31 July 2026
Artist Highlight - Vivian Van
Interview and Review
Vivian Van is a ceramist and designer who studied at Goldsmiths and Central Saint Martins. Based between London and Macau, her practice sits at the intersection of material culture, social ritual, and sensory experience. She creates participatory works that reframe everyday objects and actions as catalysts for human connection, exploring how small shifts in gesture and form can change the way people relate to one another and the world around them.
ARTIST INTERVIEW
1. Clay, Connect, Celebrate turns a drinking cup into an ocarina. What first led you to connect the act of drinking with sound?
I started with a simple question: how can an everyday object shape the unconscious mind? The cup felt right because drinking is one of the most automatic everyday actions we perform. While developing an interactive tea set, I came across the Inca whistle jar at the V&A. The sound it produced created instant curiosity, and water placed inside linked it directly to a drinking vessel. That connection sparked something. I tried to make a musical kettle, but it was too complex, so I simplified, and eventually the ocarina and the blowing gesture of cooling tea found each other naturally.
2. The work begins with the everyday gesture of cooling tea. How did you decide that this small action could become a shared performance?
The decision came from something I found quite alarming in my research. The WHO has identified social isolation as a critical public health issue, comparable in impact to smoking and physical inactivity. In a fast-paced world, physical interaction is becoming increasingly rare, and we lose it without noticing. That urgency shaped the whole project. I wanted even the smallest gesture, a breath, to become a reason to be present with someone else. The blowing action to cool tea was already there, unconscious and automatic. Making it produce sound meant the more people joined, the more complete the melody became.
3. Each participant holds a specific tone within the piece. How do you think about individual contribution within a collective musical moment?
I think about how physical space shapes who feels included. Rectangle tables can isolate people at the corners, limiting interaction. Round tables remove that barrier; everyone faces each other equally. I wanted to challenge that dynamic. Each cup holds one note, so every person's contribution is essential; the group cannot be complete without everyone. The first note is shared between two corner cups connected by a string, so those two people must coordinate before the whole group can begin. Someone who might feel peripheral suddenly becomes the one who starts everything. The individual note only makes sense within the group.
4. The work does not require musical training. How important was it for the interaction to feel open, intuitive, and low pressure?
It was essential. If someone feels they are not musical enough to participate, they immediately step back and become an observer. That defeats the whole purpose. The project is about social interaction, not performance. Musical skill would have become a distraction from what I actually wanted people to experience: the feeling of being genuinely needed by the group. I was inspired by church handbell ensembles, where the music only works because every single person plays their part. When each cup holds a different note, people coordinate together to complete the melody. Participation feels natural rather than pressured.
5. Your practice often asks people to slow down and pay attention to what their hands are doing. What role does touch play in this work?
Touch is where the shift begins. I worked with the materiality of ceramics because it invites people to pause. But it is the form that surprises. The cup is unconventional; it does not look like a typical drinking vessel, and when you pick it up, it feels unexpected in the hand. The finger placements for the sound holes mean you hold it differently from any cup before. That negotiation changes your relationship with the object. The surface pattern is inspired by mahjong tiles from Chinese culture, a game rooted in social ritual that carries emotional connection for some people.
6. The cups remain recognisable as drinking vessels, yet they take on another function. How do you balance familiarity and surprise in the design?
The tea ceremony context does a lot of the work. When people arrive with a teapot and cups, they already understand the ritual before touching anything. That familiarity creates ease. The surprise then comes from the object itself. I was inspired by puzzle jugs, visually striking vessels that are recognisable as jugs but hide an interactive challenge inside. That idea of a familiar object concealing something unexpected has always interested me. The cup sits within a recognisable ritual but surprises through form. Just like the puzzle jug, the object invites you in before it reveals what it really is.
7. Clay is both an object making material and a social meeting point in your practice. What does ceramic bring to this kind of participatory work?
Clay seems to offer total freedom. You can shape it into anything. But it has its own rules. You can't rush it or force it. I realised that's exactly what I want people to feel when they hold something I've made, that subtle shift where you slow down without even knowing why. Ceramic also carries an unconscious social weight. People handle handmade objects differently, more carefully, more slowly, because they sense the material's fragility and uniqueness. That change in behaviour is exactly what my practice is interested in, and where I work.
8. The piece could be seen as an icebreaker, an instrument, and a cup at the same time. How do you want people to move between these readings?
I think of them as a natural sequence rather than three separate readings. The cup comes first. Its unusual form creates curiosity; people want to pick it up and understand it. Then the unexpected happens, you blow to cool the tea and sound comes out. That surprise shifts your relationship with the object from passive to active. The icebreaking is never the goal; it is the outcome. The bonding happens without trying because the interaction is built into an ordinary gesture. People are connecting before they realise it. The cup does the social work quietly.
9. Within The Strange Everyday, the work transforms a simple ritual into a moment of connection. What do you hope remains with participants after the sound has ended?
I hope two things remain. The first is the memory of a real moment with other people, not mediated by a screen, not rushed, just present. Face-to-face connections have become increasingly rare, and I want people to pause and notice them when they happen. The second is a small shift in how they see everyday objects. If this experience makes someone pick up an ordinary cup afterwards and wonder what else it might be capable of, then something has stayed. I am not trying to solve anything. I just want to leave a trace of curiosity and warmth.
BEFORE THE MELODY BEGINS
Review by Sara Chyan, Curator
Vivian Van’s Clay, Connect, Celebrate turns a tea set into a small musical gathering. Each ceramic cup is also an ocarina, producing a different note when someone blows across its opening. The action comes from an ordinary habit: blowing on tea to cool it before taking a drink. Vivian takes that almost unconscious gesture and gives it a role within a group.
The cups do not resemble conventional drinking vessels. Most have rounded, ring-like bodies, while others are joined into pairs or longer forms. Their glossy surfaces are marked with small blue symbols inspired by mahjong tiles. Sound holes interrupt the curves, suggesting that each piece needs to be held and approached differently. They remain recognisable as cups, although their use is no longer immediately obvious.
That moment of uncertainty is important. Before anyone can make music, they have to work out where to place their hands, where to blow and which mark belongs to them. The accompanying score replaces conventional notation with the same blue patterns found on the ceramics. Participants follow the symbol on the cup they are holding, making the music readable without requiring formal training.
Vivian developed the project in response to social isolation, but the work does not ask people to discuss loneliness directly. It gives them a practical reason to pay attention to one another. Each person holds only one note, so the melody depends on timing, listening and the willingness to join in. Two of the cups are connected by a knitted cord and share the opening note, making coordination necessary before the rest of the group can begin.
There is something deliberately hopeful about this structure. Everyone is given a place and every note is treated as necessary. In practice, however, a group is unlikely to behave as evenly as the score suggests. Someone may miss their cue, make an uncertain sound or need help from the person beside them. I think the work becomes more convincing at that point. Connection is rarely as orderly as a completed melody. It often begins through hesitation, correction and shared amusement.
The mahjong references add another kind of social memory. The blue marks recall a game usually played around a table, where conversation, competition and touch happen alongside one another. Vivian does not copy the tiles directly. She turns their visual language into instructions that can be shared by people who may not know the original game.
Seen together against a dark background, the cups can appear like a finished ceramic collection. Their pale surfaces and repeated decoration give them a strong visual unity. On a table, surrounded by hands, tea and the score, they become less self-contained. The project needs that change of setting. Without use, the objects remain intriguing, but much of their purpose is held in reserve.
Clay, Connect, Celebrate does not attempt to solve social isolation. Its gesture is smaller and more believable. Vivian creates a situation in which strangers have to look up, wait and listen before they can continue. The melody matters, but the more interesting part may be everything that happens while the group is still trying to find it.