Month: May 2026

To reach a wider public beyond LCC, I built my professional website using Cargo, focusing on a visual-led interface that reflects my dual identity. I chose to use icons instead of text to categorize my work: a pair of headphones for “Art/Sound Works” and glasses for “Commercial/Fashion Works.” This distinction is crucial for how my work is received by different audiences.

By separating my experimental anthropological projects from my commercial styling, I can speak to two different publics simultaneously. My 50,000 followers are my primary “commercial public,” while my professional site serves as a portal for galleries and academic institutions. Tools like the Stylophone collaboration allowed me to “translate” complex sound design into accessible vlogs, reaching people who would never step into a sound art gallery. My goal is to use my digital platform as a bridge, bringing the “high-brow” concepts of sound art into the “low-fi” aesthetic of internet culture, making experimental sound part of a broader public conversation.

Living in London, I have observed that few of my peers survive solely on art and music. Most of my friends in the creative scene work as luxury sales assistants, fashion retail staff, or private chefs. Even those with GTV status often balance high-end commercial gigs with their “true” experimental passion projects.

This is the reality I am entering. Seeing my friends work at boutiques during the day and mix tracks at night has taught me resilience. We choose to stay in London because it offers a level of expressive freedom and a “wider public” that is harder to find elsewhere. My own strategy involves using my 50k-follower social media IP to generate commercial income through brand collaborations (like Pop Mart and Stylophone). This “double life” is not a compromise; it is a sophisticated survival strategy that allows me to maintain my artistic integrity without being crushed by the high cost of living in a global creative hub.

Reflecting on the SM-LL lecture, I realized how much an artist’s mindset is tied to their country’s social safety net. As an international student from China, my view of money is shaped by a sense of survival and visa pressure. I was shocked to learn how the UK’s welfare system—such as Thames Water bill discounts or government grants—allows local artists to pursue non-profit-driven dreams.

One of my peers mentioned that her partner quit a good job the moment he saved £3,000, choosing to stay home and focus on his interests because of the available social support. This cultural difference is immense. For Chinese artists in London, we must consider the Global Talent Visa (GTV) or Graduate Visa (PSW), which requires a much higher level of commercial stability. This realization has made me appreciate the inclusivity of the UK creative scene, but also made me realize that my “commercial” fashion work is not a distraction—it is my necessary “safety net” in a foreign system.

A studio (/home) visit the founders of the SM-LL label profoundly changed my view of the “starving artist” trope. They were incredibly honest about the necessity of doing “dirty work” (side jobs) to fund their anti-capitalist creative dreams. Their philosophy—“You don’t have to make money; you just have to have enough money”—shifted my perspective on financial success.

SM-LL operates as a radical collective that challenges traditional artist-label profit motives. To them, success is the freedom to release vinyl with no markings, forcing the audience to return to the sound itself without the influence of branding. They admitted that in the early days, they would play shows for free just for the exposure, but now they carefully weigh the resources of an event before committing. This radical honesty about living costs in London and the reality of home-studios provided a sobering yet empowering roadmap for my own survival as a graduate.

A major turning point in my practice was joining the HEM Records community (https://www.hem.fm/en/) in 2025. In the BA Sound Arts course, we are encouraged to break rules and explore conceptual freedom. However, I found that “unlimited freedom” can sometimes lead to a technical vacuum. My experience at HEM provided the necessary friction.

For my debut IDM single, I had to revise the lead synth and mixing over ten times to meet their industrial audit standards. This “professional pressure” was vital. It taught me that sound art is not just about a high-brow concept; it requires rigorous technical discipline to be communicated effectively. This influence has helped me bridge the gap between academic speculation and the professional music industry. I am no longer just a student “trying out” Ableton; I am a producer understanding the workflow of global distribution, A&R audits, and sonic precision.

My future aspiration is to become a “Total Creator”—a multidisciplinary practitioner who controls every aspect of music, visual concept, and cultural narrative. I am deeply inspired by figures like Min Hee-jin (the creative force behind NewJeans） and the aesthetics and concept of XG; however, I want to distance myself from hyper-commercialized “Idol” structures. Instead, I aim to use professional music production to package deep anthropological research.

This vision has been shaped by my upcoming transition to UCL for an MA in Digital Anthropology. I want to continue my research into East Asian social dynamics, specifically the structural issues within households and the “Tu Hai” (low-fi) internet subcultures. My goal is to produce works that are visually polished like a pop production but intellectually grounded in ethnographic study. I want to reclaim the right to be “out of focus” and “failed” through my art, moving beyond the BA Sound Arts bubble into a space where subcultural critique meets professional execution.

I would Love to engage in this open call but missed the deadline.