Seed of Damocles (Flow) similarly explores the intertextuality between humans and plants. A tubular structure resembling human organs, with red LED lights streaming inside, is covered with numerous seeds of the Tree of Damocles that are reminiscent of cells, symbolising the organic circulation of the body and the endless propagation of life. Additionally, as the fruit of the Tree of Damocles resembles an inverted sword hanging from above, the artist alludes to the ancient Greek legend of the 'Sword of Damocles', suggesting the relativity and delicate balance within the survival systems of all living things.
After receiving her art education in Korea, Shin pursued further studies in the UK. Exposed to a new educational model, she realised that foreign cultures are often accepted locally through a translated format. This insight led her to understand that representations of classical works are not mere replications but translations. Her replicas of classical works reveal the differences between the original and the reproduced pieces, deconstructing their historical meanings and inviting viewers to re-examine and understand the originals through a contemporary lens. The Ming and Qing Dynasty ceramics she reproduced depart from their historical glory, embracing only the original works' external forms. The fragrance emitted from her pieces also unveils their nature as replicas. While classical sculptures or porcelains are preserved for extended periods in museums, soap is prone to disintegration and melting. Through this contrast, Shin focuses not only on the differences between the original and the replicated but also on the natural processes that materials change over time. Furthermore, historically, porcelains were produced and exported in response to the Chinoiserie craze that swept across Europe. This reminds us that tastes are as ephemeral and illusory as soap. The fragility of soap also speaks to the vanitas (vanity) of life.
This piece employs a refined silk-screen printing technique to imprint elegant water wave patterns on transparent acrylic plates, which are then stacked into box-like structures. The title 'Tectonic' refers to the exploration of formal and structural elements, demonstrating the interplay between space, shape, and material. The visual effects created by lighting can lead viewers to perceive these wave patterns as natural landscapes. Under illumination, the flowing patterns become more vivid, evoking snow-covered terrains and the memory-storing sulci of the brain. These boxes display complex light and shadow patterns formed by interference and collision of light, simultaneously reminiscent of the human brain and creating a perceptual labyrinth. This captivating work, exploring the relationship between phenomena and perception, is both an optical illusion wall formed by intricate lines carved into geometric structures and an installation that unveils the mysteries of the complex, ever-changing human mind.
Taiwan, situated in the subtropical region, once had sugarcane as its primary export commodity. Lo Yi-Chun ingeniously employs bagasse to create a series of interactive missiles: as viewers grip the handle and open and close their arms in a chest exercise motion, the suspended missiles are released and fall back down. This clever juxtaposition of weapon and exercise equipment echoes how sugar, once a coveted tropical resource that provoked wars and colonisation, has now become a calorie source that people eagerly try to burn off through exercise. This work not only reveals the influence and energy conversion of materials but also highlights the power dynamics behind cash crops and the contradictions and conflicts inherent in contemporary geopolitics. The various models of these sugarcane pulp missiles trace the evolving role of the sugar industry in producing 'agricultural products - daily necessities - military fuel (ethanol/butanol)'. Additionally, it responds to the absurd political tensions in today's tumultuous international arena, where missiles frequently traverse national borders.
Iron, originating from natural mineral deposits, has played a pivotal role in human civilisation and history through its mining, refining, and application. Using iron as his primary creative medium, Liu reinterprets meteorites in this work, further extending his series of creations that dialogue with Taiwan's prehistoric iron-smelting civilisation. His miniaturised Iron Men resemble both tiny plants and fragments of meteorites, scattered and assimilated within the piece. This embodies humanity's minute existence whilst concretely revealing the 'mutual tempering of human and matter' in world development. By tracing back to the origins of all things, to the evolving natural universe and infinite space-time, Liu fundamentally connects the realms of matter and imagination, allegorically merging human and non-human worlds. This primitive landscape, which unfolds in response to Taiwan's prehistoric sites, takes an archaeological approach but ultimately points to the contemporary, exploring the shared relationships between humans and objects, humanity and nature. This meteoric landscape, therefore, is not merely a 'singular place', but a cross-domain 'trans-locality'.
Lee mixes various spices to build miniature sand castles and displays them on filing cabinets that serve as pedestals. Originally, plants emit stimulating aromas for survival or reproduction; however, these smells ended up drawing humans closer to the plants. Humans then started to collect, cultivate, and process these plants for producing spices, which eventually led to Spice Wars and colonial plunder in history. Castles made from powder no longer convey nobility, permanence, or strength. The disassembled stairs no longer allow people to ascend, either; they lie flat on the floor like fences, yet set no boundaries. Over 200 specimens of native Taiwanese insects are displayed, showcasing Taiwan's rich biodiversity. Among these objects, the native Taiwanese plant, makauy (mountain pepper), makes a special appearance as a fresh green living, subtly contrasting with the powdered spices shaped like castles. This cross-species scene reveals the intricate, interconnected relationships between a region and the globe, the evolution of (post-)colonialism, and the existence and multiple implications of 'locality'.
In her work In Her Midst – Her World, the artist uses Tung Oil Tree powder to create clay for modelling a human brain. This model is then wrapped with fabric printed with photographs documenting her mother's daily life, sheet music, and text. Through this, the artist explores whether memory serves as the foundation of human identity. While these photographs stand as tangible evidence of memories, the intricately crafted brain model, composed of these graphic elements, paradoxically highlights the vulnerability of memories due to illness-induced brain dysfunction.
As an artist, she focuses on the changes occur to women bodies as women live through diverse environments, ideologies, the development of nuclear power and war, and other social issues. The artist employed the traditional Japanese kimekomi technique in Spare-Part, deftly inserting fabric into the grooves of a handmade wooden model. This is complemented by exquisite bead embroidery, resulting in a life-size representation of a magnificent human heart. This artwork probes the ethical implications of organ transplantation, questioning its impact on human dignity and addressing the issue of organ trafficking.
Air plants, known for their dust-absorbing and air-purifying properties, are cultivated as both functional and ornamental elements in interior spaces. In this installation, Kim transplanted numerous air plants onto a museum wall, creating a landscape reminiscent of traditional Chinese paintings that depicts the surroundings of the Juming Museum. Over time, these rootless plants have established new territories, their gradual growth becoming integral to the artwork. In this space where artificiality and nature intersect, the plants' survival struggle becomes the work's sustaining force. The environment created by these air plants invites reflection on the social significance of transplanted nature. In their natural habitat, air plants parasitise large trees, dispersing with the wind to begin new life cycles. This tenacious struggle for existence not only evokes parallels with human nomadic life but also instils a profound respect for ecological resilience.
