Kim Zhou
Kim Zhou (She/Her) is a scenic designer and interdisciplinary artist working primarily in stage design.
Trained initially in architectural design, she discovered her interest in theatrical space during a summer study in Italy—guided by architects and artist Doreen Balabanoff and Stuart Reid , where she encountered architecture not merely as structure, but as space shaped by time and memory.
Her practice extends across a range of scales and media, including theatrical productions, feature film art direction, and multimedia visual design. Alongside her design work, she maintains a long-term practice of poetry and essay writing.
She roots her practice in knowledge gained through the history of handcraft—not only for its tactile authenticity, but for the essential connection it forges between mind and hand in the act of making. Her design process examines how we relate to the archetypes underlying visual phenomena.
She is currently developing an independent research project based on sustained, iterative visits to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, examining representations of human hands as a lens for understanding the history of civilization and visual inquiry. (Research link forthcoming.)
She received her MFA in Scenic Design from the David Geffen School of Drama at Yale.
Recent design work includes The Far Country (Yale Repertory Theatre), Sex and Abbey (The Brick Theatre), Love and Information (LaGuardia Performing Arts Center), The Baroness (Playhouse on Park), and Noises Off (Legacy Theatre).
She has also served as associate designer to Walt Spangler on a confidential Shanghai Disneyland project (opening 2026); assistant designer to Michael Yeargan on Millions (Alliance Theatre); assistant designer to Mikiko Suzuki MacAdams on Clueless (West End, Trafalgar Theatre); and graphic artist for projection on Yellow Face (Todd Haimes Theatre, Broadway). Additional associate work includes Henry IV (Theatre for a New Audience).
CV available upon request.
The Stage Space - A Small Manifesto, or Contemplation
A space on stage has many inhabitants.
It’s a space for light, to travel through paths, to improvise a lively dance, to hide in shadows of mystery, to accent the harshness, or to touch a surface and evoke consolation.
It’s a space for the acoustic, navigating how sound echoes within the space, which is by itself a musical instrument of different configurations and materials. Wood or metal, chamber or tunnel, they each inherit a distinguished acoustic quality.
It’s a space for actors to live in. In fact, their footsteps give the ground a name. They stumble on an uneven floor, floundering in mud and water, to jump for joy and make melodious sounds or amble along the street on a silent and tranquil night. The words with the specific vibrations name the air; the space that connects them with the sublime, the dreams, the wasteland of a barren and eager soul, or the trap of captivity, death, and despair.
It’s a space to give the most mundane objects a moment to manifest their beings so that we realize a chair is never merely a chair as we’ve always seen. We see poetry when a timely rain washes off the hardship and pain or a quivering flame of a candle telling a devastating story with a glimmer of hope. So that the audience can create a rainfall or lighten a match inside themself one day when they need it.
The stage is a space to recreate insightful seeings of humanity through a synthesis of art forms, from life towards something beyond.
How could we create a common space for these inhabitants to be alive?
Dec.1st, 2021