Art Exhibitions Art and Culture Events Art explorations

What Happens When Art Enters a Biotech Lab? Xiang Li Art at LabCentral in Kendall Square, Cambridge MA

April 13, 2026 · Tripti Gore Chandorkar

Introduction

There is something quietly beautiful about arriving at the end of something.

Not at the opening, when the room is full and the energy is outward. But at the closing, when the space softens, when the conversations have faded, and what remains is something more intimate, more reflective.

I did not attend the reception for Xiang Li’s exhibition at Gallery 1832 inside LabCentral in Kendall Square. Instead, I found myself there on the final day, when the paintings were being taken down.

And in many ways, it felt like the perfect moment to arrive.

A Different Kind of Gallery

LabCentral Gallery 1832, as I found out, is not where you expect to encounter art.

It is a living, working ecosystem – home to biotech startups, scientists, and innovators immersed in research, experimentation, and discovery. The corridors are not designed for quiet contemplation in the traditional sense. They are built for movement, for urgency, for ideas in motion.

And yet, along these very corridors, there is art as part of Gallery 1832. Gallery 1832 exists not as a separate destination, but as a presence woven into the everyday lives of the people who work there, the researchers & scientists working on early-stage biotech startups. It rotates exhibitions every few months, bringing in local artists whose work quietly accompanies the rhythm of scientific inquiry.

The intention as I understand, is simple, yet profound:
to invite those working in structured, analytical environments to step – if only briefly, into a different way of seeing. Here, art is not an event. It is a companion.

It was also on this visit that I had the chance to briefly meet Shazia Mir, the curator and creative strategist behind Gallery 1832. There was a quiet warmth about her presence – unassuming, yet deeply thoughtful. In many ways, it felt reflective of the gallery itself.

Spaces like this do not come together by accident. They are shaped by individuals who understand that creativity does not belong to one discipline alone, but lives in the intersections, between art and science, between observation and imagination. Through her curation, that philosophy becomes something you can walk through, almost without realizing it.

Chinese Empresses in an Unexpected World

Xiang Li’s Chinese Empress series lived in this space from January through the end of March this year.

Rendered on silk with a delicacy that feels both ancient and immediate, these paintings carry with them layers of history and feminine presence and strength. Empresses, celestial beings, and symbolic creatures emerge through flowing lines and luminous color – each figure existing somewhere between the earthly and the divine. And there they were, almost improbably, in Kendall Square.

Surrounded by glass-walled labs, modern workspaces, and the quiet hum of scientific ambition. At first, the contrast feels striking. But the longer you stand there, the more it begins to dissolve.

Because what these works bring into the space is not contradiction, but expansion. A reminder that not all knowledge is measured. That not all understanding is linear. That creativity, whether in art or science, often begins in the same place: curiosity.

These empresses were not out of place.
They were simply… unexpected. Much like scientific discovery itself.

The Day the Walls Began to Empty

When I arrived, the process had already begun. The paintings were being gently unhooked from the walls, one by one. The gallery, which had held color and presence for weeks, was slowly returning to stillness.

There is a particular kind of quiet that exists in these moments. No announcements. No gathering. No ceremony. Just the careful, deliberate act of taking something down while the residents of the office space are going about their daily routines.

And then, unexpectedly, I found myself becoming a part of that process.

The Ritual of Preservation

I was there with Fei, Xiang Li’s daughter, and my friend.

What followed was not something I had anticipated, but something I will carry with me for a long time. She showed me how to take down a Chinese watercolor silk painting from the wall.

How to handle it, not just physically, but with intention.
How to begin rolling it slowly, evenly, respecting the material, the paint, the form.

There was no rush in this process. Each movement felt deliberate. Almost meditative.

The silk responded softly under my hands, the painted surface disappearing into itself as it was rolled inward. And then, finally, it was tied carefully and secured for storage, for transport, for its next journey.

In that moment, it became clear: Art is not only in the act of creation. It lives equally in how it is cared for.

This was not just a technique.
It was a transmission of knowledge, quietly passed from artist to daughter, and in that moment, to me. A reminder that some traditions are not preserved in museums or manuals, but in gestures, in repetition, in presence through friends.

A Quiet Realization for the Architect in Me

After my visit to LabCentral, where I experienced the display of Xiang Li’s paintings, and as I sat down to write this piece, I found myself holding onto a quiet new understanding.

I have always known that art does not require a traditional gallery to carry meaning. Throughout my working life, I’ve encountered powerful works lining office hallways and inhabiting high-stakes conference rooms. And yet, this felt different.

What shifted for me was the realization that art can be placed with intention – within spaces of work, of thought, of invention, of discovery – not as decoration, but as something that gently expands the way we see.

Perhaps that is the deeper purpose behind a space like Gallery 1832.
Not to separate art from life, but to place it directly within it.

A Quiet Ending, A Lasting Impression

I did not attend the opening. But in witnessing the closing, I came away with something deeper.

A quieter understanding. That sometimes, it is not in the beginning of things, but in their unfolding, and their gentle ending, that we see them most clearly.