Chankalun

Chankalun is a Hong Kong–born neon artist dedicated to preserving and reimagining the city’s iconic neon culture. Inspired by the bold, flickering lights that once defined Hong Kong’s cinematic nightscape, she sees neon not just as a visual symbol but as a personal and cultural heritage. “Even talking about it gives me chills,” she says. “They are like little candle lights that warm up our city and give us hope.”

Today, neon is both Chankalun’s medium of expression and a tradition she is determined to keep alive and evolving. Through her platform, she documents disappearing techniques and creates contemporary works that reinterpret neon beyond its commercial origins, ensuring the craft remains part of Hong Kong’s cultural story.

Neon making is a precise and instinctive craft. Glass tubes are heated over an open flame until they soften, then bent by hand within seconds before they cool again. Beyond artistic intuition, the process requires intense focus and a deep understanding of how the glass will respond. As Chankalun puts it, “Neon is complicated. It blends art, science, and even a little bit of sport.”

According to the artist, it typically takes close to ten years to become skilled in neon making, and another four to five years to truly master the art of bending glass and shaping light. In her pursuit of excellence, Chankalun continues to explore new ways of working with traditional neon-making tools and techniques, creating installations, sculptures, and contemporary artworks that push the boundaries of the medium.

Neon is complicated. It blends art, science, and even a little bit of sport.

To advance her mastery of neon making, Chankalun sought training far beyond Hong Kong, learning directly from renowned neon masters in greater Asia, the United States, and Europe. She also previously studied art and design at Wimbledon College of Arts in London and continued her education at Parsons School of Design. Her journey culminated in Paris, where she earned a CAP en enseigne lumineuse at Lycée Dorian, deepening both her technical skills and her commitment to neon preservation.

“I’m trying to capture different essences from them that adapt to my own physique,” she explains, describing how these global influences inform her technique while allowing her work to remain unmistakably her own.

As an interdisciplinary art form, neon making requires more than technical skill. It also demands physical discipline: stamina, patience, and the willingness to repeat the same precise movements countless times. Over time, these movements become instinctive. “I’m trying to capture different essences from them that adapt to my own physique,” she says. By blending external techniques with her natural form, neon making becomes something that lives within her, both technically and physically.

For a creative mind, a material’s true potential often lies in the qualities most people overlook. With glass, that defining quality is fragility and its tendency to crack or shatter when handled without care. Most see this as a limitation, but Chankalun sees it as a possibility.

To the artist herself, glass carries a truth that mirrors life. Fragility is not the opposite of strength. In neon making, even broken glass can be reheated, reshaped, and given new form. “It’s like life,” says Chankalun. “You can always pick yourself up. You can always keep going.”

I always try to redefine the medium and break its boundaries.

As much as Chankalun loves neon’s history, her work also seeks to push the medium forward. In her hands, what was once used mainly for signage becomes bright sculptures, refined design pieces, and intricate installations that highlight neon’s artistic potential.

“I always try to redefine the medium and break its boundaries,” she says. For her, innovation doesn’t mean abandoning tradition. It means creating new spaces for neon to grow, evolve, and stay relevant for the next generation.

Today, many of Hong Kong's neon lights have grown dark, as businesses and stores replace them for cheaper and safer LED displays. Most of the workshops that once produced the city's glowing signs have closed, and only a handful of makers still practice the traditional techniques. For Chankalun, this makes her work more than personal expression, but also a cultural responsibility.“The accessibility of it is so low,” she says. “But if it had been that easy, I probably wouldn’t have taken this path.”

Instead of stepping back, Chankalun chose to document traditional techniques, archive disappearing knowledge, and reconnect the public with neon. Not as nostalgia, but as a living heritage that deserves to endure.

“The journey of a craftmaker is far from simple,” she says. “It is an immense process demanding both determination and resilience. It is a climb.” To her, neon embodies the spirit of Hong Kong just as much as its trams, dim sum baskets, and harbour boats. These everyday symbols carry a quiet perseverance, and she channels that same resilience into every piece she creates.

“Only once I have reached my goal, my summit, can I appreciate the highs I have reached and how far I have come on my journey,” she says.

Whether it’s her more recent work Evening Sun on Lion Rock for Art Basel Hong Kong or the celebrated installation Light As Air, she reveals what neon can truly become: fragile yet resilient, malleable yet enduring.