What does it mean to be human? How can our experiences feel so entirely our own, yet eerily mirrored in others? These are the kinds of questions that circle endlessly in the mind of Ziting Gao — questions of love, will, and the quiet architecture of identity.
Her latest collection, Shadow Eclipse, channels these thoughts into form: garments that seem caught between light and shadow, drawing on tarot, eclipses, and the liminal spaces in between. Sculptural silhouettes rise and fall like monolithic shapes, while delicate craftsmanship pulls you close, inviting stillness, reflection, and transformation.
Born in China into a household where emotion was folded inward and self-possession was a virtue, Gao grew up fluent in the language of restraint. Moving to London to study at Central Saint Martins meant unpicking that vocabulary and stitching in a new one — one that could hold ambiguity, complexity, and quiet defiance. She draws from mythology and ancient teachings but reworks them through her lens, using clothing as a second skin for emotions that resist speech.
Gao herself prefers the shadows. She’s not the kind of designer who clamours for attention; she’s more likely to linger on the edges, watching, thinking. Her work asks for the same patience in return. “I would love to present work in spaces outside of fashion — like galleries, gardens, or libraries,” she says. “Environments that slow people down and invite contemplation, rather than fast consumption.”
It’s in that slowed-down space that our conversation begins.
What’s the earliest memory you have of making something just for the sake of making?
One of my earliest memories of creativity was sitting on the floor, wrapping dry plants and strings around small stones, not for play but as a way to create something symbolic. I didn’t understand it then, but it was my way of shaping emotions without words. Over time, this tendency became more intentional. It was not one defining moment but a quiet, ongoing way of being.
Where do you feel most at home: physically, emotionally, or creatively? Has that changed over time?
I feel most at home when I am in a space that allows emotional ambiguity and slowness. London gave me that. Physically, I am still adapting, but emotionally and creatively, I find freedom here. In earlier years, I felt the need to be very precise, to match expectations. That has shifted. Now, I value openness more.
Growing up with Chinese traditions of restraint and symbolism, how have you had to unlearn, reclaim or reimagine these values in your work?
My background in Chinese culture gave me a deep sensitivity to form, symbolism, and restraint. At the same time, I had to unlearn the idea that emotional expression must be hidden or indirect, I try to reimagine these values now by making garments that speak through layering, protection and concealment – a kind of quiet expressiveness.
What principles or beliefs quietly guide everything you make? Even if they’re not obvious to others.
I believe garments can hold emotional memory. I see fashion as a language of tension, containment and release. My designs often start with psychological questions, not visual ones. I want clothing to feel like a second skin that tells stories the body can’t say.
How do you define “success” for yourself as an artist or creator? Has that definition evolved?
Success means resonance. If someone connects with a piece of mine emotionally, that is enough. I used to think recognition or visibility defined success. Now, I think depth and sincerity are more important.
Do you believe artists have a responsibility to reflect the world around them, or escape from it?
I think artists do both. We reflect the world by processing it, but we also create spaces to imagine alternatives. For me, reflection comes through exploring emotional states that often go unspoken in daily life.
Is there a question or theme that keeps returning in your work, even subconsciously?
Yes, I return often to themes of intimacy, emotional entanglement, and impermanence; these come up again and again, whether through visual symbols of materials that decay or transform.
How do you balance structure with spontaneity in your process?
Structure helps me begin, but I don’t let it control the outcome. I often start with research or narrative frameworks, but then allow materials and accidents to reshape the final form. It’s important to leave space for the unexpected.
Who or what are you consistently drawn to for inspiration, even when you try not to be?
I always return to psychological theory and classical mythology. No matter how far I drift, I end up reading Jung or thinking about mythic figures again. They help me build symbolic meaning.
Outside of fashion, what fields influence your approach?
Psychology is a big influence.
What’s something you’ve learned from another artist or collaborator that shifted your thinking completely?
While working with Mud Sik Studios, I learnt the expressive power of ecological materials. It made me understand how material choices themselves can carry emotional and ethical meaning. It shifted the way I think about sustainability – not just as a function, but as a narrative.
What’s something you’re currently unlearning or letting go of creatively?
I’m unlearning the idea that everything needs to be resolved or complete. Some pieces are stronger when they remain open or ambiguous. I am also letting go of over-editing my process.
How do you see your work evolving in the next few years—materially, conceptually, or otherwise?
I plan to explore accessories and textile installations alongside garments. I want to experiment with slower processes and materials that change over time. I also hope to build a small studio for intimate collaborations
If you weren’t doing this with your life, what else could you imagine devoting yourself to?
Probably psychology or writing, I think both of those fields also involve storytelling and emotional understanding, which are central to my work
Are there spaces or contexts you dream of placing your work in, outside of the fashion system?
I would love to present work in spaces outside of fashion – like galleries, gardens, or libraries. Environments that slow people down and invite contemplation, rather than fast consumption.
You can explore the installation here.