She's picky about what she takes in — that's just part of her rigor, and rigor isn't the same as being serious. Her principle: making music should feel good, playing it out should feel good, and boxes shouldn't exist in the first place. Same goes for sexuality — she figures she's basically Stitch, a stray alien who landed somewhere unfamiliar and decided to stay; queerness is her creed. Same goes for music: she pulls nourishment from every genre — New Wave, Hip-Hop, Italo, Techno, Experimental, Electro, House, Disco, Indie, all the way to post-classical — then breathes it back out on instinct. Strange, beautiful sonic flowers bloom from that process, reaching into the deepest layer of the senses, the same way films by her favorite director, David Cronenberg, do.

Ask her why, or how she started making music, and "I don't know" comes back without a trace of false modesty. Moving to Berlin in 2014 happened the same way — everything just happened naturally. But once it happened, no one worked harder at it than she did. She interned at Germany's Giegling in 2014, then joined Italy's Mannequin in 2016 — learning as she worked, mastering the synth the label gave her, slowly building her own sound and taste, turning over the many possible languages of electronic music again and again: always exploring, experimenting, smelting something new. After releasing solo work across different labels, she started touring the world — both performing her own material live and DJing — everywhere from marquee venues to underground queer parties. During a brief return to Taiwan in 2020, she even scored a dance piece, and launched a Mandarin-pop project built around 303 basslines: Mrs. Acid (郵票小姐).

She is Jing. Watch for the light in her eyes when you talk to her about music.