Despite the difficulties of growing up in that environment, the experience taught them to not be afraid of speaking up.

What You Owe is a meditation on sacrifice. Cheng speaks about their process as an aspect of meditation, where the repetition of motions allows them to enter a meditative state. In their piece, Cheng lists out every name to spend time with all those who have been killed in Gaza, and to remind viewers that it often takes time to pay attention to something.

Together, the top three works—alongside the 28 other pieces on view—demonstrate how artists continue to push inquiry into public life, echoing Ai Weiwei’s call to question authority and uncover silenced perspectives.

Experience Answer as Question at Columbia City Gallery through August 31, and Ai, Rebel at the Seattle Art Museum through September 7.

– Julia Azarcon, Gallery Manager of Columbia City Gallery.

Artwork image credits:

Immunity by Amber Aguirre

The Search for Purple by Madeleine Marino

What You Owe by Jess Cheng

Explore three key moments of Ai, Rebel

Sara Butler on Aug 18 2025

Over 130 pieces by contemporary artist Ai Weiwei now grace the Seattle Art Museum galleries in the Ai, Rebel exhibition. Organizing a 40-year retrospective is a massive undertaking; this robust collection cannot be haphazardly thrown on the walls or placed in random corners. Luckily, the exhibition was at the helm of FOONG Ping, Foster Foundation Curator of Chinese Art, who arranged the diverse group of works with the utmost care. Here are three key moments she cultivated for the ultimate Ai, Rebel experience.

Rooted in Ai’s History

Stepping off the escalator, guests are greeted by an enormous tree constructed of gnarled wooden branches and ancient trunks. Comprised of salvaged wood of various species, the tree represents the myriad experiences that molded Ai into who he is today. Surrounded by black-and-white photographs captured early in his career, along with a touching poem by his father about human connection in the face of adversity, the space introduces us to Ai’s personal and professional identity.

Challenging ‘Made in China’ Mentality

Enveloped by dark blue walls and dimmed lighting, the mood shifts in the Real Fakes gallery. At first glance, the arrangement of blue-and-white porcelain look like relics of the past—but a closer look at the object labels reveals Ai’s replicas are displayed side-by-side with actual 18th-century examples from SAM’s collection. This double-take confronts us with the question of why we assign more value to the original versus the copy. By highlighting the extraordinary skills of Chinese artisans, Ai’s porcelain works challenge us to rethink assumptions about the quality of Chinese-made goods.

Engaging with the Present

Much of Ai Weiwei’s practice is grounded in Chinese history and antiquities. However, Ai is not only interested in the past. Ai, Rebel concludes with a black-and-gold wallpapered hallway spotlighting artworks of various mediums: marble surveillance cameras, large-scale LEGO reconstructions of two pages from the Mueller Report, and a rusted mailbox representing claims of mail-voting fraud. Ai’s reflection on the fragility of American democracy highlights his engagement with today’s political crises, which extend beyond the exhibition.

—Sara Butler, Marketing Copywriter

Photos by Alborz Kamalizad and Chloe Collyer

Anila Quayyum Agha rebuilds sacred spaces

Sara Butler on Aug 12 2025

For Anila Quayyum Agha, strength can be found in fragility. The Pakistani-American artist’s work is influenced by the discrimination she has faced throughout her life—but through large-scale installations, she transforms perceived weakness into power.

Growing up in Lahore, Pakistan, Agha was drawn to architecture from a young age. However, she was excluded from many of these places—such as prayer rooms in mosques—due to her gender. Instead, she stood on the outside looking in, yearning for entry to male-only spaces.

Warhead II (detail, framed), 2023, Anila Quayyum Agha, Pakistani-American, b. 1965, mixed media on paper and mylar (cut paper, encaustic, embroidery, and beads), 37 1/4 x 29 in., Courtesy of Sundaram Tagore Gallery, NYC, and the artist, © Anila Quayyum Agha, photo: Randy Pace

In 1989, Agha earned a BFA in textile design from the National College of the Arts, Lahore. From there, she made the tough decision to leave her homeland behind and migrate to the United States. Though she faced less gender discrimination outside of Pakistan, she was met with different obstacles at the University of Northern Texas, where she pursued an MFA program in fiber arts. Critiques labeled her work as too decorative and feminine to be relevant, and she was encouraged to reference more Euro-Western ideas in her practice.

Agha didn’t let their words dim her spirit. She continued to pursue art on her own terms, inspired by the architecture, fabrics, and colors of her South Asian heritage. In addition to her fiber art, Agha began experimenting with large-scale metal structures, leading to her critically acclaimed work Intersections (2013). When the piece took home the 2014 ArtPrize, she became the first artist to win both the public and jury prize for the competition.

A Beautiful Despair (Blue), 2021, Anila Quayyum Agha, Pakistani-American, b. 1965, lacquered steel and halogen bulb, 60 x 60 x 60 inches, Courtesy of Sundaram Tagore Gallery, NYC, the artist, © Anila Quayyum Agha, photo: Steve Watson/Amon Carter Museum of American Art, Fort Worth, TX.

Her lacquered-steel cubes are laser cut with intricate designs inspired by Islamic architectural latticework. Bright lightbulbs live inside the suspended structures, illuminating dark rooms and spilling ornate geometric patterns onto the surrounding surfaces. Her exploration of binaries cultivates an immersive and emotional environment for guests, who are physically covered by the shadows.

By transforming a typically masculine material, she infiltrates the male space and spotlights the stories of women, migrants, and other disadvantaged groups. Agha uses her experiences of exclusion to create inclusive environments—reconstructing the buildings of her childhood and unlocking their doors. Although her work is deeply personal, everyone is welcome in the spaces she creates. She hopes engaging with the installations encourages visitors from all walks of life to consider new perspectives, prompting them to learn more about diverse cultures and speak up for communities facing discrimination.

This is Not a refuge! (2), 2019, Anila Quayyum Agha, Courtesy of Sundaram Tagore Gallery, NYC, and the artist, photo courtesy of Columbia Museum, Columbia, NC.

Agha continues to construct these steel installations, which have graced galleries all over the world and revitalized public spaces, including a park in her adopted hometown of Indianapolis, Indiana. Along with her 3D structures, her social commentary is infused in her flatworks, including embroidery, beading, paintings, and drawings.

Agha’s solo exhibition Geometry of Light opens at the Seattle Asian Art Museum on August 27.

—Sara Butler, Marketing Copywriter

_{Image credits:}

_{A Beautiful Despair (Blue), 2021, Anila Quayyum Agha, Pakistani-American, b. 1965, lacquered steel and halogen bulb, 60 x 60 x 60 inches, Courtesy of Sundaram Tagore Gallery, NYC, the artist, © Anila Quayyum Agha, photo courtesy of Masterpiece Art Fair, London, UK.}

_{Warhead II (detail, framed), 2023, Anila Quayyum Agha, Pakistani-American, b. 1965, mixed media on paper and mylar (cut paper, encaustic, embroidery, and beads), 37 1/4 x 29 in., Courtesy of Sundaram Tagore Gallery, NYC, and the artist, © Anila Quayyum Agha, photo: Randy Pace}

_{This is Not a Refuge! (2), 2019, Anila Quayyum Agha, Pakistani-American, b. 1965, laser-cut, resin coated aluminum, light bulb, 93 x 58 x 72 in., Courtesy of Sundaram Tagore Gallery, NYC, and the artist, © Anila Quayyum Agha, photo courtesy of Columbia Museum, Columbia, NC.}