This entry is part of Hyperallergic’s 2026 Pride Month series, featuring conversations with queer and trans elder artists throughout June. I encountered Richard Tsao about 20 years ago, during my early days in the New York art scene. Born and raised in Bangkok, Tsao has called New York home for over fifty years. He is renowned for his painstakingly crafted “Flood Room” paintings, which are created by pouring, soaking, and layering pigments, water, and marble dust into rich, abstract pieces. Some of his artworks take years to complete.
I’ve been fortunate to witness his paintings firsthand over the years, most recently at his solo exhibition daydreamin’ at Amelie A. Wallace Gallery at SUNY Old Westbury, curated by Hyewon Yi, and at the group exhibition How Asian Is It? at the Milton Resnick and Pat Passlof Foundation, curated by Lily Wei. His art consistently evokes the sensation of psychedelic lunar landscapes, merging sculptural and painterly qualities. Capturing their allure in photographs has always been a challenge due to their remarkable depth.
During my visit to Tsao’s studio in Jackson Heights, Queens, New York, where he also engages in fashion design, creating exquisite Thai silk jackets, scarves, and coats, he sat cross-legged on the floor, akin to a yogi, as he noted, and humorously suggested I embellish his story to make it more intriguing. I assured him it wasn’t necessary, as his multifaceted work has left a lasting impression on me.
In our discussion, Tsao compared artmaking to a hunger for food, planting a seed, or the Thai concept of sanuk, which means play. Our conversation touched on his gradual coming out, becoming an artist, and his forthcoming move from New York City to Washington, DC. The interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.
Hyperallergic: When did you come out?
Richard Tsao: I don’t have a specific date — it was a gradual process, influenced by who I was with, where I was, and the context. Growing up in Asia, we didn’t often focus on “me,” as discussing oneself was considered impolite. My good friends were aware, and when I fell in love in America, it was more natural. Coming out as an artist was more daunting. I always wanted to be an artist, but feared how to support myself. This worry persisted through my formative years and beyond, and still lingers.
