Momentary Grace
Feb 28 - Mar 31, 2018
Haiton Art, Taipei, Taiwan
A collection of peculiar objects occupy a pristine white space. They are made from organic as well as synthetic composites, and have undergone various levels of manipulation: some directly juxtaposed from found objects, some eroded in a natural flood after initial construction, and others laboriously built from multiple material processes. Borne from a series of heartbreaks and life failures, this work is an attempt to make peace with emotional chaos. Intuitive and calculated manifestations make up the landscape of a pregnant mind in which independent subjects refract and reference one another continuously.
A short story titled ‘Fathers’ based on the artist’s personal dream accompanies this installation:
Feb 28 - Mar 31, 2018
Haiton Art, Taipei, Taiwan
A collection of peculiar objects occupy a pristine white space. They are made from organic as well as synthetic composites, and have undergone various levels of manipulation: some directly juxtaposed from found objects, some eroded in a natural flood after initial construction, and others laboriously built from multiple material processes. Borne from a series of heartbreaks and life failures, this work is an attempt to make peace with emotional chaos. Intuitive and calculated manifestations make up the landscape of a pregnant mind in which independent subjects refract and reference one another continuously.
A short story titled ‘Fathers’ based on the artist’s personal dream accompanies this installation:
Last night I dreamed I was giving birth. My belly was huge, swollen under a tan, tight-fitting dress, and my water had just broken. There wasn’t much pain. No anxiety either. If anything I was irritated by the absence of the father to my child. My own father was there though, he had no idea what to do. We got in a taxi and headed for the hospital. At the entrance I realized I had forgotten to make an appointment for C-section: this womb was cut open a few years back and could not withstand the pressure of natural births, so I’d been told. My father was clueless. He disappeared into the back of a guestroom. I had to talk to a nurse with my pulsing belly to arrange an operation. A doctor and a room are available, she said, quite a prestigious obstetrician too. Grace tends to fall upon me when things are going to shit. I felt a lingering sorrow waking up, wondering where the hell the father to my child was.
–Fathers 08082017
–Fathers 08082017
