Xin Liu, Artist and Engineer

Xin Liu is an artist and engineer who not only explores and measures the post-metaphysical world across personal, social and technological spaces—but also makes it experienceable.

APOSSIBLE™ is a non-profit bringing psychologists, technologists, artists and creatives together to explore how technology can better support creativity and human fulfillment. In this ongoing interview series we’re discovering what people value, what makes their lives fulfilling, and what kinds of relationships to technology they already cherish.

1. What is a ritual, practice, or routine in your life that is important for your psychological wellbeing and/or fulfillment? Why?

One of my rituals is having slow mornings. If I have to rush out the door, it just doesn’t feel good. I like to have about two hours from the time my alarm goes off until I leave the house. I want a slow rise, a good time to make coffee, eat some fresh fruit, and talk to my husband—just not be rushed in the morning.

On a larger scale, it’s very important for me to avoid burnout. In grad school, I put too much pressure on myself to finish projects. I pulled a lot of all-nighters and rushed through my work. I’ve decided that will never happen again. Now, I’m super scheduled with my work. My rigidity in project management, which is probably rare for creatives and artists, is what allows me to be truly creative and feel free when I’m scheduled to do so: so that I don’t have other thoughts in the back of my mind, worrying about other unfinished tasks. This structure protects a sacred time where I can truly relax, work, or hang out with friends. In a funny way, my rigid schedule has become a guard for my mental health.

Using tools like Calendly really helps me block off time. I have a clear sense of what’s happening, even down to the hour, one or two weeks from now. Since I work internationally and travel often, having a digital calendar is essential. I wouldn’t be able to keep track of everything with a paper notebook, especially with time zones and meetings. This technology frees my mind in that sense.

I don’t think there can be freedom without structure. If I have no idea what’s going to happen next week, it’s exhausting. I’d constantly be trying to figure out what to do each morning—whether to work, rest, or something else—and that would be mentally draining. Structure brings clarity, and clarity gives you the freedom to relax, work, or even play video games, with peace of mind.

2. What is a human-made creation that brings out the best in you? Why?

Modern modes of transportation like airplanes and trains. For me, the ability to do what I’m doing right now is deeply rooted in the mobility I have between countries and cities. But it’s not just about traveling to new places to see beautiful landscapes or go sightseeing. It’s about physically connecting with individuals and their worlds.

Early in my career, I struggled with the idea that I needed to find one place to settle down and root myself. But I’ve since realized that’s not how people work or thrive anymore. It’s more about engaging with exciting things happening all over the world and moving with them. This lifestyle has not only given me a new perspective but also reinforced my belief that there are people out there who are interested in what I’m doing and will support me.

3. When do you cherish the slow or hard way of doing something? Why?

I learned the hard way during my time at MIT that if I don’t fundamentally understand something, I won’t succeed. I used to try shortcuts, like copying and pasting code from GitHub, hoping it would work without fully understanding it. But every time, it would break, and I’d have to go back to square one to figure it out. That experience taught me that taking the time to understand something fully is actually the most efficient way to get things done. It’s better than constantly fixing mistakes made from taking shortcuts.

Now, I take my time and go slowly with things, and I’ve realized I’m actually faster because most people are focused on shortcuts. They spend a lot of time skimming the surface, avoiding deep engagement with the topic. But once you start, it’s not that hard. It might take a year to get the hang of things, but after that, you’ll be an expert and will be better than most of those in the field. There’s something beautiful and incredibly efficient about learning from scratch.

4. What is something you appreciate or long for from the past? Why?

Writing on paper has always been the best method for me to get my thoughts down. I still write everything, even the most mundane exhibition or grant applications, on paper before transferring them to the computer. When I transcribe, I also have the opportunity to edit, which adds another layer of refinement. It’s a two-step process, but it works because there’s a different kind of logic at play when you write things down by hand.

If I’m writing by typing and get stuck, it can take me forever to find the right words and get unstuck. There’s so much noise and so many versions, and sometimes the language itself feels stuck too. But when I use a pen—especially a fountain pen or a dip pen, which I prefer because I like to have nice handwriting and enjoy the feel of it—the words just flow. When I start writing on paper, it feels like I’m speaking. I think there’s a somatic connection between my mind and my hand. I’m more focused, and my thoughts come out in a more linear, sequential manner through my hand. In contrast, when I’m typing, it feels like there’s a disconnect; the thoughts don’t flow as easily onto the screen.

I’ve always felt there’s something about the physical movement of writing and the way it connects to the brain that’s important, perhaps even neurologically. It would be interesting to do some experiments to see if you could rewire that connection with a keyboard, but for now, I haven’t been able to achieve the same flow with typing.