Artist Highlight - Jingya Yang

1. You grew up around jade, so the material was part of everyday life before it became part of your practice. Has that closeness made it easier or harder to question its traditions?

At first, this closeness made it harder. Jade was never a neutral material for me; it already carried fixed images of carving, symbolism, value and tradition. There were also external expectations around what jade should look like, which sometimes made me question my own direction. When I began bringing it into my jewellery practice, I realised that jade did not always respond naturally to the formal language I had learned. It has its own structure, resistance and limits. Over time, I understood that I was not rejecting tradition, but trying to understand how it could continue through a contemporary language.

2. Jade is often approached through carving, symbolism and inherited cultural meaning. What did you feel was missing from that way of seeing the material?

I do not think traditional jade carving ignores the material. Good carving often responds carefully to the stone’s colour, texture, flaws and structure. But in that process, the material is usually guided towards a recognisable image, subject or symbolic meaning. What I felt was missing was a more open space for the stone to remain less defined. I am interested in the moment before jade becomes a motif, when its internal texture, density, weight and irregularity can be experienced as the main subject.

3. Your works focus on the internal character of nephrite, including subtle variation, irregularity and unresolved form. What do you look for when selecting a stone?

When selecting a stone, I first respond to a feeling, but that feeling comes from very specific material qualities. I look at its internal texture, density, irregular edges and natural lines. I am often drawn to stones that suggest a landscape, a movement, or a quiet atmosphere without becoming too literal. Sometimes the shape or structure of a stone reminds me of a place I long for, or creates a sense of resonance. I choose a stone when it feels unresolved but already carries its own direction.

4. There is a strong sense of restraint in your pieces. How do you know when to stop working on a material?

Restraint is something I learned over time. In my earlier work, I often felt the result became too full, too decorated, or too polished. It could be attractive at first, but it did not always hold my attention for long. With jade, every cut or polish removes something that cannot be recovered, so I try to stop before the material loses its own presence. I know to stop when the stone can hold attention quietly, and when the remaining space allows the work to breathe.

5. The titles Her Silent Migration, Embedded Silence and Held in Between suggest movement, stillness and a space between states. How do these ideas relate to jade for you?

Her Silent Migration was my first project that truly began from jade, and it was also an experimental attempt to place jade within contemporary jewellery. At that time, I was not sure whether this direction was right, so the migration was quiet, internal and full of doubt. But it also carried a hope: if this shift is possible, will jade still remain silent, or will it gradually be seen differently? Embedded Silence refers to the quietness I feel within the material itself, while Held in Between reflects my position between tradition, change and my own way of working.

6. Jewellery has an intimate relationship with the body. How does being worn change the way jade is seen or understood?

For me, nephrite jade is not a material that reveals itself immediately . It needs to be touched, worn and lived with. When jade is placed on the body, it becomes less like a distant object and more like something you slowly build a relationship with. Its natural oily lustre, smooth surface and the gentle warmth it gains through contact with the body allow people to sense it through the skin. I see jade as an elegant and restrained material; it does not overwhelm the wearer, but quietly enhances their own presence and character.

7. Your work asks viewers to move away from jade as a fixed cultural symbol. Do you see this as a form of respect, resistance, or both?

I do not see my work as resisting traditional jade carving. I grew up with jade, and I genuinely love this material. But as someone from Generation Z, I also feel that many people around my age are distant from jade, or only know it through very fixed images. That makes me feel conflicted. I do not want jade to stay only in one language, because I believe it still has the ability to speak to younger people. For me, this is a form of respect: trying to keep jade alive by allowing it to be seen differently.

8. You mention that familiarity is shaped by repetition. What kind of new attention do you hope your work creates around a material people may think they already know?

I hope my work creates a kind of attention that moves beyond fixed recognition. This is not only about jade, but also about how we look at things we think we already know. Through working with jade, I have learned that familiarity can sometimes stop us from seeing clearly. When we step outside repeated images and assumptions, new possibilities begin to appear. I think this is also why the theme of the exhibition feels meaningful to me: it invites people to look again, with less certainty and more openness.

9. Your jade pieces feel quiet, but they are also questioning a very established visual tradition. What do you hope remains with the viewer after that quiet encounter?

I hope what remains is not a strong statement, but a small hesitation. I would like viewers to pause and question whether jade has to look the way they expected it to look. My pieces are quiet because I do not want to force a new image onto the material. I hope the encounter leaves people with a slower kind of attention, where they begin to notice jade’s subtle presence, its restraint, and the possibility that a familiar material can still become unfamiliar again.