About
Jaee Tee (b. Malaysia) is a self-taught artist based in Kuala Lumpur whose practice explores the invisible dimensions of landscape through abstraction. Her work traces unseen energies, rhythms, and forces that connect all living things, drawing on science, philosophy, and personal memory to create layered, gestural fields that reflect nature’s quiet intelligence.
Tee’s artistic approach is shaped by New Materialism, Indigenous perspectives on nature, and scientific studies on plant intelligence—frameworks that challenge traditional human-centered views of the natural world. Her practice also reflects a deep sensitivity to spiritual and immaterial forces.
Working primarily with acrylics and oils, she occasionally incorporates mineral pigments, ash, and natural materials collected from the forest floor.Her intuitive gestures seek out the living memory and silent agency of the land. Drawing on her Chinese heritage, Tee also employs techniques reminiscent of traditional ink painting—her fluid, translucent layers balance translucency and intensity.Her gestural marks are lyrical and responsive, exploring the tension between the subtle and the bold, where stillness and energy converge—revealing the quiet intelligence and expressive force embedded in the living world.
Tee has collaborated with institutions and brands such as McLaren Kuala Lumpur and Banyan Tree Hotels, and is currently developing new projects that extend her exploration of ecological consciousness in contemporary art. Born and raised on the edge of a Malaysian kampung jungle, her connection to the living landscape continues to shape both her creative process and the spiritual undertones of her work.
Artiste Statement
As an artist, I carry with me the traces of things I’ve loved, believed in, questioned, and quietly held onto. My faith, my memories, ideas and people that have opened up my thinking — all of it finds its way into my work, sometimes consciously, sometimes in ways I only notice later.
Growing up in a small village in Malaysia, I spent long days as a child trailing ants, collecting red saga seeds, and wandering through my father’s coffee plantation. That early closeness with the land shaped me. It taught me to listen — not just with my ears, but with my body, my breath, my sense of time.
My paintings begin in the forest. I go there to gather, not just fallen leaves and branches, but impressions, movement, energy. Sometimes I sketch, at times I just wander and pause when i feel a tug —drawn to a tree, a plant, or even a stone that stirs something in me. Back in the studio, I distill what I’ve felt — a curve of bark, a flicker of light — into gestures on canvas. I work with acrylics, oils, and occasionally earth pigments or ash. Some marks are soft and translucent, like breath; others are raw, urgent, like a scar or a cry.
Lately, my work has turned toward the idea of landscape as a living intelligence — something with memory, agency, and its own language. I'm drawn to the quiet philosophies of New Materialism and Indigenous knowledge systems, as well as scientific research into plant sentience. These ideas help me understand what I’ve always felt: that the land is not inert, not separate, but very much alive — and speaking.Through painting, I’m learning to listen more closely. Each work is a conversation — between the seen and unseen, the physical and the spiritual, between what I know and what I’m still trying to understand.
