Andrew Tseng

Andrew Tseng’s practice is often approached through interpretation, emotional, symbolic, even psychological, yet the way his images come into being is far more practical than those readings might suggest. Drawing, for him, is not necessarily a method of unpacking feelings or resolving internal tensions, but a process rooted in visual problem-solving. Decisions are driven by what an image needs in order to hold together, not only by what it is meant to express.

“I’m a big fan of style,” he says. “Overall, I find it a lot more interesting than naturalistic depictions in art because I feel like it has a lot more personality.”

That preference shapes the recurring presence of figures in his work, but not according to a single logic. While some characters carry narrative or suggestion, others operate more structurally, as elements within an image rather than fully articulated personas. Distortion is not always deployed to communicate something in itself; at times it is simply a response to how an image needs to function. Bodies may be stretched, compressed, or reduced to resolve scale, balance, or rhythm, without those decisions having to carry additional meaning. “I often approach a body as a form that needs to fit within a composition,” he explains. “Sometimes there isn’t that much going on beyond that.”

This approach keeps interpretation open without being prescriptive. Narrative can surface, but it is not engineered or explained in advance. Tseng allows visual decisions to stand on their own, accepting that some elements exist simply because they work. “I try to find a balance between aesthetics and concept,” he says, “but sometimes a body or character looks the way it looks purely for the composition.”

Pushing figuration beyond convention becomes a way to condense ideas rather than uncover truths. Amplification operates like shorthand, allowing something to be suggested without being spelled out. “In certain situations you can package something you want to say in the form of exaggeration,” Tseng notes. “Like a visual metaphor.”

That same stylistic framework has led many viewers to read his work as homoerotic, particularly through its emphasis on physicality, intimacy, and performative masculinity. Tseng is conscious of these interpretations, but they stem less from personal declaration than from the sources he draws on, including animation, caricature, and stylised illustration traditions where bodies are theatrical and deliberately unreal. Meaning arises through form and reference, rather than intent.

Originality, for Tseng, does not always come easily or automatically. Influence is unavoidable and often operates beneath the surface rather than as a conscious choice. Rather than being defined purely by difference, originality emerges through attentiveness, in recognising the difference between absorbing references and reproducing them too directly, while actively developing a visual language with its own internal logic. “If you are inspired, that is a good thing,” he says. “However, I find it important to be aware of when you’re inspired versus when you’re blatantly copying.”

A similar pragmatism applies to commissioned work. Constraints are not seen as creative threats but as conditions that define the task. Ideally, alignment happens before the work begins, with his visual language already suited to the project. “With commissions, I do appreciate having some rules,” he explains. When negotiation does occur, it is usually logistical rather than conceptual.

Across personal and applied projects alike, Tseng’s approach remains consistent. He privileges visual coherence over explanation, construction over confession, and stylistic clarity over naturalism. Rather than asking what an image is supposed to convey, he focuses on whether it holds, and how far it can carry before meaning settles.