Mixed media installation Hong Kong female artist solo exhibition
Mixed media installation Hong Kong female artist solo exhibition 価出前銘行溡湡溜 (Seoul Dynamic, Dynamic Part 2), 2017–19, Bagong Style, Bangkok, 2017. Photo: Jason Lee. One of the most intriguing pieces in the exhibition was Dynamic Flight, Part 2: Seo Kim-hyun and Arata Isozaki. Isozaki was born in Korea, and at eighteen he moved to Singapore to study art at the Institute of Contemporary Art. The artist remains fiercely rooted in the city where he has lived most of his life. In a statement for the exhibition, he described his relationship with his father as loving, close, and collaborative. Isozakis work exemplifies what has become an increasingly common phrase: Korean artist committed to achieving artistic success abroad. Isozakis painting in Singapore exemplifies this style. In addition to producing paintings for display in his own gallery, the artist also exhibited them in a series of larger-scale, more formally and conceptually themed paintings on canvas that formed the basis of the show.The central figure in the paintings, Seo Kim-hyun, is a prolific writer who has been published in such popular magazines as Billboard and The New York Times. While this artist was also among the last (along with artists such as Kim Cha-ho and Baekhyun) to graduate from art school in South Korea, he was one of the first Asian artists to be accepted into the prestigious art school in Singapore. Isozaki is attracted to contemporary issues such as sustainability, poverty, and globalization. In fact, the work of the artist is always tied to issues of the region. In the years since he started exhibiting in Singapore, the city has invested in public art and cultural education, and the city has been recognized as an important hub for contemporary art.
Mixed media installation Hong Kong female artist solo exhibition 谷富旰守新比物的取代分, from 12:00 PM (December 30, 2015) to 1:00 AM (January 1, 2016).For her solo exhibition, Three Tales of the Pearl, Shanghai-based artist Xiayu Lijun, whose father is Chinese, asked seven female artists to reflect on the traditional Chinese usage of pearl-bearing, its practice in the region over centuries, and on women who have not taken the pearl as a traditional matter of clothing. In a piece that was not on display but can be seen in the gallery, Lijun translates pearl to a memory-enhancing substance in her works via plaster casts of femoral bones and other materials that she found in a local hardware store. The show was accompanied by a description of her work, written in English by the artists father, a Chinese man. The inscription also noted that she did not have a passport, a passport that was not the most conspicuous thing in the show. As one can see from the accompanying document, the artist is currently based in Frankfurt, and her work has traveled throughout Europe.This rare work by a Chinese woman remains an exception, however, that was the heart of the exhibition. Three female artists (Lijun, Li Ying, Yasumasa Yamamoto, and the aforementioned Lijun) provided almost sixty pieces of pearl-encrusted textiles. Alongside the artists statements, the fabric motifs and patterns are found on many pieces of cloth, which served as a support. In Lijun's past works, the needle motifs that she uses for embroidery have been variously paired with the flowers, flowers, and gems of pearl. In the present work, the pearl motifs and colors have been adapted to male-patterned shirts, and both are present in textiles.
Mixed media installation Hong Kong female artist solo exhibition 《Honk-hwa (Cross-honking), 2012, edited by Dziga Marchiony, and translated into Chinese by Yong Yu-Kyu and described in detail by the artist as a struggle to differentiate between word and image, male and female, the beautiful and the ugly. The next morning, I entered a vast glass-walled exhibition space to find myself facing a large, T-shirt-clad male fighter dressed in black combat gear (typical of the Hong Kong male population) with a tiger mask and pudgy jeans. I saw him as a symbol of good luck and, indeed, he was. But his boldness soon became apparent: The tiger mask, which he wore on his head while defending himself from a female assailant, was torn in the middle. The damage was concealed from view, but it was clear that he had suffered a severe cut—and from his athletic physique. He had also been stripped of his animal identity, as his combat gear had been removed and he was being replaced by a female trainer.A similar ambiguity arose in the work of Maos Mami, who is considered one of the most influential artists in the twentieth century. In his studio he put together paintings based on the alphabet. The series C.S., 1976–77, consisted of carefully painted aluminum reliefs on canvas, each with a meticulously painted letter-shaped panel in clear red. These works were accompanied by digital prints of the letters. As in Maos earlier works, the letter that was carved out of the aluminum was a deliberate choice: It signified a physical departure from the medium and set the act of painting in a new, uncertain register. Maos works are not about painting per se, but rather about painting in a new register. The artist rejects the traditional mode of painting: He does not so much indulge in the painting-as-painting business as he modifies and transposes it.
Mixed media installation Hong Kong female artist solo exhibition 依赛师始國, dàopuànjògíjé y blõü (Womens Body Painting and Metal Art), 2005–2006. Installation view, September 11, 2006. Photo: Yuanyuan Shan. Taiwan, 2005, an artists book, served as the exhibition title. Is it to be said that in the aftermath of Taiwan's four decades of political unrest, its culture and arts have become increasingly internationalized and are more accessible to Western audiences? Is this ideal shared by several Southeast Asian nations? The question is formulated in a particularly Taiwanese strain, where, with Taiwanese cultural identity tied to nationalism, the classical icon of Chinese nationalism, the emaciated body of Tsai Ing-wen, as well as the inspiration for Taiwanese artist Liu Ming-chen, is a cultural form that represents the embrace of Chinese identity and identity politics as a sign of cultural rupture.Liu was born and raised in Taiwan, in a country with the largest population in the world, and his art has long been rooted in his experience in the Taiwanese diaspora: his father, the legendary poet Huang Ching-jen, who emigrated to Taiwan in the 1950s, is revered here as a pioneer of the digital humanities. This exhibition, the first major Asian-American survey organized by the museum, also included two of Lius Taiwanese, both of whom come from Taiwan: one was an art historian and an intellectual and a political activist who was born in 1970 and is also a teacher at the University of the People's Republic of China. This might not seem like an easy combination, especially for an art that traditionally involves a border struggle with China. But Liu was also a soldier in the Taiwanese army and was wounded in an attack on a student at Tsai's graduation ceremony in 1998. He is now receiving treatment in a national hospital in Taiwan.
Mixed media installation Hong Kong female artist solo exhibition 世界女若蜉出来世界女若蜉若若若若的生态, 2008, Chinese-made documentary film and light-box set, Chinese-made fantasy novel. Discreetly and unobtrusively invoking all sorts of masculine fetish objects and fantasies, Feng had himself photographed wearing a military uniform and parading his junk to the audience, where they—though they look like too much masculine stuff—were snatched away as art. This work was a strong example of Fengs subversive approach to his own role in the male-dominated art world. His films are also often made in collaboration with men; in this case, Zhang Zheng, the younger of the two, was also among the young Chinese artists he collaborated with.Fengs use of the middle-aged male body as a site of danger and suspense evokes the historical tradition of metal sculptures, which are of different sizes and weights, and are built with precisely cast metal. For example, in A Tibetan Girl, 2008, the artist appears to be about to collide with a giant rock. He stands in front of a house built of heavy construction material, concrete, and rope, and bends down to look at the rock with a sort of seriousness. Although the scene is set in the gallery, the identity of the artist is still unclear. Is he actually the rock? Or is he a miniature, or even a lifelike, but in an unfamiliar territory?The power of this work lies in the absence of definitive answers. These are never easy questions, but what they do hint at is that the artist is asking what his presence in the world might be.