a practice close to the ground
The creative process of artist Jasmin Sian, whose intricate works are now hanging Whitney Biennialit often starts outside among the weeds and squirrels. In a recent conversation after a bike ride on New York’s Randall’s Island, she laughed about her procedure’s inglorious attitude.
‘When people see me, I always crawl around the ground,‘ he tells us. It is far removed from the romantic image of plein air painting, and closer in spirit to the tiny animals poking their noses through the flowers. This picture says a lot about it offering spirit of her work. Her designs and cut paper the pieces come from paying close attention to small lives and pieces of plant growth that many people go through.
At Whitney, her materials carry the same logic. Found deli bags become surfaces for gouache, lacquer ink, graphite and cut-outs, with these animals and plants framed by lace-like borders cut by hand with an X-Acto knife.
installation view, Jasmin Sian, Whitney Biennial 2026. image © designboom
the found paper becomes medium
Its scale artist Jasmin Sian’s work is intimate. One work — Dovecote: A Tree Pee in Bugoy and Mrs. Manok’s Favorite Spot in Mom’s Garden in the Philippines — measures just 3 ⁵∕₈ by 5 3/4 inches and shows a small field of finely cut paper densely packed with care. Within these incised motifs are rendered living beings which in some cases function as monuments and other protective dwellings.
This paper, which would otherwise be waste, gives Sian a structure to think about. She likes its texture, its wrinkles, the way the folds can become a guide and how easy it is to cut. The folds help her map out the composition, almost like a terrain in the hand where direction, edge and distance can be found through touch.
installation view, Jasmin Sian, Whitney Biennial 2026. image © designboom
the strangeness of looking up close
For Jasmin Sian, looking closely has very little to do with illustration in a conventional sense. It’s a way of letting the world get weird again. ‘Things in nature, you can’t make them,,” he says, while sifting through a piece of purple Siberian Skill. ‘It is stranger in fact than anything we could ever invent.‘
Flowers, weeds, leaves and small animals arrive in her pieces with this sense of wonder. The artist studies where a petal sits, how many petals make up a bloom, how light changes the shape of a plant. He follows the logic of a living form and then builds a paper architecture around it through cutting and painting.
Jasmin Sian, ‘if I had a little zoo’, 2013. image courtesy of Anthony Meier
graphite, ink and gouache drawing
Jasmin Sian’s process moves between graphite, ink, gouache and cutting. Areas drawn with graphite may later become inked. Painted passages cluster around previous signs. Cutwork comes in once the larger space begins to reveal itself. Often, he starts with plant designs, then figures out how everything will fit together.
There is patience in this series, along with some confidence in the material. In a moment when we sat together in the park, he noted that he just enjoys the designs before deciding where the work will go. This particular piece, he believes, can become the work of sleeping animals. The animal has not yet fully arrived, but the space around it is already being prepared.
Image courtesy of Anthony Meier
art as a contribution
The tenderness in Sian’s work has a practical edge. He talks about art through the idea of a social contract, a responsibility to contribute something back to the world that sustains us. If a person has the ability to do things, he suggests, that ability comes with an obligation to contribute something beyond himself.
For Jasmin Sian, this offering can be small and it can make a difference. If an artist can move a person or give someone a brief moment of joy, he says, that’s meaningful work. Her pieces carry this conviction through their scale and method. They ask for close attention, and then reward it with a sense of protection around lives that often go unnoticed.
Jasmin Sian, ‘wildlife I love: Skippy and Pop in a field of thyme, oregano, clover, chickweed and violets’, 2023. image courtesy of Anthony Meier
