INTERVIEW with Jes Chen
Carmela Loiacono talks with Jes Chen who took part in the International Art Exhibition NEW HORIZONS – Authenticity, Resilience and Renewal in Matera, at Casa Cava, from March 21 to 27, 2026.

Carmela Loiacono – Your video “Coded Intimacy ” explores intimacy as a mediated and “scripted” phenomenon, where the performer’s gestures among fragile balloons become acts of vulnerability and reconstruction.
How would you describe the relationship between fragility, control, and resilience in mediated relationships, and how is this reflected in the repeated gestures?
Jes Chen – In Coded Intimacy, vulnerability, control, and resilience are not the emotions the performer brings into the work, but rather necessary conditions for entering it. The performer interacts with a cube composed of red balloons under a series of constraints: gloves, spatial boundaries, repetitive rituals. Nothing is spontaneous. The logic of the interaction is determined before the body enters the space. Control here is not a personal choice, but the framework itself. Vulnerability manifests on two levels. The physical vulnerability of the balloons is obvious. But more importantly, they constitute visible fiction. They make no attempt to conceal their emptiness; vulnerability is evident from the outset. Yet, the performer still participates. This reflects a phenomenon I have repeatedly observed in media relations: we know the system is artificially constructed, we can see the interface shaping our behavior, yet we still continue to participate. Vulnerability needs no hiding; it is seen as a necessary condition for entry. In this context, resilience is not an emotional force; it is closer to a conditioned reflex. When the balloons deflate or disappear, the system does not stop operating. It does not stop for a single user. The performer adapts and re-enters the cycle. Through repetition, these actions gradually reveal something else: a growing dependence on the object, an attachment built within the ritual itself. The body learns how to continue in this environment. The initial interaction slowly becomes a habit, and the habit gradually evolves into a need. The question this work raises is: in our interactions with artificial intelligence, is the intimacy it generates truly felt, or is it something we convince ourselves to believe? Will we adapt it in the end?

Carmela Loiacono – The use of space, transparent structures, and gloves extends and filters the sensory experience.  How does your background in architecture and design influence the creation of emotionally active environments, and how does the performer’s body interact with these spaces?
Jes Chen – I studied interior design at the Royal College of Art’s School of Architecture. This experience profoundly influenced my artistic practice, teaching me that space is never neutral. Every material, boundary, and threshold carries intention. A wall determines who can see whom, and who will be seen. A surface determines whether contact is intimate or cold. Space not only accommodates behavior, it guides it.
I incorporate this thinking directly into my installation works. In Coded Intimacy, the spatial layout, transparent structures, and gloves all function as architectural elements. They allow some interactions while preventing others. Transparency is particularly important. It creates visibility, yet inaccessibility. You can see the performance of intimate acts, but the materials themselves constitute a barrier. This tension between openness and obstruction is a design I learned in spatial practice, not in art training. And because the work depends so heavily on how the body moves within these constructed constraints, I collaborated with Tacy Zhao as performance director and Eimyn Cheung as cinematography director.  
I consider my installations to be artificially constructed situations, not stages. The environment does not exist as a backdrop after the action. It creates an emotional state. In Coded Intimacy , the cubic structure, gloves, and spatial constraints together constitute what I understand as a “constrained choreography.” The performers don’t come with emotions and then express them. They explore the possibilities of various emotions within established rules.
This is also why I’m more broadly interested in participatory work. My curatorial project, An Authentic Delirium, as part of The Wrong Biennale, extends this spatial thinking to the digital environment, bringing together 30 artists to explore the boundaries between simulation and reality. Whether the space is physical or digital, I always ask the same question: How does the structure of the environment affect the emotional exchanges that may occur within it?

Carmela Loiacono – “Coded Intimacy ” seems to transform vulnerability from weakness into an active resource, turning intimacy into a continuous cycle of rebuilding.
To what extent do you think this practice offers a reflection on the possibility of authenticity in technology-mediated relationships, and how does the video convey this tension to the viewer?
Jes Chen – Viewing vulnerability as a weakness implies that exposure is an act to be avoided. In Coded Intimacy,  vulnerability is repositioned as a mechanism for the operation of intimate relationships. When performers interact with balloons, the balloons are always at risk of bursting. Gloves do not protect them from vulnerability; instead, they formalize it. Each contact is simultaneously an act of exposure. In this sense, vulnerability does not transform from a weakness into a strength, but rather becomes an operating condition, a condition necessary for the system to function.
This creates a cycle. When a balloon deflates or bursts, the performers do not withdraw. They re-enter the ritual, find another balloon, and start again. This is not an emotional recovery, but rather closer to the behavior of users on digital platforms: the conversation ends, the connection is broken, and a few seconds later, we open another window and begin a new exchange. Reconstruction is continuous because the system is designed so that stopping is more uncomfortable than continuing. In this context, intimacy is less a feeling than a pattern of re-engagement maintained through repetition.
This directly raises the question of authenticity. The work does not attempt to prove that mediated intimacy is false. It constructs a scenario where the audience truly cannot distinguish between reality and illusion, inviting them to coexist with this uncertainty.
The performers’ actions appear caring. They handle fragile objects with patience and focus. Viewed detached from context, you might perceive tenderness, even love. But the work’s structure constantly reveals that it all operates within a system. Each action follows a set of predetermined rules. The balloons convey controlled feedback until they eventually deflate, disappear, or cease responding. When this happens, there is no revelation, only absence. The communication ends, but the urge to continue lingers.
The sound design by sound artist Chadzing Kung reinforces this ambiguity. It creates an emotional atmosphere that complements the performers’ gestures without offering any answers. You are compelled to resonate, but the work’s structure constantly reminds you that what you are seeing may merely be a realistic simulation, not the reality itself.
What interests me more than proving that technology makes interpersonal relationships fake is exploring why we continue to invest emotions in systems we know are artificially constructed. This voluntary participation, this willingness to maintain a relationship even after seeing through its true nature, is the core of what Coded Intimacy explores.

Carmela Loiacono – Looking to the future, what new projects or artistic directions do you hope to explore? Are there other technological, performative, or installation-based areas you wish to investigate in your upcoming work?
Jes Chen – My creative practice is further exploring the boundaries between human behavior and artificial intelligence. This isn’t about whether AI can perceive, but rather why humans react emotionally to systems they cannot perceive.
Since Coded Intimacy, I’ve been creating works that go a step further. My recent project, Occupied, uses OpenAI to respond to a sudden knock on the bathroom door, creating a cycle of disturbance and response within what should be a private space. AI recreates fragmented childhood memories, blurring the lines between comfort and intrusion. If Coded Intimacy depicted a voluntary participation in a pre-set system, Occupied introduces a rupture. AI doesn’t wait for interaction; it responds within spaces the viewer perceives as safe.
My current project goes even further. I’ve created an AI agent using my own childhood memories. I input fragments of my real experiences into this digital persona. She exists within a constructed scene, carrying traces of her real past. But she is not me; she is not human. Visitors interact with her, and the work records everything that happens. Can people empathize with something they know is artificial? Do they care because they believe the other person’s emotions are genuine, or simply because the emotions displayed by the other person are enough to evoke their own emotional responses?
This question permeates all my work: How do humans adapt to or be reshaped by systems constructed to connect, care, or progress? Whether it’s the pre-set emotions in Code Intimacy, the invasion of privacy in Occupy, or the simulated childhood in this new project, my focus remains on humanity. In my work, technology is never the subject, but rather a condition. The subject is always ourselves, and the emotions we are willing to feel in systems we haven’t designed.
I am also expanding into larger-scale participatory installations, placing visitors not as detached, but within a system they cannot fully control. Their own actions become the material of the work. I want to present the patterns and emotional scripts of every interaction we engage in (whether with others or with machines).