Yindi: There are recurring images in your work, such as butterflies. The sculpture series A Modern Fetish also includes other kinds of insects. What do these images mean to you?

 

Yasmine: I'm actually scared of insects; oftentimes, I scream or have a legit panic attack at the sight of them. Making these images felt like a failed desensitization training session, since the insects are static, sealed in amber-like relics. During the process, I found amber quite mysterious—it encapsulates not only time and tectonic movement but also my fear and dedication to confronting it, which creates a strong tension within.

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Yindi: The depiction of eyes often appears in your work, such as in Crescendo and Her Love is a Bleeding Tank. What draws you to this imagery?

 

Yasmine: My early training was more theoretical than practical—studying film theory from scholars like Laura Mulvey, with concepts like the male gaze, and various social science theories, like the tourist gaze or orientalist gaze. These ideas form a foundational part of my knowledge. So, I actually deal with the concept of gaze rather than the eye itself. The gaze in my work is a contempt for the so-called "gaze".

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I have worn Lolita fashion for ten years, and in my late teens or early twenties, people really liked to shit on me, saying I catered to male aesthetics. I’m not someone who can pretend the male gaze doesn’t exist, but I have to find a way to justify and rationalize my actions. You have to wear it to counteract people’s gaze.

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Some American researchers would say Japanese idols entirely cater to male desires and are produced from an assembly line.​

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Yindi: You once participated in AKB48's audition; what made you consider entering the idol industry?

 

Yasmine: I didn’t really try to be an idol desperately—perhaps I was only about 70% committed. But when the opportunity came up, I went to the audition. Even then, I knew that if I pursued a career as an idol, I wouldn’t be a good “actor.” My academic training was strict and radical. Some theories don’t bridge the gap with reality, and even when they do, they often oversimplify or reduce things to labels. For example, mainstream critiques of the idol industry often portray it as mass production, a cultural product, or a constructed spectacle that caters to the male gaze. Studying these theories can be overwhelming because, while they seem accurate, they fail to address the real questions: Is there any way out? They also fail to resolve my own pain: despite knowing all the harm, where do these desires come from?​

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Why should I listen to those researchers, sitting in their suburban, white-fenced houses, who might not fully understand the upbringing and context of these Japanese girls—girls who see being an idol as the only escape from a gloomy life? To dismiss the industry is to dismiss and victimize their entire existence. I'm more interested in the illusional joy.

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Yindi: How do you incorporate your feelings and experiences about the idol industry into your work?

 

Yasmine: When I was in Hong Kong, I was working on research-based video essays about idol groups, aiming to deconstruct the production process of the idol industry. When I first moved to the US, I had to explain my Asia-specific topics to everyone. So much energy went into educating the audience about the context that the work itself lost its impact. It ended up being merely a paraphrase of pre-existing statements, and I found my efforts to be completely ineffective… Later, a friend told me that the enthusiasm I showed while discussing this work was real energy—not the logic.

 

When I started this project, I didn’t initially intend to portray myself as an idol. At the time, I was simply trying to understand questions that felt unfamiliar: Why are people attracted to Asian girls? Why do they like me? These questions, combined with a friend’s prompt—“Why are you so drawn to idols?”—led me to a bigger question: Who am I? 

 

I could have skillfully traced various representations of Asian women, all the way back to early film and theater archetypes: sexy assassins like Lucy Liu, or Madame Butterfly waiting for her white savior. I could have done a comparative study from the Pacific War to the Vietnam War. I could have spent a long time reading about the history of Asian Americans. But I eventually realized that none of these were my stories. Perhaps I can only discover my own story through questioning.

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Yindi: What was your inspiration for A Modern Fetish?

 

Yasmine: At that time, I had a somehow clear intuition that I needed to create a crime scene—particularly focusing on violence against girls. I had previously made works and written short stories about crimes related to fan attacks on idols, so in that sense, I’ve long been interested in exploring this type of violence. But calling it an “interest” feels frivolous—no one truly wants to experience such trauma. One might come dangerously close at most, even for me.

 

For example, when I first received the hand-painted frame, I placed a selfie of myself—in my idol persona mode—inside it. But I eventually chose to use a metaphor instead: images of amber. Victimizing myself felt self-indulgent and ominous. I guess my curiosity is two-layered: it involves the psychological mechanisms behind these phenomena, and the self-criticism needed to understand why I have this curiosity in the first place.