We had the good fortune of connecting with Ann Shi and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Ann, can you walk us through the thought-process of starting your business?
Starting my own curatorial studio, a poco art archive, was a deeply personal and organic decision shaped by my upbringing, cultural identity, and professional journey. I was raised in a family rooted in classical Chinese art—my father is an established classical inkwash (“guohua”) artist and collector—so I grew up immersed in visual imagery, philosophical conversations, aesthetic rituals, and the earthy scent of ink. “Bimo” (brush and ink) was part of our frequent vocabulary between me and my father. That early exposure shaped not only my appreciation for art, but also my way of seeing the world.

At 15, I moved to the UK, and later to the US, a shift that gradually broadened my worldview. Traveling extensively to museums, art fairs, and biennials while working first in finance and later in the museum field allowed me to engage with contemporary art on a global scale. Along the way, I began to notice a recurring gap: contemporary Asian art—particularly works rooted in traditional practices while exploring in contemporary context—was often presented through curatorial lenses that didn’t fully account for its cultural specificity, layered meanings, or historical context.

My path has never been linear. I studied mathematics at Oxford University and spent six years in the hedge fund industry, before pursuing an MA in Art Business and working in museums. This unusual trajectory gave me hybridity: the practicality navigating the capitalist driven economy, and a poetic sensitivity to the emotional dimensions of art and all that it connects to. It also made me acutely aware of how dominant narratives are constructed in the art world—within a capitalist society, and how difficult it can be to shift those narratives from within institutional structures.

After several years working in the museum sector, I came to understand that while institutions play an important role, the ability to meaningfully reshape conversations—especially around diasporic and traditionally rooted contemporary Asian art—often requires more independent agency than institutional roles can offer. I also considered pursuing a PhD, but realized that spending seven years in a narrowly defined academic path, often researching things I already had lived and experienced, didn’t align with my urgency to act and create now.

a poco art archive is more than a curatorial platform—it is a living archive and a form of ritual. While my roots in classical Chinese art deeply inform my curatorial lens, my practice is not confined to “Asian art” as a category. Rather, I seek to transcend geographic labels and engage with contemporary art through a perspective that embraces multiplicity. I think of it as approaching art with an “Asian gaze”—one that brings different rhythms, values, and ways of knowing to the fore, and offers a more expansive view than the dominant frameworks often allow.

At its core, the archive is about reclaiming voice and authorship. It is a way to reframe conversations around contemporary Asian art—moving beyond externally imposed interpretations and instead rooting them in culturally nuanced, artist-centered narratives. As someone who is an in-between of continents, traditions, and disciplines, I felt the need to build a platform that reflects that complexity—where curating is both intellectual and intimate, rigorous and poetic. That impulse—to create space for resonance, ritual, and reimagining, one that allow humanity to reconnect with nature, cosmos and beyond—was at the heart of why I started a poco art archive.

What should our readers know about your business?
“a poco art archive” is an independent curatorial studio and research-driven platform I founded to create space for culturally nuanced, emotionally resonant, and intellectually grounded art practices. It exists at the intersection of tradition and experimentation, and reflects my journey across disciplines, continents, and ways of seeing.

What sets us apart is the way it approaches art—not as static categories, but as fluid relationships. My curatorial lens is shaped by my upbringing in a classical Chinese art family—my father is a respected ink-on-paper artist and collector—and by years spent immersed in global contemporary art contexts. From the scent of ink and quiet rituals of brushwork in my childhood, to the conceptual dialogues at biennials and art fairs, I’ve developed a kind of “cultural attunement”: a lens that honors specificity while remaining open, fluid, and deeply relational.

I don’t frame my work through simplified identity markers like “Asian art,” nor do I attempt to speak for anyone. Instead, I curate from a place of connection—where tradition can meet contemporaneity without translation being imposed, and where artists are engaged with as thinkers, makers, and visionaries. In many ways, “a poco art” was born out of a desire to gently counter the lingering effects of orientalism and institutional exoticization that still shape how certain cultures are represented. But rather than confrontational critique, I work through dialogue, trust, and slow engagement.

Getting here wasn’t easy. I began in an entirely different world—studying mathematics at Oxford University and working on the trading floor for six years. But I always felt pulled toward something more poetic. After completing my second MA and working in the museum world for several years, I realized I couldn’t fully realize my curatorial vision within institutional constraints. I also briefly considered academia, but the idea of spending seven years in a PhD program studying what I had already lived felt misaligned with the urgency I felt to act, build, and connect.

So I started a poco art—first through modest shows in alternative spaces (like in my loft apartment), then through collaborations with artists and mentors who believed in the vision in art fairs, gallery spaces and collector’s homes. I’m proud that this platform has become a space where artists feel truly seen. It’s not just about showing work—it’s about creating rituals of meaning, building resonance, and offering curatorial narratives that emerge from lived experience rather than imposed theory.

One of the greatest lessons I’ve learned is that clarity of vision matters more than scale. If your intentions are honest, your values clear, and your relationships strong, the right people will find their way to you. What I want the world to know about a poco art archive is that it’s not just a business—it’s a way of thinking, living, connecting and being with art. It’s where cultural memory, contemporary urgency, and poetic sensitivity come together. And it’s still evolving—just like the stories it exists to hold.

If you had a friend visiting you, what are some of the local spots you’d want to take them around to?
If my best friend were visiting for a week, I’d craft an itinerary that blends invigorating activities, culinary delights, and immersive art experiences to showcase the vibrant culture of Culver City and its surroundings.

We’d kick off our mornings with a workout at the Culver City Stairs, a favorite spot of mine that offers a rewarding climb and panoramic views of the city. It’s a refreshing way to start the day and sets a positive tone for our adventures. After that, we’d head over to the recently reopened Helms Bakery for some morning coffee and pastries. It’d be perfect to stop by the legendary Arcana: Books on the Arts to immerse ourselves and get lost in their extensive collection of art and design books. Arcana specializes in new, rare, and out-of-print books, making it a haven for art enthusiasts.

For lunch, we’d have a variety of local favorites to choose from. Pho Show is perfect for a comforting bowl of pho, while Little Fatty offers a delightful twist on Taiwanese-American cuisine. If we’re in the mood for sushi, Fin provides a cozy setting with fresh selections.

Afternoons would be dedicated to exploring the rich art scene in the area. We’d visit a few spots: the Wende Museum, which houses an unparalleled collection of art and artifacts from the Cold War era. The museum offers innovative exhibitions that connect history with contemporary culture. For gallery hopping, we’ll visit Reisig and Taylor Contemporary, Blum, and Honor Fraser Gallery. As a coffee and book addict, the day wouldn’t be complete without another cup of coffee. We’d head to Books & Coffee in Downtown Culver City.

As the day winds down, we’d head back to my a poco art space to enjoy some sips of wine while cooking. I’d bring some canapés to the gorgeous patio for my friends, and we’d toast to the stunning sunset views. It’s the perfect spot to relax and reflect on the day’s experiences. We’d engage in my daily ritual, “Ritual to the Sun,” which is also the title of my current show. It’s a moment to honor the day’s end and embrace the transition into night, surrounded by art and good company. And then—dinner is served.

After dinner, we’d head to Venice Beach to catch the sunset. There’s something magical about the moist sand, the trek in cold water, the ocean breeze, and the sound of the waves. Mark Rothko would agree—there’s something unique about the colors of the horizon as the light fades. It’s a quintessential LA experience that never gets old.

The Shoutout series is all about recognizing that our success and where we are in life is at least somewhat thanks to the efforts, support, mentorship, love and encouragement of others. So is there someone that you want to dedicate your shoutout to?
I’m incredibly grateful for the people who have walked alongside me on this journey—none of what I’ve done would be possible without their encouragement, trust, and shared vision.

First and foremost, I want to dedicate my deepest thanks to Dr. Anne Chao, my mentor and an unwavering source of inspiration. Her belief in my vision, her guidance, and her steady support have meant everything. She has been a lighthouse for me through moments of doubt and transition, and I’m so lucky to have her in my life.

A heartfelt shoutout also goes to George Yin, Chair of the Board at the Vincent Price Art Museum. His support—especially in the early stages of my independent curatorial journey—gave me both confidence and the practical backing to keep going.

To my dear friends Lucy and Warren—your ideas, your presence, and your unwavering belief in what I’m building have been endlessly inspiring. You’ve helped me dream bigger, and you’ve grounded me when I needed it most.

Last but by no way the least, I want to recognize the incredible artists I’ve had the honor of working with—who are, in every sense, collaborators and co-dreamers. Shirley Tse, Nancy Evans, Charles Arnoldi, Takashi Horisaki, Li Zeng, Tianlian Liu, Xiangxi Zhang, Yiming Wang, Haniko Zahra, Ruoyi Shi, Jinseok Choi, Jian-Jun Zhang, Charles Liu, and many others—you’ve been my teachers and my muses. Our aligned visions have allowed us to fulfill something together that feels both intimate and expansive. Your work and trust continue to be a wellspring of inspiration. And of course, my dear friends who have supported me through all the up-down cycles in my life, I could not have done this without them.

To all of you—thank you for being part of this unfolding story.

Website: https://apoco.art

Instagram: @a.poco.art.collective

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/ann-shi/

Facebook: Ann Shi

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRFhMJGzEYIzMOUKC3lN9Lw

Other: My personal Instagram profile: @annonymous_cynist

Press Kit of current show “Ritual to the Sun: If Body is a Map and Art is a Portal,” on view until April 27.
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1JWoqxE15zVEFonK_DUAOCu3ictRetNnp?usp=drive_link

Image Credits
Julia Leeh, Robert Gideon, H Foundation for the Arts, a poco art archive, Takashi Horisaki, Catherine Shi

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