Behind every memorable show is a series of often invisible decisions: how visitors enter a space, where they pause, what draws their attention, and what stays with them after they leave.

New York–based spatial designer Lea Xu works at the intersection of art, architecture, and audience. Working between exhibition design and fashion scenography, her practice explores how temporary environments shape the way culture is seen, felt, and remembered. Her work includes major exhibitions and flagship presentations at Sotheby’s, while cultivating a distinct approach to narrative-driven space.

For Xu, design is never simply decoration. It is a form of choreography — a way of building relationships between artwork, architecture, and perception. Whether recreating the atmosphere of a 1980s subway for a Keith Haring project, responding to the iconic presence of the Breuer Building, or transforming a gallery into an intimate domestic setting, her work treats space itself as an active medium.

Today’s audiences move faster, look through multiple screens, and seek both immediacy and meaning. As a result, exhibition design is being asked to balance new tensions: spectacle and depth, visibility and presence, image and experience.

Artmag spoke with Lea Xu about what makes an exhibition truly resonate, the mistakes galleries often make, how audiences are changing, and why the future of exhibition design may belong both to immersive public environments and to quieter, more personal encounters.

1. When you begin working on an exhibition, what is the very first decision that shapes everything else?

The very first decision is defining the narrative lens of the exhibition — what story is being foregrounded. That frames how the work, the space, and the audience relate to one another: whether the architecture recedes or becomes active, whether the objects are presented as isolated works or as part of a larger narrative field, and how the viewer is meant to move through and feel within the space.

From there, everything else naturally follows — the level of intervention, the material language, the sequencing of spaces, and even the way light is introduced.

2. Many people think exhibition design is about making things look good. What do you think is most often misunderstood about your role?

One of the most common misconceptions is that exhibition design is primarily about aesthetics. In reality, it is fundamentally about constructing a relationship between the work, the space, and the audience.

Much of that happens through decisions that are almost invisible: how a visitor moves through a space, how long they stay with a piece, how light shapes perception, or how proximity creates meaning. These elements determine how the work is experienced. It is less about composing an image and more about orchestrating an experience over time.

3. How do you find the balance between supporting the artwork and creating a strong spatial identity of your own?

Quite honestly, I often begin with the impulse to create a theatrical experience of the space, but I always return to the works themselves. I’ve found that the artist’s intent and the process of creation tend to offer more depth than any purely visual or material gesture.

For me, the strongest spatial identities emerge as a response and feel inseparable from the work itself. They are not something applied on top or asserting themselves independently.

4. When you walk into an exhibition you designed, what do you pay attention to first: how people move, how long they stay, what they ignore?

I tend to pay attention to the thresholds — how people enter the space, and how they feel when leaving it. The entrance sets the tone, and the exit reveals something equally important: how the experience lingers, and what kind of energy or feeling people carry with them as they leave.

After that, I begin to look at where people slow down, where they pause, and just as importantly, what they overlook. Those patterns of attention are often the most honest feedback. They show whether the spatial narrative is legible and whether the exhibition can sustain engagement over time.

5. Do you think today’s audiences experience exhibitions differently than, say, ten years ago?

I think audiences today are more visually literate, but also more fragmented in their attention. There is a heightened awareness of space, image, and atmosphere — largely shaped by digital culture — but at the same time, a shorter threshold for engagement. People move quickly, document constantly, and often experience exhibitions through multiple layers at once: physically, digitally, and socially.

That said, I don’t think the core desire has changed. There is still a strong appetite for experiences that feel immersive, intentional, and emotionally resonant. If anything, it places more responsibility on design — not to compete for attention, but to create moments that can hold it with emotional depth and resonance.

6. How much do you consider the “Instagram effect” when designing a space? Is it something to embrace or to resist?

I do embrace it quite directly. The “Instagram effect” reflects how people engage with space today — it is part of how exhibitions are experienced and shared. I think of it less as a superficial layer and more as an extension of the audience’s interaction with the work.

It has made exhibitions more visual, but also more democratic, expanding access to art for the public. At the same time, it acts as a magnifier: it can expose weaknesses, but also elevate moments that are genuinely worth holding onto.

7. From your experience, what are the biggest mistakes galleries or artists make when preparing an exhibition?

One of the most common challenges is treating the exhibition as a series of individual placements rather than a cohesive spatial narrative. When decisions are made work by work, without considering the overall rhythm and relationships, the experience can feel fragmented.

There is also a tendency to either over-articulate or underdefine the space. Too much intervention can compete with the work, while too little can leave the experience unresolved. In both cases, the issue is not quantity, but precision. When it works well, the space and the work feel inseparable; you don’t read one without the other.

8. If not a “perfect” exhibition, then what makes a strong exhibition today?

A strong exhibition is one that feels emotionally resonant, legible, and clear, yet almost effortless in how it is experienced — everything feels exactly where it should be. At the same time, it fulfills an educational dimension without becoming didactic.

9. Looking at projects like Icons: Back to Madison or Im Spazio, what did they teach you about working with space as a storytelling tool?

Both projects reinforced the idea that space is an active medium — Icons especially. The exhibition took place at the Breuer Building, where the architectural identity is already distinct. Working with historically significant artworks, the focus became constructing a dialogue between the space and the works, and deciding how much the architecture should assert itself versus recede.

With Im Spazio, the approach shifted more toward transforming the gallery into a domestic, salon-like environment, where the spatial language echoed the provenance of the works.

In both cases, the process involved defining the role of architecture and the attitude of the space: whether it acts actively or remains silent, and how attention is directed.

10. Looking back at your practice, which projects feel the most important or revealing to you — and why?

Art in Transit for Keith Haring. We created a full experience that recreated a 1980s subway environment in order to exhibit the artworks in situ. Hundreds of people came, returned, and engaged with it — the level of excitement was contagious and palpable.

That collective energy and sense of celebration is what I initially wanted to create through space, and it has stayed with me ever since.

11. If you could design an exhibition without any constraints — no budget, no limits — what would you want to explore?

I would like to design exhibitions that live outdoors and exist more fluidly, where the works are breathing and alive, in constant exchange with the environment. Museums and galleries are often described as mausoleums for artworks, and I would like to keep them in motion and living.

12. Are there any books, references, or sources you would recommend for someone who wants to better understand how to design an exhibition?

Exhibition Design by David Dernie is a great one. Some of the precedents may be slightly outdated, but it remains highly relevant. I would also recommend books beyond exhibition design itself — especially on scenography and architecture.

Some of the most meaningful references come from visiting exhibitions, traveling, and paying attention to how spaces make you move, slow down, or feel. Those experiences stay with you in a way that books sometimes cannot.

13. And finally, how do you imagine the future of exhibition design? Are we moving toward more immersive environments, or back toward something more restrained?

I think the field is beginning to split into two parallel directions. On one hand, there is a continued push toward immersive, highly visual environments — particularly for public-facing exhibitions, where there is an expectation of immediacy and impact.

On the other hand, I see the emergence of something more exclusive and bespoke: smaller-scale exhibitions designed for a more intimate audience. These experiences are often quieter and more personal, where the focus shifts from spectacle to depth, and from visibility to presence.