5 Questions with Lindy Lee
Over four decades, Lindy Lee has established herself as one of Australia’s most influential and respected contemporary artists with a practice that explores her Chinese heritage through the philosophies of Taoism and Buddhism—principles which emphasise humanity’s intimate and inextricable relationship to nature.
Her work investigates the interdependence between spirit and matter, often employing elements of chance to produce works that embody this profound connection with the cosmos.
(Image courtesy of Pallion)
No.1
In a longform interview with Soo-Min Shim we published in Liminal in 2021, you’ve said that ‘my work has developed in tandem with Australia recognising its multiculturalism’. I wonder if you can speak to this in relation to Silence of the Elemental, especially considering renewed right-wing elements in Australia in this moment?
In that interview I was reflecting on how Australia understands itself and how that has shifted since my upbringing in the time of the White Australia Policy. My sense of Australia now, the spirit of contemporary Australia, is that it is rooted in multiculturalism—Australia’s cultural diversity finds nourishment through a sense of ‘country’ and place richly inspired by First Nations foundations, something only acknowledged in recent times.
In The Silence of the Elemental, the silence I am talking about is the quietening of the critical preconditioned voice, a voice that pre-judges and assumes a position. Silence, in this sense, is a return to primary experience, an intimate connection to all that exists. This is an experience that I have learnt and practiced through decades of meditation and artistic practice. Silence stills the critical, sometimes overanalytical voice within us that creates separation. From stillness and quiet comes a deep connection to the cosmos, which is our birthright. It is not about being right-wing or left-wing. It is about being human, feeling your humanity, and recognising your connection to others.
No.2
Your art is so recognisable in that it manages to exude grandeur while having a sense of quietude to them, which may be interpreted as what it means to hide in plain sight. What is your relationship to concealment and visibility?
This is an interesting interpretation because for me there is no concealment. In the 1990s, I began practicing flinging ink, an ancient practice rooted in Zen Buddhism and Chinese calligraphy. After meditating, I splashed ink over prints and paintings to try and express the fullness of the universe in each moment. So actually, I am trying to make the truth of the interconnection of all things, visible. It is not about hiding but about becoming still enough to notice and quell the inner critical voice that separates us from each other and from the world.
That spirit and intention is still present in my work and can be seen throughout this show. By splashing ink, pouring bronze, or waiting for rain to pool on the inked surface of paper, I am trying to mirror the immediacy of everything in the cosmos occurring all at once, in a single moment. These actions allow me to experience an intimate connection with something greater than myself, and to be aware of it and open to it. That sense of grandeur lives both in the tiniest moments and in the expansiveness of the heart.
No.3
I note that you’ve also invited two younger and emerging artists to exhibit with you alongside this solo show. Your mentees, Angie Pai and Jingwei Bu, were asked to exhibit for a show titled Latent Trace, also at Sullivan and Strumpf. What types of conversations have you had regarding intergenerational collaboration, particularly in an Asian Australian context?
Alongside my creative practice, I also spent many years teaching at Sydney College of the Arts and mentoring young artists. Growing up in 1960s and 70s Australia, I had no examples of women artists to follow, and certainly not Asian artists. Because of that absence, I have always felt a strong responsibility to support and nurture emerging artists whenever I’m in a position to do so.
Angie and Jingwei are two wonderful examples. In both cases, they were awarded mentorships through Diversity Arts and Guildhouse Adelaide respectively, and chose me as their mentor. With each of them, I have had rich and meaningful discussions about our shared ancestry, our differences in how we grew up in Australia, and what has formed us. Our experiences as different generations of Asian women in Australia has many similarities and differences.
No.4
Relatedly, what wisdom would you share with younger Asian Australian artists out there?
This question is asked of me a lot, and after decades of practice I know deeply that the hardest thing is having the courage to be yourself. To step fully into who you are. It sounds simple, but in truth, it is the most difficult task in the world. The only advice I have for any artist is this: they must thoroughly and squarely become themselves. That means acknowledging where you come from, understanding what you care about, and being clear about why you want to pursue this strange and difficult path called art. Then you have to own it. Even in the face of self-doubt, imposter syndrome, or a lack of confidence, you still have to claim the desire to be an artist and commit to being yourself.
No.5
I’ve been asking this to elder artists I respect, and so I will ask you the same: do you ever think of a legacy? How does that word make you feel?
Now in my 70s, I find myself thinking more about legacy, because I am aware that this life has an end. I’ve become more reflective about one’s contribution and what we leave behind. Legacy matters, if only for the simple reason that, when I was coming up, there were no Asian women artists in my world. Part of my legacy is to show that it is possible, because at the time, the idea was considered absurd. Legacy is important but it is not about the legacy of my ego, but an example of a path that people may choose to follow.
(Lindy Lee, Echos of Shattered Light, 2025, flung bronze, 150 x 250 cm.
Image courtesy the artist and Sullivan+Strumpf. Photo: Phillip Huynh)
Find out more
Sullivan+Strumpf presents Lindy Lee’s new exhibition, The Silence of the Elemental, which explores identity, impermanence, and the cosmos through contemplative, luminous forms.
Silence—an anchor in the swirling sea of thoughts, a quiet foundation at the heart of Zen practice. In its stillness, the mind sheds its layers of constructed identity—the stories, judgments, and expectations that bind us to a false sense of self. Here, in the spaciousness of silence, thought releases its grip. We are free, unburdened by the weight of analysis, open to life as it is, unfiltered by our usual lens of preconception. This silence—sometimes called Noble Silence—creates a sacred pause between thought and action. In that pause, we touch something deeper. The mind expands beyond the limits of language and concept. We meet the present moment as it truly is, and in this meeting, we find a profound sense of connection—an intimacy with the invisible forces that breathe life into our being. There, in that communion, we glimpse a deeper understanding of both the world and our place within it.
The Silence of the Elemental runs from 15 May 2025 – 14 June 2025 at Sullivan+Strumpf. More info here.