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Before joining X Museum as director in 2024, You Yang had nearly two decades of experience working at art institutions. He is best known for his tenure at UCCA, where he served as art director of UCCA Group, as well as deputy director and chair of the Labor Union at the UCCA Center for Contemporary Art.

As a curator, his work centers on theories of the contemporary museum, with a particular focus on the intersections of urban development and consumer culture. His practice spans cross-disciplinary research initiatives, public art projects, and collaborations with government partners. He is also a prolific writer and editor, with an extensive record of publications.

Throughout his career, You Yang has closely observed and actively participated in the development of China’s private museum sector, which began in the early 1990s and continues to the present. In the interview below, he discussed his time in the art field—and where it might be going.

We’ve recently seen a wave of new art museums announced by major tech companies in Shenzhen and the Greater Bay Area, which includes Hong Kong. Do you see a structural reason behind this? What’s your take on the current ecology of the region?

As China’s cities progress socially and economically, the cultural ecosystem needs to diversify beyond the traditionally dominant centers of Beijing and Shanghai. Cities like Shenyang, Xi’an, and Lhasa are also showing momentum in developing cultural spaces. As society enters a new stage, new types of institutions naturally emerge—not only to meet shifting supply and demand, but also to actively express changing social dynamics.

There are several possible reasons behind the current “museum boom” in the Greater Bay Area.

First, Shenzhen’s strategy to boost cultural productivity has evolved, from building public facilities to now encouraging private enterprises to create cultural spaces. This shift mobilizes both capital and creativity. Many of the city’s key art institutions already involve corporate partners, and Shenzhen has effectively piloted public-private partnership (PPP) and build-operate-transfer (BOT) models.

Second, Shenzhen has long had a strong cultural foundation, thanks to its universities, artists, and art media. As a special economic zone, it naturally attracts and cultivates distinct forms of cultural expression.

Third, the Greater Bay Area has historically been a hub for cross-cultural exchange and a cornerstone of modern Chinese art history. Yet despite its openness and rich resources, the urban core still lacks contemporary institutions that match its rapid growth, leaving ample room for future development.

“Zhilan: A Glance in Urban Garden” at the Pool by X Museum in Shanghai, 2024.

What are some of the most significant changes you’ve observed in the Asian art ecosystem over the past few years?

One shift I’ve noticed is how people are starting to talk less about the “art ecosystem” and more about the “art market.” It’s a subtle change, but it signals broader curiosity—about which Asian cities are opening new fairs or mega-galleries (often styled like Apple stores), and how collectors are shaping narratives around lifestyle and taste.

Inside China’s art academies, reforms are happening, too. Guangzhou is rethinking general education, while CAFA is pushing a “grand art” visio—an institutional framework that seeks to break down boundaries between fine art, design, craft, and public art. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Education is working on a localized evaluation system, which could quietly reshape how future artists and curators are trained.

At the same time, practical pressures have led media and institutions to spotlight more commercially viable artists. This leaves those working in conceptual or less market-friendly modes struggling for support. But there are bright spots—especially in grassroots initiatives. When institutions can’t keep up, alternative venues and even social media help fill the gaps. These flexible, hybrid platforms are reshaping how art is made and experienced, often in more open and dynamic ways.

Beyond China, we’re seeing more institutional growth and cultural exports across Asia, though the deeper stories often need more local engagement to fully take hold. One thing that excites me is the rise in regional gatherings—they’re building bridges across very different ideological and cultural contexts. Asia isn’t a monolith, and these exchanges, even when messy, are where the most interesting things can happen.

Ironically, the art market might be the only place where ideology gets temporarily suspended—translating divergent worldviews into commodities that move across borders. It’s a strange but fascinating dynamic.

“Li Jinghu: I Am Here! Witness of a City and 200 Million People,” X Museum, 2025

What are some of the key gaps or missing elements in Asia’s current art ecosystem?

It’s been a while since we’ve seen a truly pan-Asian professional gathering in the art world. Every time I travel to places like Tokyo or Seoul, I’m struck by the mutual respect and curiosity across the region. There’s clearly a desire to connect more deeply, especially beyond just the market. If someone built a targeted network to foster that kind of collaboration, it could be transformative. And thanks to tech, working across timezones and languages is more doable than ever.

On the national level, of course, each place has its own internal questions. In China, for instance, we’re still trying to clarify the foundation of the contemporary art ecosystem. Could we develop baseline exhibitions that tell the story of contemporary Chinese art—from both institutional and independent angles? How does this fit within broader cultural narratives, nationally or regionally?

From a policy perspective, we might ask: Is it time to create a management framework for private museums, similar to what exists for public ones? And in terms of discourse, how can we strengthen independent criticism and provide more concrete support for conceptual artists?

Without more stable foundations, it’s easy for the system to reward short-term opportunism over long-term commitment. And when institutions fall short, they may tell others to hang in there—while quietly planning their own exit.

What’s the biggest misunderstanding Western art institutions have about Asia?

Misreadings are part of any cross-cultural exchange. What matters is staying clear and open—because we misread the West too, just as the West often projects imagined versions of Asia.

In the 1990s, Chinese artists responded to this with clever strategies like the “spring roll” metaphor—self-aware, self-mocking gestures that acknowledged how Western curators often reduced Chinese art to easily digestible political stereotypes, yet still helped them break into the global art world. Back in the 18th century, France’s “Chinoiserie” craze also produced new aesthetics, even if based on fantasy. Misunderstandings aren’t always a bad thing.

Today, some Asian artists engage with Western issues to tap into its symbolic capital. It’s a kind of mimicry that makes sense in an evolving system.

Museums shouldn’t be afraid of these misreadings. In fact, putting them on display can open up meaningful public dialogue. That’s where real exchange begins.