Kimchi Chips and Red Velvet Cake

Zoe Li. Comb Machine: Regulation of Hair (II) 2023. Ming Contemporary Art Gallery, Shanghai.

Gallery Interview - 7 June 2025

DT:

How are you today, Zoe? I thought we'd start out today by having you introduce yourself and your practice.

ZL:

Good.

Hello, I’m Zoe, and I’m here to present my new body of work, which is Comb Machine: Almost Intimate. But the work has a pretty long history. I have iteration one and iteration two.

The first version was at Pratt Institute in New York City, when I did my MFA program. I built all the robots from scratch using very cheap materials like wood and acrylic. And then I used this prototype—iteration one, the first version—to apply for a fellowship in Shanghai. I got the funding, and then created a more professional and sophisticated version in Shanghai, which was exhibited at Ming Contemporary Art Museum, and later in Sydney, we had this idea of remote-controlled combing - it's an interactive version where the audience can come and be combed by the machine—but they’ll later find out that there's actually a human, in Shanghai, controlling the robot to comb their hair via an Apple Vision Pro. The human's combing gesture is identical to the robot arm’s movement, so basically it feels like the human is doing an “overseas combing” on the audience here in Sydney.

DT:

OK, so that’s a specific example of the body of work that you worked on here. But in terms of your own practice, would you say that you’ve always used engineering materials—coding, wires, plastic. What drew you to the materials you're using? They aren't exactly found or inexpensive.

ZL:

Yeah, because I like the context of machines and robots—there’s a lot of history behind these materials. When you use these materials in contemporary art, you add another layer of meaning, concept, and context, especially when the materials are not easy to work with, or not easy to find, or more expensive.

DT:

OK.

Well, with this work—the Comb Machine: Almost Intimate, in particular—why the action of combing? Because initially we talked about hugging, and I was quite happy with that. But the action of combing became the engagement point between human and machine. It was pointed out that there’s a different cultural interpretation of that action between you and me, and I wondered if that was a consideration for you?

ZL:

Yeah. So basically, when I think of combing—in the first and second iterations of the Comb Machine—it’s called Comb Machine: The Regulation of Hair. So combing always seemed like a regulation to me, because I don't usually comb my hair. I have semi-curly hair, and when I comb it, it becomes straight and flat on my scalp. It feels really weird—as if it’s being forced to lie flat. It’s not supposed to be that way. I kind of like the feeling that my hair just... you know, does whatever it wants. I don't want to regulate it. 

And when you have a subject sitting in front of you and you comb their hair, I have the sense that you're making this subject compliant—you want the subject to look like whatever you want them to be.

DT:

I understand. So there's an element of control. When you say regulation, you mean having them comply?

ZL:

Yeah.

DT:

Do you think that this is a larger comment on the social structure of your culture?

ZL:

I wouldn't say so, but it’s very much related to my personal experience.

When I went to my junior school, the school had a lot of rules, and one of them was that girls couldn’t have hair longer than their collars or shoulders. So basically all the girls had bobs haircuts.

When the class bell rang, you’d see a thousand bobs flowing into the classroom. And then when the bell rang again, all the bobs would flow out again, have a little bit of free time, and go back in.

That was actually the image I had when I proposed the first iteration of Comb Machine—three little robots with wigs go to the big comb machine every 10 minutes to be combed, and then they are free for the next 10 minutes. There’s this sense of rules and regulation within this little party. The Comb Machine is basically a taller robot that makes the combing gesture, like a higher power structure. It’s the one that sets the rules, combs the little ones’ hair, and plays the role of authority—regulating them.

DT:

But the little ones are rewarded as well, aren’t they? So there’s a bell that calls them back to the “mother” comber.

ZL:

Yeah. What does it make you feel?

DT:

Well, they do their sitting, they behave, and then they’re free to roam again.

To me, that’s a really interesting dynamic. I think it's one that a lot of women can relate to—that sense of automation, doing your part, and then being allowed to roam free again.

For me, what was really interesting was that when it came to my side of the act of combing, you found it surprising that I was anxious about it. I felt like it was quite an intimate gesture to let you access my hair and my scalp. I thought, “Oh, I don’t know if I really want you looking so closely at my head.” First of all, it’s big, and my hair is a different color from yours—and I have small children, and they go to school, and I was concerned about lice. We had some conversations about this, and you were like, “What are you talking about?”

ZL:

Yeah, I was literally like, “What? I’d never thought about the problem of lice.”

And then I realized it’s a very common issue among kids in Australia.

DT:

Yeah, very common up until around year four or five.

It’s really hard to manage their hair because all the kids are in a small space together, and everyone has different home lives.

It’s not considered a dirty thing—it’s just part of school life, like getting marker on your shirt or scraping your knee. I know that in Canada, if someone has lice, people freak out—burn all the bedsheets, buy a new mattress.

Here, you just treat it with some tea tree oil and send them back.

And I still have British sensibilities—my parents were British, and I was raised that way—so for me, I was like, “You want to look at my scalp? I have to prepare it.”

So now I have this routine. It’s like my own little bell: if I know you’re going to comb my hair, I prepare it. That’s different for me. To me, hair combing is more intimate than a hug.

I’d rather hug you than have you look closely at my scalp, film it, and project it on a screen.

There was also something about my hair color that you liked, wasn’t there?

ZL:

It’s just a very special color to me, because it’s rare for me to see that kind of hair color.

In the earlier version—the regulation one—you can see that everyone in the group has black hair wig. That’s the impression and memory I have: all students in China had black hair.

So your hair color was very interesting to me—it’s ginger.

DT:

Apparently we’re dying out—but I haven’t seen much evidence of that!

I think that contrast—cultural and visual—is really important.

I never saw combing as regulation. For me, it was an intimate act. Only certain people combed my hair growing up—my mother, my sisters.

Now, it’s mostly my sister or sister-in-law—or a hairdresser. I don’t really want people I don’t know looking closely at my head.

And then in the gallery, when people without hair came in and we used the fluffy combs or the fabric ones, it turned into more of a massage. The meaning changed again. It became something else—gentler, even comforting. And you always considered it a basic gesture. You’d say, “We’ll just do this basic thing,” and I was like, “But what about context?”

ZL:

Yeah, we did this study recently at HKUST-GZ, and the students there are bilingual, but most of them are Chinese—born and raised in China. I didn’t feel that they were uncomfortable with the combing. Maybe one or two asked about hygiene—like, “how do you clean the combs”—but most of them just sat down and got their hair combed. They didn’t feel like their boundaries were being crossed. I think they thought of it more like a massage—something comforting.

I don’t think they interpreted it as deeply as you did, in terms of intimacy or personal boundary. Yeah, that’s true. I think for most of them, it felt more like a service—like a massage or maybe even a spa experience. It wasn’t seen as a big deal or invasive. But for you, it really meant something personal. It is very interesting that how differently people can perceive the same gesture.

DT: Exactly. And I feel the same way about massage—I would only let certain people do that. Especially if it’s on my head or neck, I’d rather it be a woman. That’s why having a robot do it was interesting.

ZL: Would you prefer a human doing it, or a robot?

DT: If it’s going to be a human, I’d prefer it to be a woman. For massages at least—for haircuts, I don’t really mind. But since I’ve had kids, I prefer that kind of thing to happen within the family. I cut my girls’ hair because they don’t like the hairdresser. Maybe they got that from me. And it’s also just really expensive to get your hair done in Sydney—like $200, and that’s without coloring!

So, for me, the act of combing or cutting hair has become something intimate—something shared within the family. Even when I teach or curate, I talk about my family a lot. That act of combing is, to me, a family thing.

I promise you, no one in my family would give me a massage though! They’d say, “No way.”

So massage to me is more clinical—something I’d get for a sore back. I don’t enjoy the idea of stripping down and being touched by strangers. It’s not comfortable for me.

(double check)

ZL: What if you had to choose—human or robot?

DT: Honestly, because I knew Yifan (the remote operator) was female, I preferred the robot.

If I hadn’t known the gender, it would depend… But for something like a head or neck massage, I was relieved it was Yifan.

She worked so carefully and patiently for hours, and I think that kind of care—especially being mindful of delays in the technology—really showed.

Maybe it’s a bit sexist, but I think a woman might approach that kind of task with more sensitivity. I’m not sure a man would’ve done it the same way—or even wanted to do it.

Also, she let herself become part of the spectacle. That happened two or three times.

I think a lot of men would’ve been uncomfortable with that kind of exposure.

There was some anonymity, sure, but she was still very present in the performance.

That dynamic between the human and the machine—the point of interface—that’s what really intrigued me.

More than the physical distance, actually. I get why distance matters—people live far apart—but the intimacy of the interface is what stayed with me.

(Redbase Gallery)

DT:

we actually met in a different city. So, you're getting around and traveling a lot. You go to university in Guangzhou, you're here in Sydney. What draws you to travel?

ZL:

I think talking to new people and being in a new environment is a very important part of my practice. Before I came here, neither of us really knew what was going to happen. After I arrived, we started talking and developed what we were going to do. There are a lot of HRI-related professionals here

DT: and I tried my best to introduce you to everybody.

ZL: Yes, you did. I met a lot of people because of you. And after many conversations, we came up with this idea, going back and forth. You remember, the original idea was the hugging robot—and now it’s the combing one, which is already very different.

DT:

To me, combing is much more intimate than a hug. But hugging is harder to do, right? You’d need two robot arms, or maybe just something around the shoulder.

In terms of coming here, you came to the Creative Robotics Lab, which is a university institution, though run by a media artist—Mari Velonaki. I'm her curator there. Do you find any tension between working within academia and creative spaces?

ZL:

Yeah. At school, you're very accessible to a lot of resources—3D printers, the woodshop, the metal shop—and help is easy to get. In a public art gallery, you’re exhibiting the outcomes of your practice, and it's expected to be more sophisticated. The audience expects to see mature artworks, finished pieces.

DT:

Have you done studio production work outside of universities?

ZL:

Yes, I’ve done a lot of residencies. Sometimes they expect specific kinds of work, and if you deliver something outside of their expectations, it might surprise them—they might not be happy about it. But that’s part of being an artist. You’re allowed to be weird and make surprising work.

DT:

We count on you to be weird for us. You were invited here by Nancy Nan, the director of Redbase, do you find that working with curators brings anything else to your work than producing on your own?

ZL:

Yes, as an artist, you’re kind of just providing the work. The curator does the magic—puts the work into space, creates the context. You have discussions and reach some agreement, but essentially the artist’s role is to provide the artwork.

DT:

Did any collaboration stand out for you in this show?

ZL:

Yes, the collaboration with Yifan was very interesting. She cared a lot about how things were coded and how the whole thing functioned. She worked on it for days and hours—very dedicated.

DT:

Very meditative.

ZL:

Yes.

DT:

Can we talk about my favorite piece before this one—“I Tell the Moon My Secret and the Moon Tells Me Yours”? You exhibited it at Creativity and Cognition in Chicago. We had a tricky issue there—your moon needed darkness, but we were exhibiting indoors in the daytime. You’d already solved this at a previous conference though, right?

ZL:

Yes. The robot interacts with the real Moon at night, so exhibiting it indoors is difficult because you can’t see the Moon from inside a museum. In Chicago, we placed the robot by a window with an image that made it look like it was waiting for the Moon—poetic, but not real interaction.

Then at the next conference, the curator proposed showing a livestream of the Moon from China—since it was nighttime there while it was daytime in the US. So some lucky audiences could have their secret visualized by the real Moon in China.

DT:

A precursor to distant communication.

ZL:

Yes.

DT:

So that thread of communication, care, and recording runs through many of your works.

ZL:

If you say so.

DT:

I do say so. Speaking of your poetic works, how do you come up with these ideas? There may be artists here wondering how to get started—how to bring an idea out of the house or off the computer. How do you get someone to believe in it—like Nancy saying, “Come,” even when the work wasn’t finished?

ZL:

Well, many people don’t buy into it. Not everyone likes my work. Maybe 90% think it’s weird or doesn’t make sense. But I just keep going. Even if people don’t like them, try to finalize the idea and see it through to the very end, and you can still form your own style through doing a lot of work.

DT:

Enough iterations.

ZL:

Exactly.

DT:

In university terms, I can say what we’ve done is practice-based research. We’ve done three iterations of “Almost Intimate,” and now we can publish on it, get ethics approval—it’s PhD-quality work.

But then you told me you also wanted a gallery show. Can you talk about that? Your creative process seems to end with a gallery show.

ZL:

I think it starts with a proposal or idea, and ends with a final showcase. It’s all about practice. I may write a lot of academic papers, but it always starts with the work—an idea I like myself. And then it ends with an exhibition or final showcase.

DT:

Perfect. What are your next steps or adventures?

(not sure if we want to include this part)

ZL:

I’m going to be a visiting scholar at Harvard. But the situation is fluid—what Trump is doing with international student visas could affect me. I might be stopped at the border and sent back to China. Who knows? That uncertainty is part of the future.

DT:

That’s shocking. This is a very competitive opportunity—you had to go through three interviews. And now, just because of your country of origin, you might not be able to go?

ZL:

Well, I’m just a visiting scholar. I’m not expecting anything from Harvard. But for students doing their degrees—it’s really difficult. Some just got their offers, and now this is happening.

DT:

We’ll keep an eye on your story.

Audience Member:

I’ve seen some really interesting quotes from the study. Did anything in the participant feedback surprise you?

ZL:

All of it was interesting—that’s why I put it in the documentation. Deb had interesting views on hair cleanliness—people wanting to be clean even for the robot. Some participants said it felt like a pet patting them. It’s all very interesting. You’re welcome to experience the robot yourself and come up with your own feedback!

DT:

Thank you. And thank you all for being here. Please enjoy the show. Zoe’s here if you’d like to chat more. And let’s have a hand for Nancy Nan and Yifan as well—thank you both!