Lauren Tsai (b. 1998, Massachusetts, USA; lives and works in Los Angeles) is a multidisciplinary artist and filmmaker working across drawing, painting, sculpture, and time-based media. Her practice is shaped by the animated films of her childhood, centering on long-form narrative and world-building. Within imaginary liminal spaces, memory takes tangible form: emotions manifest as puppets and recurring characters, existing in environments shaped by psychological rather than narrative logic. Across her work, Tsai explores the persistence of ideas and the tension between remembering and forgetting. In 2025, she presented My Dream: Our Hill, an immersive installation for Landmark Hong Kong, followed by The Dying World, a solo exhibition at Hollywood Forever Cemetery, Los Angeles—an evolving project thus far realized as a short stop-motion film and a large-scale installation.

Mr. and Takashi Murakami present three jointly produced paintings. Mr.'s figures—translated from his recent NFT series into acrylic on canvas—appear amid Murakami's flower fields, their wide-eyed vulnerability set against the flowers' relentless cheer. Mr.'s solo exhibition is currently on view at the Neiwei Arts Center in Kaohsiung through April 26.

Also on view is Murakami's new FRP sculpture of a panda parent and cub—rendered in his signature rainbow palette and making its Hong Kong debut—a character that has recurred across his paintings, prints, and sculptures for over two decades. Other artists from the Kaikai Kiki collective continue the dialogue between fine art and popular culture: AYA TAKANO’s life keeps bursting forth peoples an animistic, Eden-like world where fluid figures and living forms coexist in a poetic vision of interconnected life; Emi Kuraya presents two oil paintings of young women at the edge of adulthood, her muted palettes attuned to the textures of uncertainty and self-discovery; ob brings two works in which figures hover between waking and dreaming, her characteristic haze suffusing the boundary between the physical and the imagined; and Otani Workshop presents Crying Tanilla—capturing the artist’s signature monster mid-cry, its raw expression both comic and unsettling—ahead of a forthcoming solo exhibition at Perrotin Paris in June 2026.

A new painting by Danielle Orchard, titled Seamstress, continues her sustained inquiry into female physicality, filtering modernist precedents—Picasso, Matisse, Balthus—through her own fragmented figuration. Her solo exhibition Borrowed Chord is currently on view at Perrotin Paris through April 18. Vivian Greven’s new painting )( XXI features the “kiss,” a recurring, iconic motif in her work that transforms an originally intimate scene into abstraction. In her practice, body imagery shaped by art history and contemporary digital culture becomes a site where intimacy, distance, and identity are continually redefined.

Rao Fu presents two new paintings. Beijing-born and Dresden-trained, Fu draws on Chinese landscape tradition and calligraphy as much as Saxon Neo-Expressionism, fusing spectral figures and saturated color into charged, dreamlike tableaux. Fu's solo exhibition at the Red Brick Art Museum in Beijing opens on March 20 and runs through June 21.

Perrotin is pleased to return to Art Basel Hong Kong 2026 with Steph Huang's immersive installation Grafting, presented in the Encounters sector.

Grafting is a speculative archaeology of familial memory and cultural hybridity. It begins not with a historical fact but a sensory narrative: the fictional recollection of Susan, who embodies a generation’s experience of growing up within a uniquely Taiwanese cultural landscape. Her memories—of nights shared on tatami, the specific scent of aged timber in a grand wooden house, and the boundless narratives conjured during make-believe after school—serve as the emotional and conceptual bedrock of the work.

The project is constructed as an immersive environment, a “room” assembled from artifacts gathered during recent expeditions into both physical and mnemonic territories. The primary architectural gesture is the use of numerous shoji screens, which function as more than mere dividers; they are metaphors for the permeable nature of cultural boundaries. By arranging these screens to extend and blur the line between the indoor and the outdoor space, Huang mirrors the widespread adoption and adaptation of the washitsu in Taiwan three decades ago, which was not a pure importation but a translation—a cultural practice filtered through a local lens and need.

This process of translation is the core of the artist’s inquiry. Cultural adaptation is not a failure of authenticity but a dynamic, creative act of survival. It can be seen in the sweet and sour chicken of Western Chinese takeout, a dish invented for a foreign palate, or in Japan’s Spaghetti Neapolitan, where ketchup becomes a pragmatic, beloved substitute for a distant Italian sauce. Similarly, the Taiwanese washitsu frequently employs a readily cleanable, humidity-resistant hardwood floor in lieu of tatami, acrylic panels in place of delicate paper for the shoji screens—a practical modification born from a cultural imperative. These are ingenious solutions, evidence of a culture’s ability to metabolize the foreign into the familiar. Within the space defined by the shoji, Huang carefully reassembles a constellation of elements to showcase Taiwanese “grafting,” this innate skill of adaptive reassembly.

Handmade mango plants stand as potent symbols. The mango is itself a fruit of colonial history, yet its taste has been thoroughly domesticated into the very fabric of Taiwanese childhood. It represents the complex evolution of colonization—the way external forces are tested, tasted, and ultimately woven into the local identity.