In conversation with artist-in-residence Regina Torres Thompson, we discuss her latest body of work, her research into tantric and early haṭhayoga conceptions of the body, and the questions that continue to inform her practice throughout the residency. Hands-on: Your work challenges the Western tendency to separate body and mind, human and nature, individual and universe. Do you see this project as engaging with contemporary ecological and social questions, or is it primarily an invitation to rethink perception itself? Regina Torres Thompson: I think that speaking about the body is already political. Every culture understands the body differently, and those understandings shape how we relate to ourselves, to others, and to the world. By working with tantric traditions, I’m not trying to oppose a Western perspective, but rather to bring another way of understanding embodiment into the conversation. For me, this project is first and foremost an invitation to rethink perception. I’m interested in asking what becomes possible if we approach the body through a different conceptual framework, one in which the body is not separate from the cosmos but continuous with it. At the same time, I don’t think these questions can ever be completely detached from contemporary social or ecological concerns. The way we imagine our relationship to the world inevitably shapes how we live within it. As a Mexican artist living in London, my own experiences of culture, displacement, and identity inevitably inform my practice, even when they are not the explicit subject of the work. Read the full interview here

We spoke with artist-in-residence Farnaz Gholami about her latest body of work, the role of memory and displacement in her practice, and the shifting landscapes that inform her approach to painting. Hands-on: In your paintings, blue skies, clouds, and smoke become almost indistinguishable, suspended between the sublime and the catastrophic. What interests you about this ambiguity? Farnaz Gholami: Before the war, I had already been making a series of paintings centred on the sky and clouds. Across landscapes in South Africa, Tehran and elsewhere, I was interested in the familiarity of the sky as something that exceeds borders, a space that can make us feel connected to different places at once and suggest a shared sense of belonging. Experiencing those same familiar skies interrupted by huge plumes of smoke opened a new chapter in that enquiry. During the first weeks of the bombing, the sky remained incredibly beautiful while smoke rose into it, making it difficult at times to tell where one ended and the other began. The same sky could hold both beauty and catastrophe at once. That experience changed the way I looked at landscape. The paintings emerged from this altered way of seeing. I wasn’t trying to create ambiguity; it was simply the condition through which I was experiencing the landscape. Read the full interview here

Closing the fourth edition of the Hands-on Residency, we spoke with artist-in-residence Seongeun Lee about her latest body of work, the research behind it, and the ideas that inform her practice. Hands-on: Throughout your practice, the column has functioned as a metaphor for existence, while arrangements speak about relationships. How has introducing the idea of aging transformed this vocabulary? Has it changed what a “column” can represent? Seongeun Lee: For me, arrangement is a way of understanding human existence. Human beings do not exist independently but are constantly shaped through relationships with others. The column is the smallest unit of these arrangements and has become my own artistic language. Introducing aging expanded what the column represents. While my earlier work explored how human existence forms relationships, this residency project explores how human existence changes and accumulates through time. In this project, the column becomes a medium that records time. Through rust dyeing, textile absorbs environmental conditions such as humidity, temperature, and air, allowing time itself to become physically embedded in the work. Read the full interview here

On the occasion of the fourth edition of the Hands-on Residency, we interviewed artist-in-residence Jingshan Ding to reflect on her latest body of work, the research behind it, and her creative process. Hands-on: Your paintings bring together footprints, road markings, weathered surfaces, and plant remains - elements we often overlook in everyday life. How has this practice of paying attention to the seemingly insignificant changed the way you experience urban environments? Jingshan Ding: Because I spend much of my time inside the studio, the traces have become an important way for me to remain connected to the world outside it. Looking for animal footprints, road markings, and various plants makes walking in a city feel less like moving between destinations and more like entering a field of ongoing events. I become more aware of how much exists beyond pre-existing visions, such as the hidden movements, biological activities, and accidental contacts. This attention has also made my relationship with cities more specific. Certain surfaces and patterns can only be found in London, while some are only present in Shanghai or Chengdu. The urban environment therefore no longer appears to me as a collection of landmarks or objects, but as an accumulation of intimate experiences and special rhythms. Read the full interview here

As part of the fourth edition of the Hands-on Residency, we spoke with artist-in-residence Ana Benavides about her recent body of work, reflecting on her research, and process. Hands-on: Your residency statement describes a shift from seeking certainty to trusting intuition. Was there a specific moment during the residency when you realised you no longer needed to “understand” your paintings before making them? What changed in your relationship with the work? Ana Benavides: Yes, I think that moment came during one of our first guest speaker talks with Maria Positano. She said that some works are meant to be felt, and that not everything in art needs to be explained. That stayed with me. I realised that I had been carrying the belief that my paintings alone weren’t enough, that I had to justify them with words in order for people to recognise their value. Letting go of that expectation changed my relationship with the work. Instead of trying to arrive at a concept before painting, I began allowing the painting to reveal itself through the process. I stopped asking, “What does this mean?” and started asking, “What is this asking of me?”. That shift created much more freedom, trust, and honesty in the studio. Read the full interview here