The space between with Artist Manshen Lo

There's a particular kind of art that doesn't announce itself. You glance at it, think you've understood it, and then it stays with you quietly, insistently, long after you've looked away. That's what Manshen Lo does.

When we were putting together Volume 03: Under Pressure, we knew we needed an artist who understood something about that word. Not pressure as drama or urgency, but as the quieter kind that builds slowly, beneath the surface, until something changes shape.

Her piece for this volume, Girl Balancing on the Chair, is a perfect example. At first, it looks like stillness. A girl on a chair. Petals falling. But stay with it for a moment and something shifts. She shouldn't be able to hold that position, and yet she does. There's pressure in the image that doesn't announce itself with drama. It's the pressure of holding yourself together while the world keeps moving. Of petals landing in ordinary rooms where they don't quite belong, trying to keep their shape anyway.

It might look like being stuck. But something is always changing in Manshen's work. Pressure, as she seems to understand it, doesn't only push against us. Sometimes it's what helps things find their form. That felt true of the coffees in Volume 03 too, both processed through the slow, patient tension of anaerobic fermentation, both shaped by people who kept showing up in difficult conditions until something unexpectedly bright emerged.

We asked Manshen a few questions about how she works and what drives her. Her answers, much like her illustrations, hold their shape under pressure: measured, deliberate, and quietly more revealing the longer you sit with them.

What does a really good morning look like for you?

It starts with the smell of freshly ground coffee from the espresso machine (this is not an ad, I'm actually a coffee addict lol)

Your work often seems to carry a quiet sense of tension. Is that something you're consciously shaping, or something you notice once the image is finished?

An image usually starts in my head from something invisible. I used to call it a mood or tension, but now I see it more as an invitation to feel a certain way. It's a set goal followed by carefully calculated work, rather than something that suddenly appears when the image is finished.

When you begin a new illustration, what's the first thing you tend to establish: a figure, a gesture, or the space around it?

It's hard to pinpoint what comes first into an image when I work. I look at human figures and other visual elements as shapes and forms that have been arranged to create a mood.

Your compositions often feel very restrained. How do you decide what to include and what to leave out?

To keep the image minimal yet precise, I'd remove items that feel shouty or obstructive. Sometimes that means leaving half the image out.

"Shouty." That word does a lot of work. It's a useful lens for anyone thinking about what to keep and what to cut, in art, in writing, in a morning routine.

Your illustrations often stay with moments that feel paused or unresolved. What interests you about holding an image in that space?

I want my artwork to mash the beginning, middle, and end of a story together without a linear perspective; it can look paused and unresolved, but often feels truer to life.

How do you know when a piece is finished, or finished enough?

I was definitely the person who endlessly finessed an image. It's not until recently I started to follow my instinct and stop where it needs me to.

Knowing when to stop. Possibly the hardest thing in any creative practice.

Explore Manshen's work at manshenlo.com and follow along at @manshenlo.

Volume 03: Under Pressure is available now. Join the Folk club to get Manshen's Girl Balancing on Chair and coffee to create shape to your mornings.