Cassidy Chen Yitong
MULTIMEDIA ARTIST & DESIGNERCassidy (Yitong) Chen is a multimedia artist and designer based in NYC. Her work spans sculpture, installations, and video.
Cassidy’s practice explores everyday objects in ways that challenge unspoken expectations, rooted in the long-standing associations we assign to their purpose. She replicates familiar objects using widely recognized shapes, symbols, and dynamics, but disrupts their conventional functions and attributes to create a sense of detachment within everyday contexts. Her work experiments with estrangement, ambiguity, and openness—questioning how representation communicates, associates, and constructs meaning.
Through this intervention in everyday objects, Cassidy seeks to draw attention to the norms and limitations hidden behind the behavioral patterns we take for granted. She believes that creativity and resistance are inherently present in common actions, and her work aims to creatively navigate and challenge established structures.
Cassidy’s practice explores everyday objects in ways that challenge unspoken expectations, rooted in the long-standing associations we assign to their purpose. She replicates familiar objects using widely recognized shapes, symbols, and dynamics, but disrupts their conventional functions and attributes to create a sense of detachment within everyday contexts. Her work experiments with estrangement, ambiguity, and openness—questioning how representation communicates, associates, and constructs meaning.
Through this intervention in everyday objects, Cassidy seeks to draw attention to the norms and limitations hidden behind the behavioral patterns we take for granted. She believes that creativity and resistance are inherently present in common actions, and her work aims to creatively navigate and challenge established structures.
SEP 30, 2025
We're speaking with Cassidy Chen Yitong, an interactive media artist whose work transforms everyday objects into immersive installations that blur the boundaries between the physical and digital worlds. Their practice spans video art, sculpture, and interactive design, creating experiences that invite audiences to reconsider the familiar through new perspectives. Thanks for joining us today.
Let's start with your artistic journey. How did your background in fine art shape your path into interactive installation and product design?
Honestly, I never really thought I would end up doing anything physical. Back in undergrad, I was mostly into experimental video, and I spent a lot of time with tools like visual synthesizers and later TouchDesigner. For a while, I was very comfortable just staying in that two-dimensional space, but after some time, I started to feel a little constrained. Taking a sculpture class in my Junior year was kind of a turning point for me. I suddenly realized how much I was drawn to things that are physical and touchable. Objects carry different perspectives—you can walk around them, touch them, interact with them—and that gave me a kind of excitement I didn't quite get from working only on screens
From there, it felt natural to bring the two together. I started combining video with sculpture, experimenting with projection mapping, and creating installations where moving images were projected onto found objects or structures I built. That back-and-forth between the digital and the physical really opened up new directions for me, and it's what eventually led me into interactive installation.
I'm curious about this move toward physical objects—your projects often reimagine familiar things like lamps, washing machines, or door holders in unexpected ways. What draws you to rethinking the everyday through design?
I am deeply influenced by artists and thinkers such as Dadaists, Hito Steyerl, and Michel de Certeau, whose work engages directly with the everyday. I am particularly interested in the metaphorical potential of daily objects and actions. Something as ordinary as a household item or a familiar gesture can serve as an entry point to reflect on social phenomena, political issues, or forms of resistance against power and structure.
Because these objects and actions are part of our shared experience, they often connect with people immediately, without the need for extensive explanation. I find it powerful when the most mundane materials reveal unexpected possibilities—when the familiar suddenly becomes unfamiliar, sparking a shift in perception. For me, reimagining the everyday is a way to expose the norms and limitations embedded in habitual behavior, while also embracing the idea that creativity and resistance already exist within the most common acts.
When you begin a new project, do you usually start from a concept, a material, or a technology? Can you walk us through how an idea evolves into a finished installation?
I almost always start with a concept. For me, ideas often come as a response to my surroundings, something I notice or feel in daily life. That's why my work has changed over time. What I made during undergrad is very different from what I create now in New York. The environment and pace of life around me often shape how a project begins.
The medium I choose always relates closely to the concept. I try to keep a clear connection between idea and form, so that the experience feels natural to the viewer. Once the idea is clear, I begin sketching and prototyping. Technology has shown me more possibilities in form, but it comes in only when it helps express the concept. For me, it's always a tool, not the core of the work.
The idea of a "finished" work has become increasingly fluid for me, especially since moving to New York. In many cases, "finished" simply means meeting a deadline, not necessarily that the work itself feels complete. I often see my installations as moments of pause within a longer process. Sometimes I need to stop because of space, time, or even money, but the questions I'm exploring usually continue. Prototypes become versions, versions become reconfigurations. Things shift.
So instead of thinking about a linear path toward a final piece, I think more in terms of iterations. The work is finished, for now, but it might live again, somewhere else, in a different form.
Materiality seems important in your practice—whether through sculptural objects, tangible devices, or projections. How do you balance physical presence with digital or virtual layers?
Materiality and virtuality are never fully separated in my practice; instead, I work with their tension and overlap. I'm less interested in balancing them and more in allowing them to interfere with one another. In many of my works, digital projections penetrate physical forms, or physical structures distort and absorb digital content. This friction is intentional. I see it as a way to reflect the condition of contemporary life, where technology is no longer an external layer but something that has gradually reconstructed our perception of the real.
By assembling objects, images, and virtual interfaces, I try to dissolve the boundary between what's real and what's represented. The distortion that arises from the shifting perception between the physical and the digital becomes a way to reveal how saturated and fragmented our experiences have become.
Time-based media and immersion are central to your practice. How do you think about duration, rhythm, and participation when you design an experience?
There's something about the medium itself, its openness, its dependency on presence and time, that allows for a kind of subtle "happening". I don't mean that in a theatrical sense, but rather in how small, unscripted behaviors emerge when someone engages with the work. In that sense, rhythm and participation aren't always designed directly, but instead arise through the moment-to-moment relationship between the piece and the people encountering it.
You mention these unscripted behaviors. What role do you believe the audience plays in completing the artwork?
Let's start with your artistic journey. How did your background in fine art shape your path into interactive installation and product design?
Honestly, I never really thought I would end up doing anything physical. Back in undergrad, I was mostly into experimental video, and I spent a lot of time with tools like visual synthesizers and later TouchDesigner. For a while, I was very comfortable just staying in that two-dimensional space, but after some time, I started to feel a little constrained. Taking a sculpture class in my Junior year was kind of a turning point for me. I suddenly realized how much I was drawn to things that are physical and touchable. Objects carry different perspectives—you can walk around them, touch them, interact with them—and that gave me a kind of excitement I didn't quite get from working only on screens
From there, it felt natural to bring the two together. I started combining video with sculpture, experimenting with projection mapping, and creating installations where moving images were projected onto found objects or structures I built. That back-and-forth between the digital and the physical really opened up new directions for me, and it's what eventually led me into interactive installation.
I'm curious about this move toward physical objects—your projects often reimagine familiar things like lamps, washing machines, or door holders in unexpected ways. What draws you to rethinking the everyday through design?
I am deeply influenced by artists and thinkers such as Dadaists, Hito Steyerl, and Michel de Certeau, whose work engages directly with the everyday. I am particularly interested in the metaphorical potential of daily objects and actions. Something as ordinary as a household item or a familiar gesture can serve as an entry point to reflect on social phenomena, political issues, or forms of resistance against power and structure.
Because these objects and actions are part of our shared experience, they often connect with people immediately, without the need for extensive explanation. I find it powerful when the most mundane materials reveal unexpected possibilities—when the familiar suddenly becomes unfamiliar, sparking a shift in perception. For me, reimagining the everyday is a way to expose the norms and limitations embedded in habitual behavior, while also embracing the idea that creativity and resistance already exist within the most common acts.
When you begin a new project, do you usually start from a concept, a material, or a technology? Can you walk us through how an idea evolves into a finished installation?
I almost always start with a concept. For me, ideas often come as a response to my surroundings, something I notice or feel in daily life. That's why my work has changed over time. What I made during undergrad is very different from what I create now in New York. The environment and pace of life around me often shape how a project begins.
The medium I choose always relates closely to the concept. I try to keep a clear connection between idea and form, so that the experience feels natural to the viewer. Once the idea is clear, I begin sketching and prototyping. Technology has shown me more possibilities in form, but it comes in only when it helps express the concept. For me, it's always a tool, not the core of the work.
The idea of a "finished" work has become increasingly fluid for me, especially since moving to New York. In many cases, "finished" simply means meeting a deadline, not necessarily that the work itself feels complete. I often see my installations as moments of pause within a longer process. Sometimes I need to stop because of space, time, or even money, but the questions I'm exploring usually continue. Prototypes become versions, versions become reconfigurations. Things shift.
So instead of thinking about a linear path toward a final piece, I think more in terms of iterations. The work is finished, for now, but it might live again, somewhere else, in a different form.
Materiality seems important in your practice—whether through sculptural objects, tangible devices, or projections. How do you balance physical presence with digital or virtual layers?
Materiality and virtuality are never fully separated in my practice; instead, I work with their tension and overlap. I'm less interested in balancing them and more in allowing them to interfere with one another. In many of my works, digital projections penetrate physical forms, or physical structures distort and absorb digital content. This friction is intentional. I see it as a way to reflect the condition of contemporary life, where technology is no longer an external layer but something that has gradually reconstructed our perception of the real.
By assembling objects, images, and virtual interfaces, I try to dissolve the boundary between what's real and what's represented. The distortion that arises from the shifting perception between the physical and the digital becomes a way to reveal how saturated and fragmented our experiences have become.
Time-based media and immersion are central to your practice. How do you think about duration, rhythm, and participation when you design an experience?
There's something about the medium itself, its openness, its dependency on presence and time, that allows for a kind of subtle "happening". I don't mean that in a theatrical sense, but rather in how small, unscripted behaviors emerge when someone engages with the work. In that sense, rhythm and participation aren't always designed directly, but instead arise through the moment-to-moment relationship between the piece and the people encountering it.
You mention these unscripted behaviors. What role do you believe the audience plays in completing the artwork?
I've always been drawn to the way Conceptual Art frames the viewer as an essential part of the work. One idea I find especially compelling is that the concept behind the piece only truly emerges when the viewer approaches it physically and intellectually. The concept doesn't just sit inside the object but unfolds in the space between the piece and the person encountering it. From this perspective, the audience isn't simply a receiver in my work; they're a necessary presence. Every act of viewing is a re-creation of the work. The meaning isn't fixed; it's activated, again and again, through different minds, different contexts, and different moments.
I also resonate with the belief that art doesn't always have to be a tangible object. It can be a process, a proposition, or even a behavior. A simple instruction like "Enter a windowless room, turn off the lights, and imagine a storm" might be the artwork itself. It may sound abstract, but when a single line of text is enough to stir thought in someone's mind, that moment becomes a poetic link between the artist and the audience.
I also resonate with the belief that art doesn't always have to be a tangible object. It can be a process, a proposition, or even a behavior. A simple instruction like "Enter a windowless room, turn off the lights, and imagine a storm" might be the artwork itself. It may sound abstract, but when a single line of text is enough to stir thought in someone's mind, that moment becomes a poetic link between the artist and the audience.
You've worked on projects connected to museums and collaborative sites. How do you approach translating history, archives, or scientific knowledge into interactive experiences?
When working with historical or scientific material, I sometimes set intentional constraints for myself. These often come from the project's context, whether it's a need for the experience to be educational or a requirement for the interaction to remain simple and accessible. In collaborative or institutional settings, there are also practical constraints from the client side, such as spatial limitations, or the device needs to last a long time and be easy to maintain.
I personally see archives, history, or scientific knowledge not as static materials to be explained, but as living systems that can be reconstructed and reactivated through design and interaction. Rather than delivering fixed messages, I'm more interested in how to build an immersive experience that allows people to approach that content intuitively. I focus on building immersive experiences that allow people to approach complex ideas intuitively. When the experience feels lived rather than told, the knowledge often resonates more deeply, even if it remains open-ended.
I personally see archives, history, or scientific knowledge not as static materials to be explained, but as living systems that can be reconstructed and reactivated through design and interaction. Rather than delivering fixed messages, I'm more interested in how to build an immersive experience that allows people to approach that content intuitively. I focus on building immersive experiences that allow people to approach complex ideas intuitively. When the experience feels lived rather than told, the knowledge often resonates more deeply, even if it remains open-ended.
Does your approach change much when you're working with institutions versus making more experimental work?
Working across personal and institutional contexts has taught me to shift my approach while still staying close to my core values. In personal projects, I often allow myself to be more playful, ambiguous, or open-ended. There's more room to take risks, follow intuition, or leave things unresolved. In institutional projects, I tend to think more carefully about clarity, accessibility, and how the work functions in a public space. There are practical and conceptual constraints that often shape the outcome. In those cases, I try to design systems that are stable and flexible, even if they sometimes feel less creatively risky.
What stays consistent is that I always start with a concept, and I care about how interaction shapes meaning. Moving between these two worlds keeps me grounded and adaptive and helps me stay balanced between planning and experimentation.
What stays consistent is that I always start with a concept, and I care about how interaction shapes meaning. Moving between these two worlds keeps me grounded and adaptive and helps me stay balanced between planning and experimentation.
What are some influences—artistic, cultural, or technological—that have shaped the way you design interactive systems and artwork?
This question is a great prompt for me to reflect on my creative process. I think all three perspectives, artistic, cultural, and technological, have influenced me more or less.
I'm grateful for the opportunity to study art and to work hands-on with so many different media. Artists like Sarah Sze, Mona Hatoum, and Rebecca Horn have really broadened my vision. Their work showed me how interdisciplinary practices can open up new creative possibilities, and gave me the courage to explore and experiment through making and incorporating knowledge from different disciplines.
Culturally, I was raised in a context where discipline, routine, and collective identity were highly valued. Coming to the U.S. gives me a chance to confront those internalized patterns as an "outsider". The tension between structure and openness, especially as someone who has experienced both, often feels ambiguous. That ambiguity has naturally shaped how I think about systems and interaction.
Technology, as a tool, functions much like a medium—it gives me more possibilities and expands the ways I can express ideas. I didn't come from an engineering background, and I rarely begin with technical solutions. What interests me most is not the complexity of these tools, but how they allow objects or systems to behave differently. I'm not trying to foreground technology, but I'm also not trying to hide it. Instead, I'm interested in how it can reshape relationships between bodies, objects, and space.
I'm grateful for the opportunity to study art and to work hands-on with so many different media. Artists like Sarah Sze, Mona Hatoum, and Rebecca Horn have really broadened my vision. Their work showed me how interdisciplinary practices can open up new creative possibilities, and gave me the courage to explore and experiment through making and incorporating knowledge from different disciplines.
Culturally, I was raised in a context where discipline, routine, and collective identity were highly valued. Coming to the U.S. gives me a chance to confront those internalized patterns as an "outsider". The tension between structure and openness, especially as someone who has experienced both, often feels ambiguous. That ambiguity has naturally shaped how I think about systems and interaction.
Technology, as a tool, functions much like a medium—it gives me more possibilities and expands the ways I can express ideas. I didn't come from an engineering background, and I rarely begin with technical solutions. What interests me most is not the complexity of these tools, but how they allow objects or systems to behave differently. I'm not trying to foreground technology, but I'm also not trying to hide it. Instead, I'm interested in how it can reshape relationships between bodies, objects, and space.
Looking ahead, what directions or environments are you most excited to explore next in your practice?
To be honest, I'm not entirely sure yet, and I think I'm okay with that. There are many things I'm curious about, some I'm already exploring, others I haven't even had the chance to try. I often find that new directions in my practice emerge naturally, shaped by what I'm experiencing in life or what I'm paying attention to at a given moment.