Jacqueline Qiu
Speaking with her at CHART Gallery, she describes an early phase of looking closely. Studying artifacts in a museum, learning through proximity rather than instruction. CHART Gallery, a contemporary art space in Tribeca dedicated to conceptually rigorous work and material exploration, is an environment that quietly rewards attention rather than spectacle. The work appears in her first solo exhibition, Burying Flowers, on view at CHART Gallery from January 9 through February 14, 2026.
There was an idea at first, an intention to emulate or relearn something old. But that intention did not survive the loom unchanged.
Sitting with the material, what emerged was different from what had been planned. Instead of forcing the initial idea forward, she began to respect the relationship forming with the medium. When she allowed that shift, when she stopped insisting and started listening, the work no longer felt made. It felt uncovered.
That distinction matters. Making implies control. Uncovering requires attention.
Early on, the process was forgiving. The technique was slow, largely absent from contemporary practice, and free from pressure. Experimentation felt open, even playful. Over time, that freedom changed. As her vocabulary and tools developed, the work began to demand more intention and more restraint. She speaks about having to consciously return to the joy of discovery, to remind herself to listen again rather than direct.
When people stand in front of the work longer than expected, she thinks it is because resolution is delayed. Coming from a representational painting background, her move into textiles opened a relationship with abstraction she had not anticipated. Images appear and dissolve simultaneously. From a distance, there is structure and even a sense of depth. Up close, that structure breaks apart into texture, movement, and detail. The image dissolves into something almost molecular.
What viewers are sensing, she suggests, is instability. The moment when perception shifts faster than understanding. The work asks to be experienced before it can be named.
When I tell her the word that comes to mind for me is meditation, she does not correct it. The work does not insist on interpretation. It invites slower attention, a quiet inward movement that feels personal rather than prescribed.
What remains is not an explanation but a presence. A practice grounded in listening, patience, and trust in what reveals itself when intention gives way.
