For “A Blow to the Everyday,” curator Yuko Hasegawa presents several works that transmute ordinary aspects of urban life. Japanese artists Kenichi Hagihara, Meiro Koizumi, Ayako Okubo, Yukihiro Taguchi, and Shiro Takatani and collectives Chim↑Pom and Wah engage with the seemingly mundane via performance, photography, video, installation, and painting.
In the performative installation Away, 2009, the Berlin-based Taguchi documents his visit to Hong Kong. A bamboo scaffold provides the physical framework for the installation, mimicking the look of buildings under construction. A series of found objects, including a traffic cone, an official city garbage can, and a toilet bowl, are placed in the bamboo structure alongside four videos. One features the artist running through the streets in the Kwun Tong industrial area performing parkour-like moves. The others utilize stop-motion photography to animate objects, such as the bamboo used in the installation. In these interactions between artist and city, the presentation of simple items like woven baskets evokes feelings of wonderment.
Koizumi narrates the terror of life in several videos, including Human Opera XXX, 2007, and Fhe Wav a Very Veautiful Woman . . ., 2001. These videos produce the curious effect of making tragic moments seem uncomfortably comic, provoking inappropriate laughs. Hagihara’s Sight Seeing Spot, 2009, comprises videos captured from a photo booth he placed in Hong Kong for one day and documents the processes wherein people approach self-portraiture and, resultantly, the construction of self-image. Though the various works differ in tone and approach, they cohere in the exhibition and create new vistas from which to view the diverse experiences and encounters of modern life.
“No man is an island,” wrote John Donne in 1624. Nearly four hundred years later, the cultural mythos of islands remains a powerful lure, provoking ongoing separatist propositions for individual subjects and collectives. Wrapped in contradiction and paradox, these dreams of escape and yearnings for a different life, channeled through an essay by Gilles Deleuze, form the foundation of the project “Desert Islands” (all works 2009) by the Hong Kong–based collective MAP Office (Valerie Portefaix and Laurent Gutierrez).
Featuring three videos, a central seating/viewing platform titled Domesticated Island, and a grid of one hundred mirrored acrylic panels, each with the outline of a specific island or chain of islands including Okinawa, Grenada, and the Florida Keys, laser-etched across the surface, the installation is deceptively light as it touches on such topics as global warming, forced migration, nuclear testing, ecotourism, Somali piracy, tax shelters, gun running, drug dealing, colonialism, tsunami devastation, and the complicated history of utopia. Indeed, the idea of utopia and its association with islands, from Thomas More to Dubai’s man-made the World, becomes the inescapable vortex at the center of the project. As evidenced in the numerous film clips that make up the three-channel video Island Resort, the social situations that develop on islands are effective control groups, offering rare insights into the conflicted engagement of the individual with society. And all too often, the drama of utopian aspirations concludes with the return of civilization, its barbarism intact: Robinson Crusoe’s capitalist imperative and Piggy’s brutal murder are just two examples. Ironically, and despite the antics of Johnny Depp, it was the pirates who created the most successful utopias: communities free of government, economic hierarchies, and mandatory labor in Madagascar, the Bahamas, and the coast of Morocco in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, where a model of individual freedom was established that is celebrated to this day.
Thus, ultimately, the island is a utopian concept of subjectivity and its geographic location. This connection is effectively underscored in MAP’s use of mirrors. Reflecting the images of spectators in the gallery back at them, the Lacanian mirror stage, that moment of narcissistic ego formation that allows individuals to distinguish themselves from “the Other,” is slyly evoked. Standing in the midst of the crowded opening and suddenly noticing one’s distorted doppelgänger across the room, one couldn’t help but think Donne’s famous assertion a dirty lie.
“Shell & Occupy 4” features the latest examples of Shinro Ohtake’s “stickering” method—the white noise of found objects strewn together, then contained by oil paint. The resulting effect is simultaneously gritty and sleek. The exhibition’s highlight is the wall-size multimedia assemblage Latitude of the Memory of Color/Galaxy, 2009, whose title indexes Ohtake’s two key preoccupations: color and memory.
The “Beach” cycle, created this past year, just as Ohtake was designing a public bath in Naoshima, emphasizes the memory component of his work. Here, vintage reproductions of swimsuit models are worked over with various materials. Partially obscured with the buildup of sand, plant seeds, and impasto painting, the pieces evince a wistful quality echoing the fragility of old images. In the 2008 collage series “Memory of Color,” in which Ohtake has combined lacquer, printed and plant matter, wallpaper, cotton yarn, and old photographs—topping this heavily varnished accumulation of found objects with multicolored splotches of oil paint—color is literally the starting point. The “Memory” images brilliantly articulate their spatial aspect by making the found objects appear from behind the painted-over Plexiglas base—the empirical contained by the subjective.
Ohtake has been an integral part of the Japanese art scene for some thirty years now, his densely layered images bringing into focus the impact of popular culture on contemporary art, as well as the lasting debate over the true relationship between Western and Japanese artists. Tellingly, the artist once cited among his major influences a schizophrenic outsider, Adolf Wölfli, whose metanarratives blended his personal mythology with actual and fictitious events of world history. When Ohtake arranges the layers of found objects with his drawings and paintings before varnishing and encapsulating them into custom frames that seal and bond the contents of the work, he performs a similar act of personal and cultural amalgamation, archiving his unique perception of the discarded cultural ephemera on display.
Ohm Phanphiroj’s latest series of photographs, “The Disabled,” 2009, was shot at the “Male Disabled Center and Rehabilitation” in southeast Thailand. In these works, Phanphiroj eschews the high production values of his previous images of beautiful young men and Thai transsexuals for heavily shadowed and mostly gritty black-and-white shots. Many of the figures lie or crouch; some are naked, including one man who is tied to a pipe while, nearby, a dog dozes in the shade. Phanphiroj also resists the conventions of portraiture for views of the disabled men in situ. Soulless concrete architecture is featured consistently.
A number of photographs show his subjects struggling with the ritual of washing themselves. In one work, a youth staring impassively from the edge of bed is juxtaposed with the useless legs of a fellow patient. An exception in the series is a touching color photograph of a man smiling, albeit inanely, at the viewer.
“The Disabled” demonstrates Phanphiroj’s strengths as a photographer insofar as he manages to invoke a certain tradition––documentary photographs of “the other”––while complicating the tradition’s raison d’être. That is, these photographs resist voyeurism and spectacle. This is a welcome departure in terms of Phanphiroj’s oeuvre generally (his previous series rely heavily on conventional precedents) and suggests a necessary signpost for those who choose to work in this mode.