“Hot Blood” is the latest in a line of collections that tap into a new zeitgeist of artists who are challenging Western expectations of Chinese art and identity.

“There seemed to be this movement of artists who refused to be labeled by nationality or gender, who challenged social and sexual taboos with their work,” said Mr. Williams. Outside of the Great Firewall of China and its censorship, the artwork in this exhibition reveals how “this predominantly younger generation of artists have moved on from ‘Chineseness’ and place themselves in the middle of the global contemporary art practice,” he added.

On the afternoon I visited, I lingered along with a young and diverse crowd in front of each exhibition. There was “Electromagnetic Brainology” by Lu Yang, a dizzying installation of godlike animated figures and “Expected Departure,” by Leung Mee Ping, featuring X-rays of dozens of airline sick bags the artist had collected over years of travel.

One artist had made mandalas from 20,000 Guggenheim Museum tickets she had kept after a stint working there. Another had installed popular Chinese GIFs around a screen that refused to load. And of course, there was “Miss Melissa and Mr. Fish at 2:31 p.m.”

Australians are familiar with the image of modern China as a place of political fear and economic power. Here was a different view from a generation of artists playing around with messages that seemed avant-garde, borderless and so very human. For those of us who have hungered for deeper insight into the country, it felt like this was one of the places to learn.

Perhaps the best example of this was on the gallery’s top floor, where a woman stood at the entrance, dutifully warning viewers that the artwork contained images of self-harm. All of us there took in the photo series, a confronting seat into the psychological battle with depression, in silence. The two works, “The Bearable” and “Bees” by Chen Zhe, have led visitors to share their own experiences with how self-harm has touched their lives, said Mr. Williams.