For our 'Through Her Eyes' curated collection we spoke to artist Ji Zou who shared her viewpoing on what it means to be a female artist today.
What does it mean to be a woman artist?
The word woman has become increasingly nuanced in today’s social landscape. At times, it feels less like a fixed definition and more like a spectrum of identities and experiences. Because of this, my expression as a woman artist is defined by fluidity and freedom rather than rigid categorization. I don’t think too hard about being a woman in my practice—I think more about what it means to be an artist. That said, my identity as a woman is inherently present in my work because my body is deeply connected to what I create. My experiences, emotions, and history are embedded in every piece, not as a conscious effort to assert femininity, but simply as an undeniable extension of who I am.
How would you define the female gaze?
The female gaze is difficult to pinpoint, and I feel a certain discomfort with the term female itself—it’s a binary word used to describe something I see as fluid, expansive, and even infinite. Instead of viewing the gaze as strictly male or female, I see it as existing on a spectrum, resisting rigid categorizations. I admire artists across this spectrum, like Lisa Yuskavage, who plays with the aesthetics of the male gaze while maintaining a deeply personal, striking, and profound vision. Her work challenges the boundaries of what the female gaze might be, proving that it’s not simply about rejecting traditional depictions but about complicating and expanding them.
How has your identity as a female artist shaped your artistic practice?
My work is rooted in self-portraiture and the body, which is undoubtedly influenced by the legacy of many female artists before me—Frida Kahlo, Lisa Yuskavage, Yoko Ono. Their work has shaped my understanding of how the body can be a site of both personal and political meaning. I explore the relationship between my physical form and two opposing forces: the internal subconscious—the intimate, instinctual, and often hidden aspects of self—and the external world—the projections, pressures, and expectations imposed upon the body. My practice is shaped by navigating these tensions, allowing them to manifest through material, composition, and form.
If you could install your pair of eyes into the viewer, what would you want them to see?
I would want the viewer to see fluidity—the collapse of digital and spiritual realms, the tension between identity and transformation, the way intimacy and alienation can coexist. I would want them to feel the weight of history, both personal and collective, stitched into the layers of my canvases.
Most of all, I want them to sense something unnameable—a presence that exists in the spaces between form and emptiness, between the seen and the unseen.
How does your work reflect personal or collective female experiences?
My work is deeply personal, drawn from my own subjective experiences and how they have been shaped by external social structures. Though my perspective is singular, I believe that authenticity creates connection—when something is deeply felt, it resonates beyond the individual.
I align with Aimé Césaire’s idea of the universal:
"I have a different idea of a universal. It is of a universal rich with all that is particular, rich with all the particulars there are, the deepening of each particular, the coexistence of them all."
To me, this means that personal experiences, when explored with depth and honesty, can reflect something larger—a coexistence of shared histories, emotions, and realities. My work doesn’t attempt to speak for all women, but rather to explore my own experiences in a way that might illuminate something resonant for others.
To receive details of available pieces by Ji Zou please click here