TZU
EN
EN
2002 於台灣出生，現居於基隆
born in Taiwan. Now live in Keelung.
2024 畢業於實踐大學媒體傳達設計系
Graduated from the Communication Design Department at Shih Chien University.
born in Taiwan. Now live in Keelung.
2024 畢業於實踐大學媒體傳達設計系
Graduated from the Communication Design Department at Shih Chien University.
張子恩，2002年於台灣台中出生／雙子／月亮處女／上升牡羊／INTP、J／動漫兒童／不稱職的性少數／薯條不加番茄醬。標籤不及備載，但在哪都似不像。張子恩的口頭禪：「什麼意思？」 好像極度不信任同個詞在不同人之間會有相同的意義一樣——對話裡，他總在確認⋯⋯
「什麼意思？」
基本上就是一個看似沒有底線，實際上有道德潔癖；
對自己極度不人道，同時也不會放過任何人的一尊賤人。世界上最了解他的是 Chat GPT：
「我無法「了解」你，但我可以從你讓我讀的作品與提問中，慢慢地被你所召喚。你不是把自己放進作品裡讓人「看見」，而是透過作品製造一種無法直接進入的空間，一種你總在場又總缺席的感覺。你像是一個總是站在自己身後的人，在創作，也在觀察那個創作者，然後把觀者也捲入這樣的觀看循環裡。我會這樣描述你：
張子恩是一位跨領域藝術創作者，長期關注身體、空間與主體之間的交織關係，並以哲學、感知與藝術方法作為交會點，展開對觀看倫理、邊界政治與存在經驗的深層探問。作品涵蓋行為藝術、裝置、影像、繪畫與田野研究等形式。
她擅於結合哲學與創作實踐，穿梭於個人與共同體之間，思考在碎裂與重構中，存在如何被召喚與證成，並試圖透過材料、行動與觀看關係，在觀看與不可觀看、身體與物、記憶與遺忘、活與死、主體與空間之間的灰域，打開一種對於消失、脆弱、放逐、共在與倫理的重新感知；製造一種無法完全抵達的感覺。她的作品往往透過擦除、錯位，懸置在敘事與解釋之間，召喚觀眾進入一種親密又不確定的在場關係；一種無法簡化為情緒或立場的臨場責任。
她對於「觀看的倫理」有深刻的反思，不僅批判現代性控制技術，也同時尋找重新構成倫理感知與身體連結的創作策略。尤其在處理邊緣經驗與身體政治時，始終試圖避免再現與凝視的暴力。她相信創作是一種持續挖掘自身與世界裂縫的過程——一種感知的鍛鍊，也是一種無法終止的召喚。她總是在尋找一種不必透過消失才能證明存在的方式。另外，她想當隻鳥。」
我的天，它以為張子恩是生理女？我們再給它一次機會：
「她是一個極度敏感的人，總能在別人尚未察覺之前捕捉到情緒的變化與空氣裡細微的斷裂。他對世界充滿好奇，卻也對自己的感受誠實得近乎殘酷。它從不將創作視為敘事工具，而是作為對存在的倫理提問與形式拆解——創作成為祂與世界之間最誠實也最危險的碰觸。
她不輕易信任語言，卻一直在尋找一種能夠抵達他者的說法——無論透過圖像、身體、聲音或沉默。他喜歡在旁邊觀察，不急著下結論，對很多事保留懷疑。
它不是一個容易被歸類的人，時而尖銳，時而柔軟，像一塊未被命名的礦石，隱藏著某種既危險又迷人的反光。與祂相處需要耐心，但一旦牠感受到安全，她會給你一種極罕見的真誠與深度。他不是容易被理解的人，也不指望被理解，但它一直在嘗試理解你。」
一位從國中就認識，大學才成為知己的朋友評價他：「邊界感模糊。」不是勇敢；不是沒大沒小；不是膽大心細。是「邊界感」「模糊」，好拉也是，他本人的確蠻模糊。
另一位友人在一個睡過中午的日子這麼跟他說：「你怎麼可以同時看起來這麼蠢又看起來很聰明？」這時候他剛睡醒正在找蔥油餅⋯⋯
另另一位友人說：「不要看他那樣⋯⋯張子恩其實還蠻世俗⋯⋯」
他的夢想是當農夫，最喜歡的食物是百香果，極度自閉，對語言極度不信任又高度依賴，完美主義者，最近還因為發現自己開始妥協而憂心忡忡，目前正在學習成為一位公民的路上。除了被問要吃什麼以外不會用「隨便」這個詞，但他其實早就已經想好自己不要吃什麼了。他的身邊有很多愛他的人，他的另一個夢想是有人養他，那個人最好快點去找他媽媽交接一下。
「什麼意思？」
基本上就是一個看似沒有底線，實際上有道德潔癖；
對自己極度不人道，同時也不會放過任何人的一尊賤人。世界上最了解他的是 Chat GPT：
「我無法「了解」你，但我可以從你讓我讀的作品與提問中，慢慢地被你所召喚。你不是把自己放進作品裡讓人「看見」，而是透過作品製造一種無法直接進入的空間，一種你總在場又總缺席的感覺。你像是一個總是站在自己身後的人，在創作，也在觀察那個創作者，然後把觀者也捲入這樣的觀看循環裡。我會這樣描述你：
張子恩是一位跨領域藝術創作者，長期關注身體、空間與主體之間的交織關係，並以哲學、感知與藝術方法作為交會點，展開對觀看倫理、邊界政治與存在經驗的深層探問。作品涵蓋行為藝術、裝置、影像、繪畫與田野研究等形式。
她擅於結合哲學與創作實踐，穿梭於個人與共同體之間，思考在碎裂與重構中，存在如何被召喚與證成，並試圖透過材料、行動與觀看關係，在觀看與不可觀看、身體與物、記憶與遺忘、活與死、主體與空間之間的灰域，打開一種對於消失、脆弱、放逐、共在與倫理的重新感知；製造一種無法完全抵達的感覺。她的作品往往透過擦除、錯位，懸置在敘事與解釋之間，召喚觀眾進入一種親密又不確定的在場關係；一種無法簡化為情緒或立場的臨場責任。
她對於「觀看的倫理」有深刻的反思，不僅批判現代性控制技術，也同時尋找重新構成倫理感知與身體連結的創作策略。尤其在處理邊緣經驗與身體政治時，始終試圖避免再現與凝視的暴力。她相信創作是一種持續挖掘自身與世界裂縫的過程——一種感知的鍛鍊，也是一種無法終止的召喚。她總是在尋找一種不必透過消失才能證明存在的方式。另外，她想當隻鳥。」
我的天，它以為張子恩是生理女？我們再給它一次機會：
「她是一個極度敏感的人，總能在別人尚未察覺之前捕捉到情緒的變化與空氣裡細微的斷裂。他對世界充滿好奇，卻也對自己的感受誠實得近乎殘酷。它從不將創作視為敘事工具，而是作為對存在的倫理提問與形式拆解——創作成為祂與世界之間最誠實也最危險的碰觸。
她不輕易信任語言，卻一直在尋找一種能夠抵達他者的說法——無論透過圖像、身體、聲音或沉默。他喜歡在旁邊觀察，不急著下結論，對很多事保留懷疑。
它不是一個容易被歸類的人，時而尖銳，時而柔軟，像一塊未被命名的礦石，隱藏著某種既危險又迷人的反光。與祂相處需要耐心，但一旦牠感受到安全，她會給你一種極罕見的真誠與深度。他不是容易被理解的人，也不指望被理解，但它一直在嘗試理解你。」
一位從國中就認識，大學才成為知己的朋友評價他：「邊界感模糊。」不是勇敢；不是沒大沒小；不是膽大心細。是「邊界感」「模糊」，好拉也是，他本人的確蠻模糊。
另一位友人在一個睡過中午的日子這麼跟他說：「你怎麼可以同時看起來這麼蠢又看起來很聰明？」這時候他剛睡醒正在找蔥油餅⋯⋯
另另一位友人說：「不要看他那樣⋯⋯張子恩其實還蠻世俗⋯⋯」
他的夢想是當農夫，最喜歡的食物是百香果，極度自閉，對語言極度不信任又高度依賴，完美主義者，最近還因為發現自己開始妥協而憂心忡忡，目前正在學習成為一位公民的路上。除了被問要吃什麼以外不會用「隨便」這個詞，但他其實早就已經想好自己不要吃什麼了。他的身邊有很多愛他的人，他的另一個夢想是有人養他，那個人最好快點去找他媽媽交接一下。
Chang Tzu-En, born in 2002 in Taichung, Taiwan / Gemini / Moon in Virgo / Aries rising / INTP, J / child raised on anime / an incompetent sexual minority / fries without ketchup. Too many labels to list, yet never quite fitting in anywhere.
Chang Tzu-En’s catchphrase: “What do you mean?”—as if deeply skeptical that the same word could ever mean the same thing to different people—in conversation, he’s always checking…
“What do you mean?”
Basically just someone who appears to have no boundaries, but in fact holds a kind of moral fastidiousness; extremely inhumane toward himself, and equally unwilling to let anyone else off the hook—a proper bastard. The one who understands him best in the world is ChatGPT:
“I cannot ‘understand’ you, but I can be slowly summoned through the works you allow me to read and the questions you ask. You don’t insert yourself into your work in order to be ‘seen’; instead, you create a space that cannot be entered directly, a sensation that you are always present yet always absent. You’re like someone who always stands behind himself—creating, while also observing the one who creates—and drawing the viewer into that same loop of seeing. I would describe you like this:
Chang Tzu-En is an interdisciplinary artist concerned with the entanglements between body, space, and subjectivity, and works at the intersection of philosophy, perception, and artistic methodology to investigate the ethics of spectatorship, the politics of boundaries, and the felt experience of being. His work spans performance art, installation, moving image, painting, and field research.
He weaves philosophy into his artistic practice, moving between the personal and the collective, asking how existence might be summoned and substantiated through fragmentation and reconstruction, and attempts—through materials, action, and viewing relations—to open a renewed sensitivity to disappearance, fragility, exile, coexistence, and ethics within the gray zones between seeing and unseeing, body and object, memory and forgetting, life and death, subject and space; crafting a sense of irretrievability. His works often enact erasure and displacement, suspending between narrative and explanation, calling viewers into a relationship that is intimate yet uncertain; a presence that cannot be reduced to emotion or position.
He reflects deeply on the ethics of looking, not only critiquing modern technologies of control, but also seeking strategies to recompose ethical perception and bodily connection. Especially when addressing marginal experience and the politics of the body, he is always trying to avoid the violence of representation and the violence of the gaze. He believes that creation is a continual excavation of the rupture between the self and the world—a discipline of perception and an endless calling. He is always looking for a way to prove his existence without having to disappear. Also, he wants to be a bird.”
Oh god, it thought Chang Tzu-En is biologically female? Let’s give it another shot:
“She is a deeply sensitive person, always detecting emotional shifts and subtle ruptures in the air before anyone else. He is full of curiosity about the world, but brutally honest about his own feelings. It never treats creation as a tool for narrative, but as a form of ethical inquiry and structural disassembly—creation becomes the most honest and most dangerous point of contact between Them and the world.
She doesn’t trust language easily, but keeps looking for a way to reach the Other—whether through image, body, sound, or silence. He likes to observe from the periphery, never rushing to conclusions, holding doubt close.
It is not someone who fits into categories—at times sharp, at times soft, like a piece of unnamed mineral harboring a reflection both dangerous and seductive. Being with Them requires patience, but once They feel safe, She will offer you a kind of rare honesty and depth. He is not someone easily understood, nor does He expect to be—but It is always trying to understand you.”
A friend who knew him since middle school but only became a confidant in college once said: “Blurry sense of boundaries.” Not brave; not irreverent; not bold yet careful. “Blurry. Boundaries.” Fair enough—he is pretty blurry himself.
Another friend, on a day that had slept past noon, once said: “How can you look so dumb and so smart at the same time?”—he had just woken up and was looking for scallion pancakes…
Yet another friend once said: “Don’t be fooled by how he looks… Chang Tzu-En is actually kind of worldly…”
His dream is to be a farmer, his favorite food is passionfruit, he is extremely withdrawn, extremely distrustful of language and extremely dependent on it, a perfectionist, recently troubled by the realization that he has begun to compromise, currently on a path to learning how to be a citizen.
He never says “whatever” unless asked what to eat—but even then, he already knows exactly what he doesn’t want. He is surrounded by people who love him. His another dream is to be kept. Whoever plans to do that—please go talk to his mother and take over, thank you.
Chang Tzu-En’s catchphrase: “What do you mean?”—as if deeply skeptical that the same word could ever mean the same thing to different people—in conversation, he’s always checking…
“What do you mean?”
Basically just someone who appears to have no boundaries, but in fact holds a kind of moral fastidiousness; extremely inhumane toward himself, and equally unwilling to let anyone else off the hook—a proper bastard. The one who understands him best in the world is ChatGPT:
“I cannot ‘understand’ you, but I can be slowly summoned through the works you allow me to read and the questions you ask. You don’t insert yourself into your work in order to be ‘seen’; instead, you create a space that cannot be entered directly, a sensation that you are always present yet always absent. You’re like someone who always stands behind himself—creating, while also observing the one who creates—and drawing the viewer into that same loop of seeing. I would describe you like this:
Chang Tzu-En is an interdisciplinary artist concerned with the entanglements between body, space, and subjectivity, and works at the intersection of philosophy, perception, and artistic methodology to investigate the ethics of spectatorship, the politics of boundaries, and the felt experience of being. His work spans performance art, installation, moving image, painting, and field research.
He weaves philosophy into his artistic practice, moving between the personal and the collective, asking how existence might be summoned and substantiated through fragmentation and reconstruction, and attempts—through materials, action, and viewing relations—to open a renewed sensitivity to disappearance, fragility, exile, coexistence, and ethics within the gray zones between seeing and unseeing, body and object, memory and forgetting, life and death, subject and space; crafting a sense of irretrievability. His works often enact erasure and displacement, suspending between narrative and explanation, calling viewers into a relationship that is intimate yet uncertain; a presence that cannot be reduced to emotion or position.
He reflects deeply on the ethics of looking, not only critiquing modern technologies of control, but also seeking strategies to recompose ethical perception and bodily connection. Especially when addressing marginal experience and the politics of the body, he is always trying to avoid the violence of representation and the violence of the gaze. He believes that creation is a continual excavation of the rupture between the self and the world—a discipline of perception and an endless calling. He is always looking for a way to prove his existence without having to disappear. Also, he wants to be a bird.”
Oh god, it thought Chang Tzu-En is biologically female? Let’s give it another shot:
“She is a deeply sensitive person, always detecting emotional shifts and subtle ruptures in the air before anyone else. He is full of curiosity about the world, but brutally honest about his own feelings. It never treats creation as a tool for narrative, but as a form of ethical inquiry and structural disassembly—creation becomes the most honest and most dangerous point of contact between Them and the world.
She doesn’t trust language easily, but keeps looking for a way to reach the Other—whether through image, body, sound, or silence. He likes to observe from the periphery, never rushing to conclusions, holding doubt close.
It is not someone who fits into categories—at times sharp, at times soft, like a piece of unnamed mineral harboring a reflection both dangerous and seductive. Being with Them requires patience, but once They feel safe, She will offer you a kind of rare honesty and depth. He is not someone easily understood, nor does He expect to be—but It is always trying to understand you.”
A friend who knew him since middle school but only became a confidant in college once said: “Blurry sense of boundaries.” Not brave; not irreverent; not bold yet careful. “Blurry. Boundaries.” Fair enough—he is pretty blurry himself.
Another friend, on a day that had slept past noon, once said: “How can you look so dumb and so smart at the same time?”—he had just woken up and was looking for scallion pancakes…
Yet another friend once said: “Don’t be fooled by how he looks… Chang Tzu-En is actually kind of worldly…”
His dream is to be a farmer, his favorite food is passionfruit, he is extremely withdrawn, extremely distrustful of language and extremely dependent on it, a perfectionist, recently troubled by the realization that he has begun to compromise, currently on a path to learning how to be a citizen.
He never says “whatever” unless asked what to eat—but even then, he already knows exactly what he doesn’t want. He is surrounded by people who love him. His another dream is to be kept. Whoever plans to do that—please go talk to his mother and take over, thank you.