The London-based artist looks inward for her first exhibition in Hong Kong. Interview by Edmund Lee

With their empty eyes and monochrome faces, the figures in Maya Hewitt’s paintings often look like they are alone in a crowd. Having been heavily influenced by Hiroshi Sugito, whom the London-based artist briefly studied under at Nagoya University of Art, Hewitt also likes to draw on the anonymous feeling of living in the city. For Night is Imminent, her first Hong Kong exhibition, the artist presents a series of melancholy fiction typical of this sentiment. Weaving together a collection of images from her visit to this city last November, none of her pieces, interestingly, seem to refer specifically to the night, yet all brim with an ambience of nocturnal reverie. Before our interview, Hewitt warns me of her tendency to deflect questions; often speaking in truncated sentences, it is as if her words are a futile attempt to catch her free-flowing – yet conflicted – train of thought. The act of explaining her work, she jokes, “is almost like shooting [herself] in the foot at the same time.”

In your own mind, who are these figures in your paintings?
Um, I guess I work in a kind of really locked down way. I used to always paint figures with hoods on. It was [an] almost adolescent style, where you’re just at war with the world; you just want to escape into another realm. And I guess the figures are kind of, like, they are, uh, me. [Laughs] Of course, it sounds awful to say that, but I can’t help it. I think the way I work becomes really introverted in a way, so I end up self-referencing so much to the point where I have figures in the paintings painting other paintings, so I want it to be like they’re keeping me company, almost.

There are some distinctively Hong Kong elements in your work here. In fact, religious figurines seem to be featuring prominently.
In a lot of my previous work, I wanted to have lots of figurines in there. I’ve never had a spiritual upbringing or a religious side, so I kind of have this naff way of hoping for it. I see these figurines in some of the small local shops [in Hong Kong] – I don’t know what their spiritual meaning is, but [they are] there, and I kind of want it to be my own. I appropriate these images and weave them into my own fiction. It’s not [related to] religion, but it’s like a higher state of… [Pauses]

… it’s like creating myths.
Yeah, it’s like creating your own folklore. Actually, the lady that came here before was saying to me, “why did you use this old-style imagery when Hong Kong is so modern?” But I can’t help being attracted towards that. [Pauses] Actually, if I had the show again, I did want to paint loads of high-rise buildings, but it’s just so boring to paint buildings.

I think some of your choices of subject matter are quite refreshing.
Oh, really? [Laughs] That’s what I was wondering, ’cause so much of my work is self-referential. I don’t really think about the audience. I don’t think of [the work] as being in a gallery and being seen. So I was wondering if this even relates to anyone. And people don’t ever tell you actually, so you never really know. This is the kind of life of an… I don’t think of myself as an artist, but it’s just, you’re always kind of quite insecure. That’s why I sort of build up walls [that are] higher and higher to the point where you’re just, like, this is what I do.

Is that why all the figures look so sad?
Yeah, yeah, in my drawings, maybe the women look a lot lighter. But I definitely can’t help but have sad people in my work. [Laughs] I think it’s partly to do with being from London and the way you see the city. You know the term flâneur? It’s like you’re anonymous and you seem to be just watching [things pass] by. That’s what I love about Hong Kong: you can be completely alone and totally sad, and no one knows about it. But then I want [the figures] to glow as well. I want there to be hope in them.

How would you describe your own style?
Um, that’s a hard question, right? [Laughs]

Well, how do you feel about your own style?
Well, I think I’m always… drowning. [Laughs] I’m always trying to survive, in a way – I don’t mean financially or anything like that, but it’s almost like I love a white canvas. And then, it’s all downhill from there. So you’re always struggling to get the image that you want. I hope that people come to see the works, now that everyone’s using the internet. I really love the texture of painting; it’d totally be lost if [you’re only looking at] an overview picture. I stretch the canvases on board, so I can be very rough with them; and I use erasers to scrap away; you can see hairs trapped in the paint; it still looks quite rough in areas. In my paintings and drawings, there’s definitely a more illustrative element, which makes it more inviting. But hopefully the viewers can see beyond that. The colours are quite seductive and vibrant, but there’s actually a moody overtone to it, I think.

Night is Imminent is at 10 Chancery Lane Gallery until May 14.