Film, edit and text by Alex Schuchmann
We met Li at the end of last year on a rainy London afternoon and spent the day together in their studio. Over green tea, we met their cat Pipi and talked about Li’s beginnings in music, self-built instrument tables, and what Li jokingly describes as an unsuccessful art career. The conversation slowly moved towards identity, belonging, and how making music became a way to take up space. As an Asian, female-presenting artist in a scene that often feels dominated by white men, Li spoke about how their work initially leaned towards very loud and noisy sounds. Over time, this intensity softened, making space for a more intuitive and sensitive practice to emerge.
Much of Li’s work is influenced by their mother’s Buddhist way of life, centred around observing emotions rather than amplifying them. This non-attachment approach eventually led Li away from visual art and deeper into music, where a feeling can exist on something as simple as a cassette tape. When we visited, Li was recording a new album and showed us some of their favourite instruments — a theremin, a violin, a keyboard, and self-built devices. The sounds were crunchy and physical, and for Li, staying grounded while playing is essential, allowing the sound to travel and settle into the body. Li’s music moves fluidly through genres and textures, never committing to just one. Listening becomes an act of attention — to sound, silence, and everything in between. You can learn more about Li on their Instagram.
You can learn more about Li on their Instagram.