Du Hai Jun (Jiangsu, China, 1978) explores the aesthetic and social experience of the contemporary city through oil paintings that shift between figuration and construction, capturing the density of living spaces and the fragmentation of the metropolitan landscape. Windows play a central role as observation points that condense micro-histories, social tensions and collective memories, while architectural grids emerge as a recurring structure of modern life. The result is a reflection on the relationship between architecture, the individual and the community. We met the artist in Venice, at the Cavana Gallery, where his exhibition Chronicles of the Floating City is currently on display until 29 July. The exhibition features a selection of works (32 pieces, including oil paintings on canvas and aluminum, and sculptures), that create a living world full of lives.

Architecture, and in particular the city as seen through its windows, is the central theme of the exhibition at Cavana Gallery. What are the reasons behind this choice? And what symbolic significance does it hold in our contemporary world?
Architecture is much more than a physical structure to me: it is a trace of human presence, a silent testimony to the way we inhabit the world. I chose to focus on windows because they represent a boundary, a threshold between inside and outside, between the private and the collective sphere. When I look at a façade, I do not see only a building; I imagine the lives unfolding behind those openings, the stories, the expectations, and the absences. In this sense, windows become a kind of indirect portrait of contemporary humanity. They do not show people, yet they evoke their presence. In our time, marked by increasing urban density but also by a widespread sense of isolation, the window takes on a particular significance. It is a tool for observation, but also a symbol of the distance that often separates individuals. Through my work, I try to reflect on this condition: we are physically closer to one another than ever before, yet often more distant on an emotional level. The contemporary city thus becomes a metaphor for global society: a collection of lives that coexist, brush against one another, and overlap without necessarily truly meeting. Windows express precisely this tension between connection and separation, between visibility and mystery, which I consider one of the defining themes of our present time.

Architecture, memory and collective identity: the ability to imagine personal worlds that become universal seems to be one of the fundamental characteristics of your work. How do you develop your imagination?
My imagery always begins with a personal experience – something I have seen, lived through, or simply sensed. However, I am not interested in telling an autobiographical story in the strict sense of the term. Rather, I try to transform an individual experience into an open image, one that can also embrace the memory and imagination of the viewer. Architecture is one of the tools I use in this process. Cities preserve the traces of time, social transformations, hopes, and the wounds of a community. When I paint a building, a window, or an urban landscape, I am not documenting a specific place; I am trying to evoke a human condition. Architecture becomes a kind of emotional archive, a container of both visible and invisible stories. Memory plays a fundamental role in my work. I do not see it as a faithful record of the past, but as something fluid and constantly reconstructed through remembrance, forgetting, and imagination. For this reason, my images are never purely descriptive or realistic. I prefer to leave areas of ambiguity – empty spaces that allow viewers to enter the work through their own experiences. I believe that collective identity is formed precisely at the point where individual memory and shared memory meet. When a work is able to awaken a recollection, a feeling of familiarity, or a personal reflection in people from different backgrounds, something deeply intimate can become universal. It is this possibility of connection that I continually seek to explore in my work.

If you had to sum up the exhibition Chronicles of the Floating City in a single work, which one would you choose to convey who Du Hai Jun is? What aspect of his art makes it distinctive?
If I had to choose a single work to represent Chronicles of the Floating City, I would choose one from the Urban Window series. In these images, I recognize many of the themes that have accompanied my artistic journey: architecture as a testimony to human presence, the relationship between memory and time, and the search for what remains hidden behind what we see. A window is a simple and universal element, yet it carries a powerful symbolic meaning. It is a threshold between inside and outside, between private space and the collective sphere. It allows us to observe while at the same time protecting the mystery of what lies beyond. In this tension between the visible and the invisible, I find a metaphor for contemporary life and for the way we relate to one another. If I were to identify the most distinctive aspect of my work, I would describe it as the transformation of the urban landscape into an emotional space. I do not see the city as a subject to be represented, but as a living organism that preserves traces of experiences, memories, and change. Even when architecture occupies the center of the composition, the true subject remains the human being and their relationship with time. I am also interested in preserving a sense of silence and suspension within my works. I do not seek to offer definitive narratives, but rather images that suggest possibilities and raise questions. I believe it is this openness to interpretation that defines my practice: creating spaces where each viewer can recognize something of themselves while simultaneously encountering something unknown.

How do his “Chronicles” engage visually with the architectural grandeur of Venice?
Venice holds a special place in the imagination of anyone who reflects on the relationship between city, memory, and time. For this reason, I find it particularly meaningful to present Chronicles of the Floating City in a place that, more than many others, seems to exist in a suspended state between reality and vision. My “chronicles” do not portray Venice directly, but they enter into dialogue with some of its deepest qualities. Venice is a city built through continuous layers of history: every building, every façade, every window preserves traces of different eras and bears witness to countless lives that have passed through it. My work is also rooted in the idea that architecture is an archive of collective memory, a place where time leaves both visible and invisible marks. There is another affinity that I find especially important. In my works, the city often appears as a suspended space in which human presence is suggested rather than explicitly represented. Venice possesses a similar quality: it is at once extremely tangible and almost immaterial, built upon water, shaped by reflections, and constantly transformed by light. This sense of instability and apparent fragility resonates strongly with the very idea of the “floating city” that gives the exhibition its title. More than a formal comparison between architectures, I see this as a meeting of sensibilities. The works invite viewers to see the city as a living organism, made not only of stone and matter, but also of memories, absences, imagination, and expectation. In this sense, Venice is not simply the place that hosts the exhibition; it becomes an integral part of its meaning.

The exhibition also features the series When the Smoke Clears, which explores the conflicts and wars that continue to leave a deep mark on contemporary society and our planet. Here, cities lie in ruins. What pressing issues do these works address?
The series When the Smoke Clears grew out of a reflection on what happens after destruction – when the noise of weapons fades away and only the consequences remain, often lasting far longer than the conflict itself. I was not interested in depicting war as a dramatic spectacle or as immediate reportage. Instead, I wanted to reflect on the traces it leaves behind in places, in people, and in collective memory. The devastated cities that appear in these works do not necessarily belong to a specific location. They are images that bring together different experiences and realities, because the destruction caused by conflict continues, unfortunately, to affect many parts of the world. Through these wounded architectures, I try to speak about a vulnerability that concerns not only buildings, but the human condition itself. The main urgency these works address is memory. We live in a time when images of conflict pass rapidly before our eyes and risk being consumed as quickly as they are produced. Art can instead offer a space for slowing down and reflection, inviting us to look at what remains after the media attention has faded: the wounds, the absences, and the difficult process of both physical and emotional reconstruction. At the same time, these works speak about responsibility and awareness. Wars do not only alter the destiny of entire communities; they also transform landscapes, environments, and cultural heritage that belong to all of us. When a city is damaged or destroyed, what is lost is not only a collection of buildings, but also a part of our shared human memory. For this reason, I see When the Smoke Clears not only as a reflection on destruction, but also on resilience. Even in the most damaged landscapes, memory survives, and with it remains the possibility of rebuilding – not only physically, but culturally and emotionally as well.

What personal significance does this exhibition in occasion of the Venice Biennale hold for you in the context of your artistic career?
Presenting Chronicles of the Floating City in Venice during the Biennale Arte has a special meaning for me. The Biennale is a moment when artists, cultures, and ideas from all over the world come together and engage in dialogue. Being part of this context offers a valuable opportunity to connect with an international audience and to place my work in conversation with different perspectives and sensitivities. Venice is a city that feels particularly close to the themes I explore in my work. It is a city built on memory, layers of history, and the meeting of different cultures. Walking through its streets and observing its architecture, one constantly senses a dialogue between past and present. These are the same qualities that inspire the way I look at cities and urban landscapes. This exhibition is especially important to me because it brings together different aspects of my artistic practice. On one hand, there are the works focused on windows and urban spaces, which explore memory, identity, and human presence. On the other, there is the series When the Smoke Clears, which reflects on the scars left by conflict. Although these bodies of work are different, they are connected by the same interest in the traces that time and history leave behind in places. I do not see this exhibition as a destination, but rather as a stage in an ongoing journey. Venice and the Biennale encourage me to continue exploring, to ask new questions, and to search for new ways of reflecting on the relationship between people, memory, and the cities we inhabit.

Which art forms and artists have influenced your work?
The influences that have shaped my work are many and come from different experiences. My cultural roots have certainly played an important role. I grew up in China, and I believe that a particular sensitivity to time, silence, and the observation of places continues to inform the way I look at the world and construct my images. At the same time, I have always been deeply interested in Western art. Artists such as Edward Hopper and Giorgio de Chirico have inspired me through their ability to transform spaces into places charged with atmosphere and emotion. Although my work is very different from theirs, I admire the way they suggest stories and states of mind without explicitly narrating them. More broadly, I am drawn to artists who explore the relationship between memory, the city, and identity. What interests me is not so much their style, but their way of observing the landscape and reading within it the traces left by time and by human lives. That said, the most important influences do not come from art alone. They also emerge from travel, architecture, literature, cinema, and the everyday observation of cities. Walking through an unfamiliar street, noticing a lit window, or looking at a façade marked by time can be just as inspiring to me as visiting a museum. Rather than following specific models, I try to allow all of these experiences to enter my work naturally. My artistic language grows out of the meeting point between cultures, memories, images, and everyday observations.

How important is the technical aspect of your work?
The technical aspect is very important in my work, but I never see it as an end in itself. Technique is the language through which an intuition, a memory, or a reflection can be transformed into an image. For this reason, I pay great attention to materials, composition, light, color, and the quality of the pictorial surface. These elements do not simply define the appearance of a work; they help create an atmosphere and shape a specific emotional experience. In my creative process, technique and content develop together. When I address themes such as memory, urban identity, or the wounds left by conflict, I always search for the visual form best suited to expressing them. Layers, transparencies, overlaps, and variations in texture are not merely aesthetic choices; they become tools for evoking the passage of time, the complexity of human experience, and the traces that history leaves behind in places. At the same time, I believe that technique should remain somewhat discreet. What interests me is that viewers first connect with the emotion, reflection, or question that the work generates, and only later become aware of the process behind it. Technical quality is essential, but it should support meaning without imposing itself as the main subject. Over time, I have learned that technical mastery is not the same as perfection. What truly matters is finding a balance between control and openness, allowing space for the unexpected. Very often, it is precisely the unforeseen variations and small imperfections that make an image feel more authentic and closer to reality. For this reason, I consider technique an essential tool, but always one that serves the vision and the artwork’s ability to create a dialogue with those who encounter it.

Featured image: © Du Hai Jun