CRYSTAL

Material as Metaphor, Form as Philosophy:
The Sculptural Language of Crystal

Text by Anna Somova // FVTVRIST

From Amoy to Milan, Crystal is emerging as one of the most compelling sculptural voices of her generation—a practitioner whose work fuses material sensitivity with philosophical depth. Currently studying at the Accademia di Belle Arti di Brera, her practice unfolds at the intersection of Eastern metaphysics and Western sculptural discourse, articulating a language both meditative and precise.

Crystal engages with a wide range of materials—marble, wood, metal, and clay—each chosen not for effect, but for the resonance it holds within the conceptual frame of the work. Her metallic pieces often begin as digital visualizations, where she choreographs form in the virtual space before rendering it into physical presence. This integration of ancient technique and contemporary technology defines her distinctive approach.

At the core of Crystal’s artistic inquiry is the concept of the “not-Self”—a dissolution of ego that recalls both Buddhist philosophy and posthuman thought. Her works are bold manifestations of states: fragile, transitory, suspended between form and formlessness. There is a subtle rigor in her spatial thinking. Crystal’s sculptures operate through quiet poetics, resisting spectacle in favor of presence.

Crystal already appeared on the cover of FVTVRIST ISSUE 01 MARCH with one the most evocative works 「十」, a digital piece in which human elements are abstracted into symbolic forms, constructing the illusion of a ritual. It is an artwork about futility—a poetic meditation on the dissolution of life through meaningless actions.

Today, we follow that thread further—into the conceptual terrain of her studio, the materials that shape her language, and the emergence of a new Chinese voice with the clarity and vision to engage the global art landscape.

We have prepared a special article dedicated to her, not only to explore what she has already revealed—but because Crystal has much more to unveil.

IMG: Courtesy of the artist.

Trauma as origin.

ARTWORK 「Super Survivor」, Crystal.

Metal sculpture.

2025

Rebirth through pain.

l though there are significant differences between Chinese and Western cultures, I prefer to explore the shared origins of their consciousness. Differences are a manifestation of miracles.

How has your move from China to Milan influenced your creative vision and your understanding of artistic freedom?

I'm less interested in the differences between Eastern and Western cultures, and more drawn to their shared roots — the deeper layers of consciousness that connect us. Milan has brought me closer to life itself. It taught me to trust my intuition. My thinking still flows through Chinese philosophy — it's where I’m grounded. And true freedom? It’s not about inventing concepts. It’s about no longer needing them.

What has your experience studying sculpture at the Pinacoteca di Brera been like — creatively, intellectually, and day to day?

Studying at Brera is less about following rules and more about expanding how I think. I’m constantly inspired by the open exchange of ideas — with professors, classmates, and the environment itself. The classes are flexible, giving me space to focus on my own work while pushing me to refine my creativity and expand my perspective. It’s about the infinite possibilities of thought and form. Structure, here, becomes a tool to better realize intuition.

Crystal,
Working at the Studio, 2025.

Can you walk us through the creation of one of your recent sculptures — from initial impulse to materials, process, and inner reflections?

The sculpture I’m working on began with a question I kept hearing: “Do you like Milan?” At first, I answered easily — yes, it’s beautiful. But that surface soon wore thin. Beneath it, I felt chaos, a quiet cruelty, a kind of existential friction. This shift — from beauty to discomfort — became the core of the work. I chose materials that embody contradiction: metal colliding with organic textures, aggressive yet soft, ancient yet futuristic. I’ve been exploring lost-wax casting, marble, metal inlays — anything that carries both tension and memory. The process is never static. I reflect constantly, often overturning my own ideas. There’s a quiet rebellion at the heart of everything I make.

Your sculptures often evoke the metaphysical and the spiritual. How do philosophy, the “not Self,” and ideas of transformation or healing shape your artistic vision?

Philosophy helps me face the unsolvable — not to solve, but to see. I think of existence like H₂O: sometimes ocean, sometimes cloud, always shifting. The soul is both independent and inseparable. Death isn’t an end, it’s a change of form. For me, sculpture isn’t about resonance — it’s about disruption, about provoking thought and giving the soul a brief moment of freedom. Maybe art can’t preserve time, but it leaves traces — fragments that settle deep inside someone, quietly alive.

Your work draws from deep philosophical roots while embracing raw, physical creation. How do Chinese philosophy, ritual, materials, and inner states shape your sculptural process today?

I return again and again to the question of life — something Chinese philosophy and mythology have taught me to contemplate through ritual, silence, and symbolic form. For me, sculpture is both sacred and destructive: in stillness, I carve with force. Ritual isn’t just tradition — it’s a necessity born from the spirit. My process begins with the intangible: a smell, a dream, a metaphysical coincidence. I work with whatever tools match my energy — sometimes even my own body becomes a tool. Everything shifts, including my bond with materials like metal, stone, or wood. They evolve as I do. I don’t feel torn between East and West — their foundations harmonize in my hands. Sculpture, for me, is guided by invisible energies, wrapped in solitude, and confirmed by the unseen.

ARTWORK 「RITE」, Crystal.

Metal sculpture, Oil on canvas.

2025.

"Rite" is the embodiment of ritual in my mind.
Across cultures, the human spirit needs something to hold onto.
Rituals might not mean much — but they prove the soul exists.