lllustration of Lucy Liu at ABHK by Maria Chen

DATE

2026/05/15

ARTICLE

Maria Chen

PHOTOS

Images courtesy Uffner & Liu

Lucy Liu on Identity, Advocacy, and the New Gallery Model

The Uffner & Liu partner on international expansion, supporting AAPI and female artists, and why the next generation of gallerists is rewriting the rules

In a moment when the art world is rethinking its structures—who leads, who is represented, and how global dialogue is built—Lucy Liu represents a distinct shift in pace and perspective. At just 25, her appointment as partner at Uffner & Liu signals more than a generational milestone; it reflects a broader reconfiguration of leadership within the contemporary gallery landscape—one that is increasingly collaborative, internationally attuned, and artist-centred.

Born in China, raised in Canada, and now based in New York, Liu brings a diasporic sensibility to her work—moving fluidly between local and global contexts, from the Lower East Side to Asia’s evolving collector and institutional ecosystems. Under her co-leadership, the gallery has expanded its international presence, including participation in Art Basel Hong Kong, while continuing to build long-term relationships with artists across generations and geographies. This positioning is not simply about market expansion, but about creating new conditions for how work is seen, interpreted, and sustained across contexts.

At the core of Liu’s approach is a clear commitment to advocacy that goes beyond visibility. Her focus on integrating AAPI (Asian American Pacific Islander) artists into the fabric of programming—alongside the gallery’s longstanding support of female-identifying and mid-career practitioners—points to a more structural understanding of representation: one grounded in continuity, rigour, and care. Through both institutional frameworks and independent initiatives such as Loft 121, she continues to champion emerging voices while questioning the formats and systems that shape their visibility.

In this conversation with CNTRFLD.ART, Liu reflects on what it means to lead at a time of transition—navigating diasporic identity, building cross-continental dialogue, and rethinking the role of the gallery as both a cultural and relational space.

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CREDITS

Header: Uffner & Liu gallery facade


Slider Image 1-4: Nianxin Li: Neon Haze
September 5 – November 1, 2025. Installation view

Presented by Uffner & Liu and shared in the context of CNTRFLD.ART’s conversation with Lucy Liu, Nianxin Li’s Neon Haze unfolds as a luminous meditation on visibility and distance—where iridescent, membrane-like forms hover between seduction and opacity, and intimacy remains just out of reach.

"Leadership, especially in this ‘new generation,’ is less about hierarchy and more about coordination and stewardship—making sure that each part of the ecosystem is working in dialogue with the others, and that the artist remains at the center of that structure.”
—Lucy Liu

NEW LEADERSHIP

CNTRFLD. You stepped into a partnership role at Uffner & Liu at just 25—a moment that feels symbolic of a wider “new guard” in the art world. How did your journey from Yale University, alongside your experience at David Zwirner and beyond, shape your approach to leadership so early on?

LL. I think the idea of 25 being unusually young is a perception that’s quite specific to certain parts of the art world. Many gallerists began building spaces in their early twenties, and if you look across other creative industries—whether it’s music, film, dance, or even tech—that’s a point at which people are already taking on significant leadership roles.

At Yale, I received a strong foundation in art history, but just as important was the energy of my peers across a variety of disciplines—their passion, drive, and vision for what they wanted to create. My experience at David Zwirner exposed me to the operational rigor and long-term thinking behind a global gallery. And it is one of my favourite programs. 

Stepping into partnership at Uffner & Liu felt less like an early arrival and more like a natural continuation of the trajectory I’ve always been on—one rooted in curiosity, discovery, and creative agency—and of course one intimately connected with the lives and careers of visual artist.

CNTRFLD. You’ve moved rapidly from sales associate to partner in under two years—something quite rare in the industry. What do you think you saw differently, or did differently, that allowed you to become a catalyst within the gallery’s evolution?

LL. It was a rare and unexpected opportunity, and not without real risk. Stepping into it required a leap of faith—on my part, but also on the part of Rachel Uffner, who not only believed in me but also generously changed the name of the gallery to reflect this partnership. I’m conscious of not wanting to frame that transition in a self-congratulatory way; it had as much to do with timing, trust, and circumstance as anything else.

That being said, if there’s anything I brought to the table, it’s an indefatigable excitement for the work. The past few years have been challenging for the art market, and I think there’s a real sense of fatigue in many parts of the industry—questions around overcommercialization and whether the work of being a gallerist still holds meaning in the way it once did.

I believe that the work we do is vital: building contexts for artists, sustaining practices over time, and creating relationships that allow the work to live and more importantly, evolve. There might be some naivety involved, but it’s also what allows me to eat, sleep, and breathe this work with an unassailable sense of purpose.

CNTRFLD. You’ve taken on roles across operations, artist development, and curatorial programming. How do you define leadership today in a gallery context—and what needed to shift for a new generation to step into that space?

LL. Wearing multiple (or all) hats is par for the course in a small gallery context. Working across programming, exhibition design, artist management, shipping, operations, art fairs, etc; is just part of what it takes to keep a gallery running.

Leadership, to me, is about bringing those different functions into alignment in service of a singular goal. The same is true beyond the gallery as well—collectors, curators, writers—we’re all working toward the same end, which is to support artists, elevate their work, and help articulate their stories in a meaningful way.

Leadership, especially in this “new generation” is less about hierarchy and more about coordination and stewardship—making sure that each part of the ecosystem is working in dialogue with the others, and that the artist remains at the center of that structure.

GLOBAL BRIDGE

CNTRFLD. Born in China, raised in Canada, and now based in New York, you bring a distinctly diasporic perspective to your work. How has that shaped your instinct for building bridges between local scenes—particularly the Lower East Side—and broader international contexts, from Asia to platforms like Art Basel Hong Kong? And within that, how do you balance staying rooted in a specific community while cultivating a genuinely global programme and collector base?

LL. I’m a fairly classic Third Culture Kid—which is just someone raised in multiple cultures. This makes most of us pretty comfortable across very different environments, which is a helpful state of being in an industry that’s simultaneously super global and intimately interconnected. 

One week you’re hosting a gallery dinner in Marylebone during Frieze London, the next you’re in Hong Kong during Basel week watching Hwasa perform at M+. In between, you’re back in New York doing studio visits in Bushwick. And then in August, to be humbled as many of us in the art world need to be on an annual basis, you go home to Ningbo and explain the concept of an art fair to your grandma using the apt analogy of haggling prices at a vegetable market. 

That kind of fluidity—being able to move between different registers, different audiences, different value systems—is, in many ways, what art does as well. At its best, it’s a universal language that distils complex human histories and experiences down to something essential and shared, while still holding onto specificity.
That’s part of the reason why it’s been so exciting to introduce our program, which is pretty American, to Asia. This year we participated in Art Basel Hong Kong for the first time, and last October, our artist Talia Levitt opened an exhibition at K11 art museum in Shanghai. We’re in a position to build meaningful dialogue between the US and Asia, not just as a form of expansion, but as a way of creating new readings for the work.

I’m still bullish on Asia. The more speculative energy that defined parts of the market before has cooled, and what remains is a deeper, more curious form of engagement. That kind of attention—thoughtful, sustained—is what we’re hoping to continue to build in the region.

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CREDITS

Images 1-5: Miwa Neishi & Toshiko Takaezu

Toki-No-Wa; Harmony of Time

January 16 – March 7, 2026. Installation view

Within CNTRFLD.ART’s interview with Lucy Liu, Uffner & Liu’s presentation of Toki-No-Wa; Harmony of Time brings Miwa Neishi into quiet dialogue with Toshiko Takaezu—an intergenerational exchange where clay holds memory, lineage, and the rhythm of time.

COMMUNITY & ADVOCACY

CNTRFLD. There’s a strong commitment to introducing more AAPI (Asian American Pacific Islander) voices into future programming. What does meaningful advocacy look like to you in practice—beyond visibility—and how do you ensure it translates into long-term structural change?

LL. Like you said, visibility is only the starting point. Meaningful advocacy has to be structural—it’s about how artists are supported over time, not just how often they’re shown.

In practice, that means integrating AAPI artists into the core of the programme rather than positioning them as part of a separate or thematic track. Any artist we work with is there because the work is compelling and rigorous—quality is non-negotiable, and identity is not instrumentalized.

That said, of course context matters—how these artists are being positioned, and whether the narratives around their work are expanding or limiting how they’re understood. Advocacy isn’t just about increasing representation, but about ensuring that the work is being engaged with on its own terms.

Ultimately, structural change happens through consistency. It’s the accumulation of decisions over time—who you show, how you support them, where you place their work—that shapes a programme. The goal is for that commitment to be embedded to the point where it no longer needs to be framed as advocacy, but simply as part of the gallery’s foundation.

CNTRFLD. Through projects like Loft 121, you’ve created space for emerging and under-recognised artists, often outside traditional systems. What have these more experimental formats taught you that you’ve brought back into the gallery model?

LL. Loft 121 allowed for a different kind of immediacy. Without the same structural or commercial pressures, you can be more responsive and test ideas quickly.
What that taught me is how important it is to maintain a sense of flexibility, even within a more established gallery model. Not every project needs to follow the same timeline or format, and some of the most meaningful engagements happen when there’s room for experimentation and appetite for risk.

At the same time, it taught me the fundamentals of helping to manage a business responsibly. Even in that context, we maintained a profit and loss sheet, documented everything in spreadsheets, and had written consignments for all of our artists. It was important that experimentation didn’t come at the expense of professionalism or accountability.

CNTRFLD. The gallery has long supported female-identifying and mid-career artists. As you help shape its next chapter, are there particular artists or practices—especially from the ESEA (East and Southeast Asian) diaspora—that feel urgent for you to platform right now?

LL. Totally. Recently, we presented an exhibition with Miwa Neishi alongside historical works by Toshiko Takaezu, which was particularly meaningful as a cross-generational dialogue. They represent very different relationships to Japan—Takaezu working from within a diasporic lineage (she was born in Hawaii in 1922) and Neishi engaging with ceramic in a more contemporary, urban way (she grew up in Tokyo). It was a beautiful install. 

We also presented a solo exhibition by Nianxin Li last year, who is Chinese and lives and works in New York. I find her work intensely compelling in the way it navigates atmosphere, colour, psychology, and the human body. It’s a practice that resists fixed interpretation, which is something I’m consistently drawn to.

More broadly, there are many ESEA artists who I’m excited about and would love to work with over time. The focus, for me, is on building a programme that supports artists with strong, sustained practices—without reducing them to a single framework or expectation.

CNTRFLD. Having navigated institutions, commercial galleries, and independent initiatives, what kinds of support systems have been most critical in your own path—and where do you still see gaps for emerging curators and gallerists today?

LL. The most important support systems for me have been a combination of mentorship, peer networks, and the opportunity to learn by doing. Having people who trust you and are willing to give you responsibility early on makes an enormous difference—I’ve been very fortunate in that regard.

At the same time, being surrounded by peers who are actively building their own paths—whether as artists, writers, or curators—has been just as important. That kind of shared energy and exchange creates its own form of support, especially in an industry where there isn’t always a clear or linear trajectory.

In terms of gaps, I think there’s still a lack of transparency around how the art world functions—financially, structurally, and relationally. It can be difficult for emerging professionals to get their foot in the door, especially without access to resources or networks. When I was in college, I cold emailed a lot of galleries looking for internships, often without much response.

One thing that’s been important to me is trying to offer that access where I can, whether that’s accepting LinkedIn DMs or taking the time for coffee chats and calls. Even small moments of guidance can make a difference early on. I definitely wish someone had jumped on a call with me in my senior year of college and just given me a candid lay of the land. 

There’s also a broader issue of sustainability—both economic and personal. The work often relies on a level of precarity that isn’t viable for many people, which inevitably limits who is able to participate. Addressing that, in a meaningful way, is something the field still needs to contend with.

Image 4: Lucy Liu & Rachel Uffner

LOOKING FORWARD

CNTRFLD. Finally, many of our readers are emerging creatives across the ESEA diaspora who see your trajectory and feel inspired. What advice would you offer those looking to enter—and ultimately reshape—the art world on their own terms?

LL. The most important thing is to recognize that like a lot of creative fields, there isn’t a single path in the art world, and in many cases, you have to build your own—whether that’s through starting projects, reaching out to people, or creating opportunities where they don’t yet exist. You need to take the initiative.

At the same time, it’s important to stay grounded in why you’re drawn to the work in the first place. The industry can feel opaque or overly commercial at times, but if you remain engaged with whatever core motivation is driving you, that sense of purpose tends to carry through.

I also think it’s important to maintain perspective—to understand how art fits into a much wider cultural, social, and economic landscape. The art world can sometimes feel insular, but the work itself is always in dialogue with something beyond it. Being aware of that context can shape how you approach your work and your life, and what makes you feel fulfilled. 


As Liu’s approach suggests, the gallery is no longer a fixed model but an evolving set of relationships—shaped over time through attention, continuity, and care for the work itself. What emerges is less a new system than a recalibration of priorities, where artists—and the conditions that sustain them—remain firmly at the centre.

Editorial Advisor: Paul Davies 
This feature was developed with the strategic support of Paul Davies. A veteran of Visionaire and British Vogue, Paul provides editorial oversight to CNTRFLD.ART, ensuring our dialogues maintain the highest level of aesthetic and cultural rigour.

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