Ernest Chang

There’s no such thing as a one-dimensional artist. If you’re anything like Ernest Chang, you’d glean the creative possibilities of entire universes hidden within your psyche and channel them into creating eclectic, synthetic (in the best sense) and mind-haunting worlds. They draw you in, capturing and enchanting you with their prophetic ability to reveal the most hidden elements of your experiences. 

At the age of eight, Chang moved from the US to Hong Kong, which today is the setting for his gallery, The Stallery. Thus, his status as homegrown luminary derives not from birthright but rather his years of soul-searching, battling with inner demons, perseverance and profound feats of creativity and discipline. “I got into art because it was the only outlet I had during school when I was bullied,” he says. “Because I came out as gay when I was young, I didn’t get a good reception from my peers.” 

Chang’s work is often a sardonic commentary on popular culture, conveyed through silk-printed paintings that depict recognisable motifs in unlikely contexts. Last year he debuted his Space Rich series, which explore the cosmic points of intersection of futurism and consumerism through beloved characters – think Sailor Moon, Rick and Morty, talking daisies from Alice in Wonderland and The Simpsons’ Mr Burns. 

The juxtaposition of arresting solid colours and blatant cynicism derives from Chang’s adolescent struggles. “I had a lot of addiction issues with alcohol, medication and drugs,” he says. “I needed a way to let my inner story be told, so I decided to channel it into my work.” His first attempts to express himself through photography were thwarted by colour-blindness, which made success in that field virtually impossible unless he confined himself to black-and-white. “When I started doing colour [portraits], people thought I was toning them wrong – the skin tones were all orange or green,” he says, laughing. 

After two stints in rehab, however, Chang reached a new level of self-discovery, which inadvertently led him to the style of artistic expression he excels at now. “At the end of the day, suffering equalises us,” he muses. “Rehab opened me up to free-form thinking that I wasn’t practising in my work.”

And there it is: a well-calibrated mixture of surrealism and abstract post-postmodernism, which, like an exceptionally made disco ball, is combined in myriad shards that reflect the fascinating, heartfelt and painful parts of their creator.