It is 3 in the afternoon on a scorching, sunny afternoon in Paris, but inside a large underground space inside the Palais de Tokyo art gallery, it feels like night.

Transcendental beats boom around a room filled with kitsch paraphernalia, like a stone pond decorated with bling, while skinny, almost skeletal-looking bodies, dressed in psychedelic bodysuits and sporting strange hairdos, writhe in a sort of experimental dance on screen, to a backdrop of cosmic looking light displays showing on some of the half-dozen screens placed inside this gallery.

Two scary-looking creatures that look like over-sized E.T. relatives, but painted a pale skin color, adorn the entrance hall, welcoming the smattering of visitors to what Chinese artist Tianzhuo Chen describes as a temple to a new religion, celebrating bad taste and provocation. Included inside are icons inspired by masturbation and glass dope inhalers.

Chen’s first solo exhibition outside of his native China, which runs until September 13, is a celebration of everything the controversial artist holds dear. Think counter culture and subversive sexual practices, like fetish or freak shows or queer hip-hop that the Central Saint Martin’s graduate learned about during his London studies in the 1980s.

“I used to go to lots of raves during my student days,” he says.

It hardly sounds like something that China’s strict authorities would embrace. But empowered by his alternative experiences and the weirdness glimpsed and gleaned whilst he was in the British capital, he has returned to his hometown, Beijing.

Despite posters for the show bearing his name being plastered all over Paris, he says, “I’m not famous enough for the Chinese authorities to pay attention to me yet, and as my work is not political, in most cases it should be fine.”

I’ve seen a few Chinese exhibitions in my time, most recently in Venice for the Biennale, where wacky and kitsch often come into focus, but Chen is certainly the most provocative I have seen when it comes to all things subversive and sexual.

How does Chen’s art goes down on home soil? “Most of the time, they freak out, but for younger generations, they like it at the same time as well,” he says.

In the introduction to the exhibition, which takes place under the watch of a bling-like giant third eye wall hanging, Chen is quoted on all that he finds inspiring.

This ranges from Tibetan Buddhism to pop cultural movements from the past 30 years, including New York vogueing, burlesque freak shows, and London raves.

Chen was born in 1985 and raised in Beijing. Of his time growing up there, he says, it was, “Normal, boring, a poor quality of life, but I still quite enjoy staying here. All the shit brings more possibility.”

After studying graphic design at Central Saint Martins, he went on to do an MA in fine art at the Chelsea College of Art and Design.

Central Saint Martins is known for its fashion courses and, Chen says, he also designed three collections that were “similar to his art” in style. His work has also been featured at London Fashion Week.

“What I like about them is the breaking of the boundaries of self-expression and the diversity of their forms. By the way, I like hip-hop, not just queer hip-hop,” Chen says.

In creating his temple of the kitsch and the freakish, he worked with representations of youth culture and what he calls, “youth’s consistent quest for carnal pleasures,” and the opportunism of religion.

“I’m trying to create an updated contemporary religious experience, looking at everything happening in urban life that could possibly combine with spirituality. Our fascination with pop culture is really like some kind of worship, isn’t it?” he says.

“I create ephemeral temples in different places in order to question the fragility of our contemporary lives and dwindling morality and beliefs,” Chen adds.

Salvation, he suggests, can be found in a celebration of bad taste.

Indeed, one of the highlights of the show is a giant blow-up female doll, her breasts reaching for the skies, her hands placed on the floor, as she arches in a semi-inflated back stand, a silvery pink chord extending from her belly button to what looks like a deflated pink cow, hanging from the ceiling.

Perhaps she likes farm animals?

A strange sound erupts from a screen in the corner and midgets painted in blue, their heads dressed in sci-fi looking pigtails, appear sitting on third eye symbols on screen, amusing themselves. It looks like alternative porn.

A row of glass smoking inhalers are lined up as icons to this new religion, separating two spaces inside the gallery with its neon lights and weird noises that actually feel rather transcendental and, therefore, like experiencing a religion or a cult.

“I’m a Tibetan Buddhist myself,” says Chen. “That is a lifetime-long thing. I also practice it every weekend by going to a class. But my work is not all about Tibetan Buddhism,” he says. Still, this is a religion that embraces sexuality.

Asian kitsch karma sutra-like images are painted on some of the walls, from a bald-headed face sporting tribal-looking psychedelic makeup, with a sexual-looking red tongue, resembling a penis, protruding from the mouth.

More artful and seductive is the image of a naked white bottom, or what looks like a pale Geisha, attracting a few viewers with its coy Asian artfulness on another screen.

Multimedia references are everywhere, from an image of a scary looking cross-legged naked deity, emblazoned with the logo “IMAX 3D: December 18,” and a poster sporting two midgets for an upcoming film called Gangster Blood.

The midgets appear again on nearby screens in a production called “Paradise Bitch,” jiggling to hip-hop, showing mouths with no teeth, their tiny bodies decked in tattoos, dancing around a young pair of bare legs, their heads reaching the model’s thigh-high skirt.

Chen has done plenty of other shows, although this is his biggest to date.

One solo show in Beijing in 2013 was called “Tianzhuo Acid Club,” in which he turned the gallery space into a rave club and hosted a crazy party there.

It hardly sounds like something that China’s strict authorities would embrace. But empowered by his alternative experiences and the weirdness glimpsed and gleaned whilst he was in the British capital, he has returned to his hometown, Beijing.

As for the provocative nature of his art, when asked if he is one of the most subversive or sexually daring artists in China, Chen says modestly, “I don’t think so. Artists can be provocative in many ways.”

Tianzhuo Chen's Palais de Tokyo show runs until September 13.