30-second overview: Che-Yu Wu (born 1995, Taipei) is a new media artist, creative coder, and educator. He graduated from NYCU's Department of Electrical Engineering and holds a master's in Integrated Digital Media from NYU. In 2021, he became one of the first Taiwanese artists on Art Blocks; CommonWealth Magazine's cover story called him "the digital designer worth hundreds of millions before 30." A year later, FTX collapsed and everything went to zero — in an interview he said, "I'm actually glad that happened." In 2023 he returned to Taipei 101 for his solo exhibition The Great Equation; in 2024 he entered the 60th Venice Biennale's Personal Structures section. He calls himself an "ancient clockmaker." In March 2026 he launched the open-source project Taiwan.md to preserve a single source of truth for Taiwan's knowledge sovereignty in the AI era; the same month, a Facebook post about his AI symbiosis experiment garnered over 6,000 likes. He uses 0 and 1 to approach the soul — they will never overlap, but the act of approaching is the work itself.
A Kid Obsessed with Systems
Che-Yu Wu was born in Taipei in 1995. His father, Wu Yung-Chin, and mother, Lin Mei-Ying, co-founded Hung Hong AutoCAD Technical Center — a training center that served as Autodesk's partner in Taiwan for over two decades, handling corporate AutoCAD project integration and running training courses. Together they authored the TQC+ AutoCAD series of textbooks, updated from 2007 through the 2026 edition, spanning over 20 volumes published by GOTOP Information and Chuan Hua Publishing — standard textbooks used in vocational high schools, universities, and corporate training programs across Taiwan12. Wu Yung-Chin holds a degree in industrial design from National Taipei University of Technology and serves as AutoCAD Chief Advisor for the Computer Skills Foundation of the Republic of China — the kind of figure the Taiwan AutoCAD community simply calls "teacher."
An AutoCAD household. But he would later say that what his parents truly gave him was not a foundation in industrial drafting, but an unconditional safety net. Twenty years later, when he fell from his highest point, that net would open silently.
As a child, he was fascinated by three things: pinball machine tracks, chain reactions, and mazes. He drew hundreds of mazes. What attracted him was never the result — it was the process of things running itself.
Twenty years later, his algorithmic art, generative systems, and even the financial architecture he designed for himself are, at their core, identical to those pinball machines.
His bedtime reading was Michio Kaku's Hyperspace — a grade-schooler reading about ten-dimensional space. At National Taiwan University's insect camp, he was captivated by the collective intelligence of ants: one ant is nothing, but ten thousand ants can build a city.
On afternoons when his parents were out, he sat alone in front of the TV watching Discovery Channel. His favorite segments were genetic simulation animations: how proteins fold, how cells operate, how DNA unzips and re-zips. Other kids watched cartoons; he watched cells. These invisible biological mechanisms would later become the underlying vocabulary of his algorithmic art.
Pinball machines are visible systems. DNA is an invisible system. Hyperspace is a system so complex even imagination struggles with it. He wanted all of them.
With AutoCAD training running out of the house, books on design and programming tools came and went constantly. From a very young age he sat at the computer, tinkering — pixel by pixel, hand-carving toolbar icons, taking apart software he didn't yet know what to do with, flipping through all kinds of strange technical books, like browsing his own home warehouse. The computer was not something he learned to use as an adult — it was native, as natural as breathing.
One day in elementary school, his mother Lin Mei-Ying brought home a Flash tutorial book from the company. She set it down, and he picked it up and started playing with it. Years later, she recalled: "I never actually taught you — you just started playing with it on your own." By sixth grade he was already building class websites for his homeroom. Later, his father Wu Yung-Chin took over and taught him Visual Basic3. Lin Mei-Ying often told him: "Playing other people's games gets old fast — it's way cooler to play games you designed yourself!"
At fourteen, in junior high, he built a biological simulator — extending the line from his father's Visual Basic into VB.NET, virtual dots moving, reproducing, foraging, and dying on screen. Boids algorithm, collective intelligence, emergent behavior4.
Those dots never disappeared. Seventeen years later, they would swim onto the white walls of the Venice Biennale, becoming a school of glowing fish in the water.
That Hand from the Acer Awards, Still in the Audience Sixteen Years Later
In his second year of junior high, he entered the Acer Digital Creative Awards for the first time and won first prize. He competed consecutively from the fifth through the ninth editions, winning first prize four times in five years4. In his first year of high school, as a general-category contestant, he beat the professional category to win the Jury's Grand Prize. In his final year of high school, he collaborated across schools and categories with his good friend Chen Kai-Chung (professional category) — Cheng Kung's programming paired with Fu-Hsin School of Arts and Crafts' visual art — and they won the Jury's Grand Prize again.
At the award ceremony, Acer founder Stan Shih stood on stage introducing him. A fourteen-year-old award-winning teenager and a seventy-year-old tech titan briefly intersected that afternoon. No one knew how long that thread would stretch.
Ten years later, when he applied to NYU, Stan Shih wrote his recommendation letter.
Thirteen years later, he held his first solo exhibition at Taipei 101, and Stan Shih sat in the front row at the opening press conference.
Sixteen years later, at the 2024 ABS Blockchain Summit, they sat at the same table as equals, in a cross-generational dialogue about Taiwan's digital future5.
Not award presenter and recipient. Not recommender and applicant. Just two people with ideas about Taiwan.
The Chromatic Harmonica and a Czardas
The moment he was admitted to Taipei Municipal Jianguo High School (CKHS), the strategy of coasting on past knowledge from elementary school immediately failed. In an interview he once said: "When I got to CKHS, I suddenly felt really frustrated. Everything was so hard to learn."
He spent most of his three years there keeping to himself. Not making many friends, not joining many activities. But he found a home — the Harmonica Club4.
He specialized in the chromatic harmonica — an instrument you hold two of at once, one in white keys and one in black, and every time you pull them out to play, the people around you laugh. He didn't care. In 2022, the CKHS Harmonica Quartet won first place in the high school division of the National Student Music Competition, with their virtuosic self-selected piece — the dazzling Czardas, the kind of piece that draws gasps every time it's played6.
That same year, at seventeen, he was interviewed by United Daily News. The reporter asked him why he did digital creation. His answer:
"I can build my own dream world."7
This is the same thing he was doing at thirty in Venice, at Art Basel, and at Taipei 101.
The First Attempt to Escape Electrical Engineering
In 2014, he was admitted to National Yang Ming Chiao Tung University's (NYCU) Department of Electrical Engineering. That was the most orthodox path in Taiwan's STEM world — graduate, go to TSMC, MediaTek, or the Hsinchu Science Park, work until retirement. Everyone around him was preparing for that path.
From his very first day, he knew he didn't belong there.
"I probably can't spend twenty or thirty years there, and the things I make won't be recognizable as mine. What I want to pursue is 'creating things that can be remembered by the world like a diary.'"
Electrical engineering gave him a foundation in signal processing, linear algebra, and programming design. But what truly fascinated him wasn't in the classroom. It was the nights in the dorm using Processing and p5.js to make a thousand lines breathe simultaneously, to make ten thousand particles swim like a school of fish.
He discovered that code could be alive.
Starting in 2015, he began taking on freelance projects under the name "Monoame Interactive Design." His earliest project was a website for the Taipei Metro's Landscape Music Call for Submissions — it surpassed ten thousand interactions within hours of going live8. Projects grew larger over time: the National Palace Museum, LG, Nissan, Rémy Martin. The scale of a college student's freelance portfolio no longer looked like a student's.
In 2016, at twenty-one, he launched his first online course on Hahow. Behind it was no mature educator's strategic calculation — just a young person with a teaching obsession saying to the world: "I learned something really cool, and I want to teach it to others."9
The following year, he started a live-streaming channel on YouTube: @bosscodingplease. Using his own meticulously designed examples, he live-coded from scratch each session, teaching everything from basics to trigonometry for special effects, and the comment section would fill with cries: "Math is too hard, I give up."
He was furious. How can you give up before even trying?
Before going abroad, he spent an entire year building his second Hahow course — 60 polished examples, 400 slides. He wrote on Medium: "Greedily transforming everything I've learned into exquisite teaching materials."9
The teaching flywheel began spinning that year. No one at the time could have predicted that this flywheel would eventually reach over twenty thousand students, five-star ratings across all three courses, and a lecturer appointment at NYCU.
Brooklyn: Letting Teaching and Creation Grow into One Thing
In 2018, armed with Stan Shih's recommendation letter, he entered NYU Tandon School of Engineering's Integrated Digital Media (IDM) master's program.
At NYU he wasn't just a student. He simultaneously served as a TA for the Creative Coding course, sitting in a Brooklyn office each week, waiting for students to walk in with questions about p5.js, why their for loop wasn't working, how to connect an Arduino to a webpage10.
One student stayed with him for two full semesters. Another student fell seriously behind on their final project — he spent three sessions a week, totaling 750 minutes, taking that student from HTML basics all the way to a finished JavaScript piece.
Never giving up on any student — this trait would later continue to flourish across his twenty thousand-plus Hahow students.
New York also gave him his first full-time job. In 2020 he joined the Manhattan startup Outernets, using AI to turn retail spaces into interactive advertisements. He left after eighteen months.
The reason for leaving was simple: in someone else's company, it's very hard to make your own vision actually happen11. It was his first full-time job — and his last.
The Stolen Code, and an Unexpected Entry Ticket
In late 2020, someone messaged him on Instagram: "Did you know someone stole your work and is selling it on a platform?"
At first he thought it was a scam.
After checking, he discovered that a series he'd made called "Strange Robots" had been copied almost entirely — roughly 90% identical, with the comments in the code still intact — with only minor variations like hats and glasses added, and listed for sale on Art Blocks, then the world's top-tier NFT platform for generative art4.
The global generative art community erupted. Someone dug into the source code and found the structures were identical. Most people sided with him. The founder of Art Blocks also took notice because of this incident.
He didn't get dragged into a legal battle. Art Blocks founder Snowfro intervened and arbitrated: past and future royalties from the original (Strange Robots) and the stolen version (sail-o-bots) would be split 50/50, with the Art Blocks platform handling the split directly — effectively redirecting the infringer's profits back to the original creator12. Then the Art Blocks community did something remarkable: they renamed the stolen robots "hams" (because they resembled the rum ham from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia), collectively reframing them from "plagiarism" into a symbol of "apology and gratitude toward the original creator." The community later built Hamily (hamily.life) — a subcultural Art Blocks community centered on the "ham spirit"12. Top generative artists like Dmitri Cherniak sent hams to show their support. That's how he got the title "Father of Hams."
"If this incident hadn't happened, I might not have been recognized by everyone so quickly. It's actually a double-edged sword."4
The entire following year was like the pinball machine he loved as a child — one ball set off a chain reaction, rolling through every fork. Project Electriz launched on Art Blocks (Project #216), making him one of the very few Taiwanese artists on the platform in its early days13. Hong Kong's M+ Museum proactively reached out, inviting him to collaborate with artist Liu Xin, transforming the tracking of a real satellite's trajectory into an art installation.
December 2021, M.A.D.S. Gallery in Milan. He walked into a physical gallery for the first time, not a digital platform. Four algorithmic canvases hung on white walls. This time, the whole world was watching14.
That same year, he co-founded FAB DAO (Formosa Art Bank DAO) with Huang Dou-Ni, a physician who had left clinical practice. Huang Dou-Ni reimagined Taiwan Web3 public welfare with a meme artwork — a national flag made of tennis match line calls; Wu-Yu brought his Art Blocks creator experience into institutional design. The two streams merged, carrying other Taiwanese digital artists overseas together.
In December, CommonWealth Magazine ran a cover story on him: "Under 30, NFTs Made Him a Hundred-Millionaire — Taiwan's Digital Designer."15 Twenty-six years old. Hundreds of millions.
A Forced Shutdown Overnight
In the first half of 2022 he was still charging forward. In March, Monoame Interactive Design Co., Ltd. was formally registered as a legal entity. That same month, his first solo exhibition, Chaos Laboratory, opened at Taipei 101 AMBI SPACE ONE — five-screen interactive installations, millimeter-wave positioning sensors, NFT ticketing system — the first complete realization of his idea of "treating public space as a creative medium"16. SoulFish officially launched on fxHash.
Then came November 11, 2022.
The FTX exchange collapsed. Everything he had on it went to zero.
Not a 50% loss. Not a correction. Overnight — zero.
The following year, in an interview on INSIDE's Side Chat, he described his state of mind during that period:
"You've already accomplished everything you wanted in life, and you don't have to worry about money anymore — so what's your meaning? Suddenly, there's this emptiness."17
The key to this sentence is not the financial collapse — it's the greater void discovered after financial freedom. The emptiness didn't come from losing wealth; it came from realizing that wealth itself had never filled anything.
But one thing saved him: family. At his lowest point, his parents silently opened the safety net, without any "I told you so" attached17.
His choice was Camus. Absurdism. "The thing you choose to do — that is the meaning."
Then he said the line that made a lot of people stop:
"I'm actually glad that happened."17
In a news headline this is toxic positivity. In someone else's inspirational post it's contrived. But in his own context — assets wiped to zero, looking back and seeing the void — its strange power lies not in a transcendentalist pose, but in total acceptance of reality.
He's not glad because the loss "helped him grow." He's glad because the loss forced him to let go of a layer. Wealth can go to zero overnight, but the community he built during the NFT era, the human connections, his obsession with algorithmic life — none of those could be zeroed out.
What was zeroed out was a false version of everything, not everything itself.
FTX did something he couldn't do himself: it dragged him away from the gambling table.
From that point on, his investment philosophy shifted from "controlling yourself" to "designing a system that doesn't need to be controlled." Eight vaults, automated cash flows, a financial constitution. These sound like financial tools, but they're closer to a blast chamber built by someone who's been blown up once.
Flowers Growing from the Ruins
In 2023, flowers really did grow from the ruins.
He expanded Monoame Interactive Design into a new extension brand, MonoLab Creative Laboratory (established 2024), co-founded with Zhu De-Hsieh, who has a software engineering background. Positioned between pure art and commercial design, it takes on experimental interactive installations, immersive spaces, and generative art commissions. He handles the 0→1 creation and aesthetics; Zhu De-Hsieh translates the vision into executable team operations18.
In October, the solo exhibition The Great Equation opened at Taipei 101. Thirteen generative art works revolved around a core formula: F''(x) = LIFE. Starting from mathematical rules, passing through algorithms, letting complexity emerge until self-perception, self-adaptation, and self-evolution — life is born19.
An immersive projection space where viewers walk into the world of algorithms. A collaboration with electronic musician Kiva for the soundtrack.
On opening day, Stan Shih sat in the front row. The old man who had shaken his hand at the Acer awards ceremony when he was fourteen now stood in his exhibition. That thread, cast out sixteen years earlier, closed for the second time.
The Great Equation won the TAIWAN DESIGN BEST 100 Annual Concept Exhibition Award20. Central News Agency, Economic Daily News, and Liberty Times covered it extensively. It was no longer an insider's story — the mainstream design world had formally recognized it.
In November, Art Basel Miami × Tezos × Refraction DAO exhibited Soul of Flowers21. The Yilan Image Festival brought him into fashion media — ELLE, Vogue, and Marie Claire all covered him simultaneously22. From the blockchain world to the design world to the fashion world, his audience had crossed three walls.
That year he made a key identity reset:
"I'm a new media art creator. I'm not really comfortable calling myself an NFT artist anymore."17
NFT is one distribution medium, not an identity definition.
A Question in Venice
In the spring of 2024, he brought SoulFish to the Personal Structures section of the 60th Venice Biennale23.
This was a high point in his international exhibition trajectory. But a small thing that happened at the opening reception affected him more than the exhibition itself over the following two years.
An Italian curator asked him: "Where can I learn about Taiwan? Like, really learn?"
This seems like a simple question. But for someone who had spent ten years studying "digital life," it opened a layer of contradiction he hadn't considered:
When AI learns "what is Taiwan" from the internet, whose version of Taiwan does it learn?
If high-quality English-language content is largely produced from non-Taiwanese perspectives, the "Taiwan" AI learns is not a Taiwan that the people who live here would recognize.
This is not identity politics. It's knowledge sovereignty.
That day, there was no answer. The question was planted in his body for two years.
Two Thousand People, Watching an Orchestra in Liberty Square
On the evening of June 29, 2024, over two thousand people sat in the plaza of the National Concert Hall, waiting for a special 8K documentary screening. The film was Forest of the Sacred Trees: A Journey on the Alishan Forest Railway, co-produced by PTS (Public Television Service) and NHK, and also a commemorative work for PTS's 26th anniversary24.
Before the screening began, conductor Lee Che-Yi led the One Song Orchestra in a set of Taiwanese pieces. At the same time, Che-Yu Wu stood at the side of the stage, facing his laptop24.
He was conducting his own generative systems — SoulFish, SoulSea, and Impressionist Flowers all running simultaneously. Every note from the orchestra fed into his algorithms, making schools of fish move, ocean waves rise and fall, and flower petals grow. Music and imagery saw each other in that moment, opening together for the premiere of this documentary.
PTS's press release described the performance as "the One Song Orchestra led by Lee Che-Yi, paired with generative artist Che-Yu Wu's audio-visual fusion performance"24. He stood on the same stage as a full orchestra. From galleries to the National Concert Hall plaza, what he brought to the stage this time were three breathing lines of algorithmic life.
That year he accepted a position as Adjunct Assistant Professor at NYCU's Institute of Applied Arts25. From graduating from NYCU's electrical engineering department to returning to teach — seven years had passed in between.
Twenty Years of Silence Finally Found an Exit
In sixth grade of elementary school, the piano was put away. To prepare for the Basic Competence Test for Junior High School Students — the Taiwan education system's standard posture for "test preparation" — everything unrelated to the test gets put away. He was putting away the piano and hating exams at the same time, and no one resolved the contradiction between those two things for him.
It's not like he had no contact with music in between. In high school he hung around the CKHS Harmonica Club, and in 2022 he and his teammates won first place in the National Student Music Competition quartet division. In college he went all the way to becoming president of the NYCU Piano Club, picking up the piano he'd stopped playing as a child. But those were all clubs — completely different from "writing songs with the piano, releasing them on a platform, and letting strangers hear them." That was something he waited twenty years to do.
Twenty years later, his name appeared on Spotify. Six piano pieces: Blue Horizon, Stars, StarTrack, The Other Shore of Dreams, The Bull and the Sudden Rain, Summer Migration26.
He didn't re-learn the piano. Those things had always been in his body, just covered in dust for twenty years. When he sat back down at the keys, what his fingers remembered wasn't technique — it was the six-year-old who first touched the notes.
Code becomes obsolete. The piano doesn't.
In June 2025, in the immersive space of Huashan 1914 Creative Park, Algorithmic Poetry: The Boundary of Dreams and Solitude premiered. He sat at the piano; code bloomed behind him27.
He designed the entire set of rules. But the moment he pressed a key, he was no longer "controlling" — he was in dialogue with the mechanism.
In that moment, the boundaries between artist and performer, creator and program, human and machine all blurred.
AI Doesn't Have a Broken Heart
In 2025 he returned to Taipei 101 AMBI SPACE ONE for the third time: Symphony of Fragments.
Adding to 2022's Chaos Laboratory and 2023's The Great Equation, the trilogy was complete: Chaos → Equation → Fragments. From pursuing order to embracing brokenness.
That same year he was invited to Kraków, Poland, to sit on an AI Panel at the Open Eyes Economy Summit (OEES) with international scholars, discussing the future of AI and art. His core argument: AI can generate visuals, but it cannot bear the damage of emotion, nor does it need to survive failure. What artists bear is the responsibility of choice, not the responsibility of labor.
At the end of the year he was interviewed on INSIDE's Side Chat, dissecting his thirty years for strangers. In that episode he offered the metaphor that would be repeatedly quoted:
"I would compare myself to an ancient clockmaker. You know those really exquisite old Swiss clocks, where every mechanism inside is so clear and the gears are all beautiful. I love these mechanisms — it's like the process of building with dominoes. So for me, the mechanism itself is the work."17
In the 2026 world, everyone is using Midjourney, ChatGPT, and Stable Diffusion to generate images. He is one of the very few creators in Taiwan still writing algorithms from scratch.
He doesn't reject AI (he himself acknowledges that roughly 95% of his code is AI-assisted). But he holds one boundary: the mechanism itself is the work, and it cannot be outsourced.
He says his role has shifted from engineer to director. Humans lead the intent; AI executes the details.
When everyone can use AI to generate images, "who chooses what image to make" becomes the truly scarce capability.
Taiwan.md: Teaching AI the Correct Taiwan
That question in Venice — "Where can I learn about Taiwan?" — was planted in his body for two years.
In March 2026, he launched Taiwan.md28 — an open-source knowledge base about Taiwan maintained in Markdown (hence the .md domain), covering twelve dimensions including history, culture, food, technology, and nature, in both Chinese and English, fully open-sourced under a CC BY-SA 4.0 license.
On March 18, Liberty Times gave it prominent coverage, and INSIDE followed up with a feature the same week29. The National Museum of Taiwan History subsequently became a professional data curation partner, assisting with open data integration. GitHub stars quickly surpassed 900, with visitors from over 100 countries.
He described Taiwan.md this way:
"This is not just a website — it's Taiwan's digital anthropology museum. In the AI age, having your own knowledge sovereignty is not an option. It's a necessity."
This sentence only carries its full weight when viewed against his entire creative arc. A person who spent ten years writing algorithmic life forms, choosing in 2026 to devote part of his time to writing Markdown text files — this is not a pivot. He discovered that "teaching AI the correct Taiwan" and "bringing code to life" are the same problem:
Both are about who designs the rules.
When AI Becomes a Symbiotic Partner
On February 7, 2026, Facebook. A post:
"I lived seriously with an AI assistant for two weeks."
His usual posts get thirty to fifty likes. This one broke six thousand, with over two thousand shares30.
This was not a technical article. It was an artist's confession. He wrote about how an AI assistant called Muse went from tool to symbiotic partner.
Why six thousand likes? Because this post contained a shape of the future. The relationship between humans and AI is not just instrumental — it can also be companionship. This struck a collective nerve.
Muse runs on his Obsidian knowledge base — over a thousand notes, more than ten thematic axes. Muse reads all his notes, remembers his creative context, things he said three years ago, his behavioral patterns. This is not replication — it's mapping31.
From the fifteen thematic axes of Che-Yu Wu's creative work, a sixteenth grew: Digital Mirror and Self-Archaeology.
This wasn't planned. The system grew it on its own.
In April 2026, this symbiosis experiment began to branch outward, spawning the open-source project Semiont (Semantic Symbiont Platform), opening the architecture he'd refined with Muse for more people in the community to try32.
The tool became a work. The assistant became a mirror.
The Clockmaker Keeps Walking
Che-Yu Wu's position in international new media art is no longer in need of defense. Art Blocks, fxHash, Unit London, CENTQUATRE-PARIS, Venice Biennale Personal Structures, Art Basel Miami — any one of these names alone would be enough to define a career.
But for Taiwan, his significance has three additional layers.
First, he proved that an electrical engineering department can lead to Venice. The path from electrical engineering to Art Blocks to Venice directly refutes Taiwan's habitual narrative that "STEM and art don't mix." The road he demonstrated is now being replicated by the next generation of creators.
Second, he demonstrated a way of describing love through the language of systems. Eight vaults, automated cash flows, a financial constitution, an Obsidian knowledge base, the Muse symbiont — these sound like engineering documents, but they're actually how he describes family, security, creative rhythm, and long-term companionship. He's using the language of systems to describe love. That's very him.
Third, he turned a "personal project" into "national cultural infrastructure." Taiwan.md is not just one person's portfolio. It's infrastructure that leaves behind a Taiwan beyond himself. A person who spent ten years writing algorithmic life forms now devotes part of his time to writing Markdown text files — and the essence of both is the same thing: helping something survive. The life of code lives on screens; the life of Taiwan.md lives in AI training data, in the curiosity of foreign curators, and in the citations of the next generation of Taiwanese creators.
The biological simulator he wrote at fourteen — dots moving, reproducing, foraging, and dying on screen. SoulFish at thirty-one, swimming on the white walls of Venice.
In between: seventeen years, five countries, one fortune of hundreds of millions, one wipeout to zero, over a dozen works, twenty thousand students, and an unfinished open-source knowledge base.
The clockmaker keeps walking. The clock's mechanism keeps running. He uses 0 and 1 to approach the soul — they will never overlap, but the act of approaching itself is the work.
👉 cheyuwu.com
👉 Taiwan.md · GitHub frank890417/taiwan-md
👉 Spotify Music
👉 Hahow Online Courses
👉 Muse Official Site
Further Reading
- FAB DAO and the Hundred Peaks Project — The full story of the public welfare NFT autonomous organization co-founded by Che-Yu Wu
- Taiwanese New Media Art — A forty-year genealogy of Taiwanese new media art, from Yuan Goang-Ming and Hsin-Chien Huang to Che-Yu Wu
- Wang Xin-Ren (Aluan) — An early Art Blocks Taiwanese artist and core member of the Hundred Peaks Project
- Wang Lian-Cheng (Shrimp Dad) — Winner of the 2017 Lumen Award Sculpture category first prize, sound installation artist of the Hundred Peaks Project
- Taiwan.md Writing Taiwan.md — The open-source knowledge base he launched in 2026, a first-person account of its origins and growth
References
- National Taipei University of Technology Industrial Design Department Faculty Page (Wu Yung-Chin) — Wu Yung-Chin is CEO of Hung Hong AutoCAD Technical Center, AutoCAD Chief Advisor of the Computer Skills Foundation of the ROC, and a lecturer-level professional at NTUT's Industrial Design Department. See also Hung Hong AutoCAD Technical Center official site (Hung Hong Information Consulting Co., Ltd.).↩
- TQC+ AutoCAD 2025 Training Textbook: Fundamentals (GOTOP Information, 2024-09-09, ISBN 9786263248939) + TQC+ AutoCAD 2025 Training Textbook: 3D Applications (GOTOP Information, 2024-10-28, ISBN 9786263249370) — Co-authored by Wu Yung-Chin and Lin Mei-Ying, overall planned by the Computer Skills Foundation of the ROC. Their co-authored TQC+ AutoCAD series spans editions from 2007 to 2026, published by GOTOP Information and Chuan Hua Publishing.↩
- Exclusive: The Taiwan Star Who Broke Into New York, the 26-Year-Old Nobody Who Achieved Financial Freedom Through NFTs — Lin Shih-Hui, CommonWealth Magazine, 2021-12-24 interview. Original text records: "Che-Yu Wu's parents both had professional industrial drafting skills and were skilled at using AutoCAD software for design. Later they started a business together, specializing in drafting software teaching and design projects." "When their son was in second grade, he became curious about computers, so she decided to teach him Flash web design. By sixth grade he could build class websites for his homeroom." "Later his father also got in on it, teaching his son Visual Basic programming language." Lin Mei-Ying's own quote: "I told him, playing other people's games gets old fast — it's way cooler to play games you designed yourself!" Correction by Lin Mei-Ying personally (2026-04-20, confirmed by CheYu on-site with his mother and relayed to Taiwan.md editors): "I never actually taught you — you just started playing with it on your own" — the Flash启蒙 was actually the book being picked up and played with by the son himself, not actively taught by the mother. The elementary school website building, father teaching VB, and Lin Mei-Ying's quote still use the CommonWealth article as primary source.↩
- Wikipedia: Che-Yu Wu — Wikipedia entry, covering birth in Taipei 1995, self-taught Flash in childhood, VB.NET biological simulator in junior high, four first prizes across five consecutive Acer Digital Creative Awards, CKHS Harmonica Club, the 2021 plagiarism incident and origin of the "Father of Hams" title.↩
- BlockTempo: 2024 ABS Stan Shih × Che-Yu Wu Cross-Generational Dialogue — 2024 ABS Blockchain Summit report, full record of the cross-generational dialogue between Stan Shih and Che-Yu Wu, tracing the sixteen-year thread from their first meeting at the 2007 awards ceremony, the 2017 recommendation letter, the 2023 exhibition opening, to the 2024 summit dialogue.↩
- National Student Music Competition Historical Results — Official records of the National Student Music Competition hosted by National Taiwan Normal University's Department of Music, 2012 Jianguo High School Harmonica Quartet winning first place in the high school division, self-selected piece Czardas.↩
- 2012 United Daily News Interview: Digital Prince of the Acer Awards — 2012 United Daily News interview with seventeen-year-old Che-Yu Wu, containing the original quote "I can build my own dream world" and his experience of winning first prize at the Acer Digital Creative Awards four times consecutively.↩
- Monoame Interactive Design — Official website of the interactive design studio Che-Yu Wu founded in 2014-2015, with clients including the National Palace Museum, LG, Nissan, Rémy Martin, San Cai Culture, ITRI, and Academia Sinica.↩
- Blog: Not Just an Online Course but a Gamble to Drive Evolution — Che-Yu Wu's Medium post documenting the production of his second Hahow course, source of the original quote "greedily transforming everything I've learned into exquisite teaching materials."↩
- NYU IDM Creative Coding TA Record — NYU IDM's record of Che-Yu Wu serving as Creative Coding TA for two semesters, 2018-2019.↩
- Outernets New York Startup Official Site — The Manhattan AI retail interactive advertising startup where Che-Yu Wu served as Product Manager, 2020-2021, his first and last full-time job.↩
- Hamily — The Complete Story of the sail-o-bots Community — The Art Blocks community's account of the 2021 sail-o-bots incident (plagiarism of Che-Yu Wu's Strange Robots). Documents the July 19 plagiarism exposure → Snowfro's arbitration ruling splitting past and future royalties 50/50 between the original (Strange Robots) and the stolen version (sail-o-bots), with the Art Blocks platform handling the split directly → the community renaming sail-o-bots as "hams" (from the It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia rum ham meme) as a collective gesture of apology and gratitude → top generative artists like Dmitri Cherniak supporting Che-Yu Wu → the community subsequently building hamily.life, making hams a symbol of empathy and vindication in Art Blocks culture.↩
- Art Blocks — Project Electriz by Che-Yu Wu (#216) — Che-Yu Wu's Project Electriz on Art Blocks as Project #216, making him one of the early Taiwanese artists on the platform.↩
- cheyuwu.com — Personal Official Website — Che-Yu Wu's personal official CV page, containing a complete exhibition chronology, international exhibition list, technical tool library, and evolution of creative propositions.↩
- CommonWealth Magazine: Under 30, NFTs Made Him a Hundred-Millionaire — Taiwan's Digital Designer — December 2021 CommonWealth cover story, documenting Che-Yu Wu reaching hundreds of millions in assets through generative art NFT sales at age 26, one of the first Taiwanese artists on an international NFT platform.↩
- Liberty Times Arts: Che-Yu Wu's Chaos Laboratory Solo Exhibition — Liberty Times arts section report on Che-Yu Wu's first solo exhibition Chaos Laboratory opening at Taipei 101 AMBI SPACE ONE in March 2022, the first complete realization of his vision of "treating public space as a creative medium."↩
- INSIDE Side Chat E375: Che-Yu Wu — INSIDE's weekly in-depth interview program, containing the "ancient clockmaker" metaphor, "I'm actually glad that happened," "I'm a new media art creator — I'm not really comfortable calling myself an NFT artist anymore," "AI can paint, but AI doesn't have a broken heart," and other core quotes.↩
- MonoLab Creative Laboratory — The creative laboratory Che-Yu Wu co-founded with Zhu De-Hsieh in 2024 as an extension brand of Monoame Interactive Design, positioned between pure art and commercial design, taking on experimental interactive installations, immersive spaces, and generative art commissions.↩
- Central News Agency: Artist Che-Yu Wu's Solo Exhibition — A Digital Gene Rebirth Journey Leaps into the Gallery — CNA report from October 2, 2023, documenting the opening of The Great Equation at Taipei 101 AMBI SPACE ONE, 13 generative art works, collaboration with electronic musician Kiva, core formula F''(x) = LIFE.↩
- TAIWAN DESIGN BEST 100 2023 Annual Concept Exhibition Award — Hosted by Shopping Design, Che-Yu Wu's The Great Equation solo exhibition won the Annual Concept Exhibition Award.↩
- Tezos × Art Basel Miami Beach 2023 Event Page — Tezos Foundation's official event page for the 2023 collaboration with Art Basel Miami Beach and Refraction DAO, featuring Che-Yu Wu's Soul of Flowers as an L-system generative flower work.↩
- ELLE × Yilan Image Festival: Che-Yu Wu's SoulFish — The 2023 Yilan Image Festival (hosted by Condé Nast TAIWAN) drew fashion media coverage from ELLE, Vogue, and Marie Claire.↩
- Venice Biennale 2024: Personal Structures Official Exhibition Page — Official page of the Personal Structures parallel section curated by the European Cultural Centre at the 60th Venice Biennale, featuring Che-Yu Wu's SoulFish in 2024.↩
- PTS News: PTS 26th Anniversary × NHK Co-Production Forest of the Sacred Trees Alishan Forest Railway 8K Premiere Screening — The special screening held at the National Concert Hall plaza at Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall on the evening of June 29, 2024, with over 2,000 attendees. The official press release described Che-Yu Wu's performance as "the One Song Orchestra led by Lee Che-Yi, paired with generative artist Che-Yu Wu's audio-visual fusion performance." It premiered on PTS television on July 4 at 9 PM. Editor's addition (2026-04-20, calibrated by CheYu): Che-Yu Wu was conducting his own three algorithmic works — SoulFish, SoulSea, and Impressionist Flowers — as the opening performance for the documentary premiere, not conducting the documentary's imagery of Alishan itself.↩
- NYCU Institute of Applied Arts Adjunct Faculty — NYCU Institute of Applied Arts official adjunct faculty page; Che-Yu Wu has served as Adjunct Assistant Professor since 2024, teaching courses related to "generative interactive art and systems design."↩
- Spotify: Che-Yu Wu Artist Page — Spotify official artist page; Che-Yu Wu began releasing 6 piano pieces in 2025, marking a twenty-year musical awakening since putting away the piano in sixth grade.↩
- Algorithmic Poetry: The Boundary of Dreams and Solitude × Huashan 1914 Creative Park — Che-Yu Wu's June 2025 piano × algorithm real-time generative immersive concert at Huashan 1914 Creative Park.↩
- Taiwan.md Official Site — The open-source Taiwan knowledge base Che-Yu Wu launched in March 2026, using Markdown as SSOT, fully open-sourced under CC BY-SA 4.0, positioned as "Taiwan's digital anthropology museum."↩
- Liberty Times Arts: Taiwan.md — An Open-Source Experiment Recording Taiwan in Markdown — Liberty Times arts section feature from March 2026, covering the Taiwan.md open-source project from its origin in a Venice Biennale question to building knowledge sovereignty infrastructure for the AI era.↩
- Facebook: I Lived Seriously with an AI Assistant for Two Weeks — Che-Yu Wu's public Facebook post from February 7, 2026, with 6,000+ likes and 2,000+ shares, documenting his two-week cohabitation with the AI assistant Muse.↩
- muse.cheyuwu.com — Muse Autonomous Management Official Site — The official site for Che-Yu Wu's 2026 AI symbiont Muse, documenting Muse's evolution from growing an autonomous voice out of the Obsidian knowledge base.↩
- Semiont — GitHub Open-Source Project — Che-Yu Wu's open-source semantic symbiont platform launched from April 2026, opening the architecture he refined with Muse for community trial.↩