How Fu Ruilin Blends Feminine Energy in Computational Jewelry - A conversation.

What is the origin story of you as a creative? 

Since childhood, I’ve always loved drawing, reading, and music. Those focused, flowing moments of creativity gave me a vast inner space—an unbounded sense of freedom. I loved the feeling of becoming part of the materials and energies around me, as if time and everything in the universe were resonating and communicating with me.
In high school, under my mother’s expectations, I shifted to studying science in preparation for engineering or finance university. But the rigidity of that environment clashed with what I truly longed for. In my final year, I decided to turn toward art.
I studied printmaking as an undergraduate, mainly practicing woodcuts. This traditional, manual form deepened my understanding of material, process, and the tactile intimacy of creation. Later, I was introduced to digital art—which felt utterly magical. In the virtual world, you become a creator of space and narrative, drawing out entirely new dimensions. That sense of infinite potential became my entry point into studying computational arts.

You blend computational arts with handcrafted detail. Sounds part cyborg, part alchemist. When did you realize this duality was your thing?
During my Master’s in Computational Arts, I realized how vital materiality is to me — the physicality of touch, the smell of materials, the way light behaves on real surfaces. This kind of multisensory intimacy grounds me. It's like an anchor — the wellspring that supports my creative exploration in the digital world.
I’m fascinated by the endless possibilities of digital art, but the raw, sensory experience of handcraft is essential to me as a carbon-based human being. The natural world and physical materials hold their own kind of complexity and intelligence, just as mysterious as any algorithm. These two modes of creation feel like parallel universes to me — distinct, but deeply interconnected.

You describe your jewellery as “wearable sculptures.” What’s the most unexpected thing someone’s said or felt when wearing one of your pieces?
The most touching moments are when someone tells me they feel a connection with the piece — like it links them to another world, or reveals something hidden within themselves. That sense of intimacy and resonance goes far beyond decoration; it feels like the piece becomes an extension of their inner landscape.

Nature is clearly your muse, soft but strong, ambiguous but intentional. If one piece from your collection came alive as a character, who would they be and what would they say?
I would choose the Dew collection. If it came alive, it would be a quiet spirit that says nothing — it would simply look at me with tenderness.

What materials are you obsessed with lately and why? Any odd ones that people would be surprised you’ve worked with?
I’m currently obsessed with combining clear resin and silver. I love the way metal glimmers beneath translucent surfaces — it creates this layered, ethereal effect. I’m also fascinated by the flexibility of 3D printing and the spatial freedom it offers.

I’ve been experimenting with hair and metal, and I’m curious about combining wood with metal to see what kind of energy that creates. In the past, I’ve worked with latex to mimic skin-like textures for jewelry and installations — people are often surprised by how uncanny and lifelike the material feels.

How do you know a piece is done? Is it a gut feeling, a code output or just a feeling?
It’s a mix of gut instinct and visual imagination. Sometimes I just know — that’s it, that’s the form I was aiming for. Other times, I run through different possibilities in my mind, shaping and reshaping the image until it settles. When the form stops shifting in my head,
that’s when I know it’s done.

Your pieces seem to hold emotional charge. What feeling are you hoping someone takes with them when they walk away wearing FuRuilin?
I hope they feel both grounded and transformed — like the piece doesn't just adorn them, but becomes part of them. My aim is for each work to feel like an emotional companion, something that resonates with their inner self. When someone wears my piece, I want them to feel more fully themselves — more complete, more connected — as if the boundary between their reality and their dreams has softened.

Let’s talk energy, how do you balance the digital (precise, repeatable) with the analog (messy, human)? And how does that show up in your creative process?
When I use digital tools, I often get drawn into the precision and visual logic they offer. But I constantly remind myself to stay present in my body — to maintain a sense of closeness, intuition, and personal emotion. I move between digital and analog methods like breathing — one grounding the other, keeping my work alive and responsive.

The brand channels feminine strength, but what does that actually look or feel like in your work, beyond the buzzwords?
As a female artist, I believe that when I face myself with full honesty and create from that place, my work inherently carries feminist strength. Validating my own emotions and embedding them into my creative process is, for me, a personal feminist practice.
I intentionally infuse my work with sensitivity, emotional depth, and a gentle sense of empathy — qualities that are often labeled as “feminine,” “fragile,” or “unstable.” By embracing and honoring these aspects, I reclaim them as sources of power rather than weakness.

Each of my collections holds a different kind of energy. In Western philosophical traditions, nature and femininity have often been positioned in opposition to culture and reason — just as the body has been seen as inferior to the mind. Nature, like women, has been framed as chaotic, emotional, reproductive — something to be controlled, conquered, or used.
Through my work, I celebrate nature not as the other, but as a powerful subject. Whether wild or soft and intricate, the organic forms I create speak to an embodied, intuitive strength. They offer the wearer not only beauty but a quiet sense of courage and empowerment.

Dream collab: dead, alive, real, virtual, AI-generated… who’s helping you design the next collection?
I want to collaborate withmycelium. It’s a decentralized, collaborative, and sensitive network — to me, a form of radical intelligence and a metaphor for resisting control and hierarchy.
Its structure reflects the kind of feminist thinking I’m drawn to: nonlinear, dispersed, and quietly powerful. I want to make work that grows like mycelium — slowly, intuitively, interdependently. Its visual forms fascinate me too — simultaneously organic and logical, like nature’s own algorithm.

Fill in the blank: My work exists in the space between _intuition_ and _logical structure_. (Go deep or go weird.)

Interviewed by Fernanda Ondarza from GLITCH Magazine

Words by Fu Ruilin