Jiani Wang
APRIL 30, 2025
Why did you decide to co-found :iidrr Mag, in a time when content by texts has become increasingly replaced by all kinds of images and moving images?
Both Shuwan and I grew up in a time when magazines, newspapers, and paper books were the primary sources of ideas, information, and mental nourishment. They’ve always been our food for thought—from our childhood and teenage years in China, to the countries we later migrated to for higher education and work. We've always carried a strong, nostalgic affection for magazines. We long to these thin paper bricks, and we rely on them for daily joy.
One day during a hangout, we started talking about our favorite magazines throughout our lives. I can’t remember who first said, “How wonderful would it be if we could make our own little magazine?”—but the other immediately agreed. And just like that, :iidrr Mag was born. And our friend Yiwei joined in a later time.
I guess you’re partially right, there have been an increasing amount of images and moving images created and circulated in our society and they have become dominant mediums, just like text. But our magazine is not just a literary magazine, it also showcases compelling visuals created by talented artists. To us, it’s not about comparing the importance of text versus image—it’s about the difference between good and bad content. And we do our best to curate and create the good ones.
Both Shuwan and I grew up in a time when magazines, newspapers, and paper books were the primary sources of ideas, information, and mental nourishment. They’ve always been our food for thought—from our childhood and teenage years in China, to the countries we later migrated to for higher education and work. We've always carried a strong, nostalgic affection for magazines. We long to these thin paper bricks, and we rely on them for daily joy.
One day during a hangout, we started talking about our favorite magazines throughout our lives. I can’t remember who first said, “How wonderful would it be if we could make our own little magazine?”—but the other immediately agreed. And just like that, :iidrr Mag was born. And our friend Yiwei joined in a later time.
I guess you’re partially right, there have been an increasing amount of images and moving images created and circulated in our society and they have become dominant mediums, just like text. But our magazine is not just a literary magazine, it also showcases compelling visuals created by talented artists. To us, it’s not about comparing the importance of text versus image—it’s about the difference between good and bad content. And we do our best to curate and create the good ones.
There are already many print and online platforms—especially in New York—that focus on the art scene and artistic practices. What makes :iidrr Mag different?
Indeed, there are many mature and well-established platforms, but access to them can be limited. We wanted to showcase the work of emerging, underexposed artists, and to collaborate with writers whose voices deserve to be heard but haven’t yet found the right platform. Ultimately, we welcome all kinds of collaborative ideas—as long as they excite us.
What are your personal experiences, and how do they inform your role at :iidrr Mag?
Apart from working as editor-in-chief and writer for :iidrr Mag, I’m also a bilingual freelance writer contributing to various Chinese and English publications. As a documentary filmmaker, I particularly enjoy capturing artists in their studios and documenting their creative trajectories. All these experiences nourish and supplement each other.
What’s your perspective on the future of :iidrr Mag?
I hope it can always stay as sincere, honest, and fun as it is now—maybe even more and more fun:).
You’ve worked across so many formats—writing, photography, film, installations. Do they feel like branches of one larger practice, or do they each speak to a different part of you?
I feel both. I create primarily out of an urge to express, to exchange ideas—to throw out a thought and see what comes back. It’s the way I communicate with the world, and the way I stay alive.
Whenever I come up with an idea or concept that I want to turn into a project or a piece of work, the first thing I consider is: what’s the most appropriate medium for this idea to exist in the world? Most of the time, the decision comes intuitively.
Your academic background spans politics, sociology, urban design, and visual media. How does that multidisciplinary lens shape how you approach art—both your own and others’?
A friend once commented on something I said about a film—she thought I was watching it through “a sociological lens.” I hadn’t noticed it myself, but I suppose I do carry that perspective unconsciously. I tend to understand a work—especially a film—within the broader social or political context in which it was made or rooted. I also find myself particularly sensitive to topics like material culture, land, space, cultural geography, urban justice, and architecture—perhaps because I’m more familiar with the discourses that surround them.
My first major artwork, Houchang Village, A Bubble City, exhibited at the Goethe-Institut China, grew out of fieldwork in a region of Beijing that had undergone rapid land development by some of China’s largest IT corporations. I benefited tremendously from my previous academic training while conducting research there.
But now, six years after graduation, I can also recognize how my interests have shifted over time—toward themes such as gender, identity politics, and intimacy, which weren’t my focus My work has always mirrored both my intellectual interests and my state of mind at a particular moment in time. I feel that I’m constantly evolving, and I’ve become better at recognizing my own transformations.
There’s a quiet structural tension in your work—between the built world and the bodies that move through it. Are you trying to reconcile the two, or hold them in contrast?
Thanks for asking! That’s a very thoughtful observation, and I’m so glad you noticed my particular interest in the dynamic between space and the body. I don’t consciously try to create tension or to reconcile them—instead, I tend to present this relationship from an observational perspective. I’m addicted to thinking about how individuals navigate the broader society and space—physically, spatially, and conceptually—both as a maker and a viewer.
You’ve described :iidrr Mag as a home for underexposed artists and overlooked voices. What makes a piece of work or a story stand out to you? What do you find yourself magnetized toward?
Honest, original, provocative, responsible, good work.
You’re constantly shifting between roles—editor, writer, director, producer. How does authorship shift across those contexts for you, or does it matter less than the act of making something happen?
I only really think about the roles when I have to put a credit on something.
How do you navigate the balance between your own creative work and your editorial responsibilities at :iidrr? Do the two ever pull at each other—or do they feed one another?
Definitely feed each other. I use different parts of my brain to do different works.
You’ve worked between China and New York, in institutions and indie scenes. How do those cultural and geographic shifts show up in your work—whether intentionally or through intuition?
My feelings and emotions are very geographically sensitive and deeply attached to place. I’m heavily influenced by concepts from cultural and sociological geography—such as “placeness” in Yi-Fu Tuan’s Space and Place, “non-place” in Marc Augé’s Non-Places, and writings by the Situationists. So I suppose I’m always contextualizing and conceptualizing the places I encounter, whether it's as vast as a city or as fleeting as a train station.
You co-founded :iidrr Mag at a moment when everyone is overwhelmed with “content.” What do you think small, artist-run platforms can offer that bigger ones often can’t?
Less hierarchy. More open and equal opportunities for emerging artists. More freedom and agency over the content.
What’s something that’s surprised you—or even changed your mind—while running :iidrr Mag or working on a recent project?
What surprised me the most was how much generous support, encouragement, and love you can receive from readers, friends, or even complete strangers. So I persuade myself everyday not be afraid to speak up and ask for help and support. But also to give the love and support back to the community.
Is there a question—or contradiction—you find yourself returning to, whether in writing, image-making, or editing?
Emotions. I need to see and feel real emotions in a piece of work, in order to fall in love with it.
Whenever I come up with an idea or concept that I want to turn into a project or a piece of work, the first thing I consider is: what’s the most appropriate medium for this idea to exist in the world? Most of the time, the decision comes intuitively.
Your academic background spans politics, sociology, urban design, and visual media. How does that multidisciplinary lens shape how you approach art—both your own and others’?
A friend once commented on something I said about a film—she thought I was watching it through “a sociological lens.” I hadn’t noticed it myself, but I suppose I do carry that perspective unconsciously. I tend to understand a work—especially a film—within the broader social or political context in which it was made or rooted. I also find myself particularly sensitive to topics like material culture, land, space, cultural geography, urban justice, and architecture—perhaps because I’m more familiar with the discourses that surround them.
My first major artwork, Houchang Village, A Bubble City, exhibited at the Goethe-Institut China, grew out of fieldwork in a region of Beijing that had undergone rapid land development by some of China’s largest IT corporations. I benefited tremendously from my previous academic training while conducting research there.
But now, six years after graduation, I can also recognize how my interests have shifted over time—toward themes such as gender, identity politics, and intimacy, which weren’t my focus My work has always mirrored both my intellectual interests and my state of mind at a particular moment in time. I feel that I’m constantly evolving, and I’ve become better at recognizing my own transformations.
There’s a quiet structural tension in your work—between the built world and the bodies that move through it. Are you trying to reconcile the two, or hold them in contrast?
Thanks for asking! That’s a very thoughtful observation, and I’m so glad you noticed my particular interest in the dynamic between space and the body. I don’t consciously try to create tension or to reconcile them—instead, I tend to present this relationship from an observational perspective. I’m addicted to thinking about how individuals navigate the broader society and space—physically, spatially, and conceptually—both as a maker and a viewer.
You’ve described :iidrr Mag as a home for underexposed artists and overlooked voices. What makes a piece of work or a story stand out to you? What do you find yourself magnetized toward?
Honest, original, provocative, responsible, good work.
You’re constantly shifting between roles—editor, writer, director, producer. How does authorship shift across those contexts for you, or does it matter less than the act of making something happen?
I only really think about the roles when I have to put a credit on something.
How do you navigate the balance between your own creative work and your editorial responsibilities at :iidrr? Do the two ever pull at each other—or do they feed one another?
Definitely feed each other. I use different parts of my brain to do different works.
You’ve worked between China and New York, in institutions and indie scenes. How do those cultural and geographic shifts show up in your work—whether intentionally or through intuition?
My feelings and emotions are very geographically sensitive and deeply attached to place. I’m heavily influenced by concepts from cultural and sociological geography—such as “placeness” in Yi-Fu Tuan’s Space and Place, “non-place” in Marc Augé’s Non-Places, and writings by the Situationists. So I suppose I’m always contextualizing and conceptualizing the places I encounter, whether it's as vast as a city or as fleeting as a train station.
You co-founded :iidrr Mag at a moment when everyone is overwhelmed with “content.” What do you think small, artist-run platforms can offer that bigger ones often can’t?
Less hierarchy. More open and equal opportunities for emerging artists. More freedom and agency over the content.
What’s something that’s surprised you—or even changed your mind—while running :iidrr Mag or working on a recent project?
What surprised me the most was how much generous support, encouragement, and love you can receive from readers, friends, or even complete strangers. So I persuade myself everyday not be afraid to speak up and ask for help and support. But also to give the love and support back to the community.
Is there a question—or contradiction—you find yourself returning to, whether in writing, image-making, or editing?
Emotions. I need to see and feel real emotions in a piece of work, in order to fall in love with it.