• Incurable Absurdity

    Date posted: July 18, 2008 Author: jolanta
    If the value of art hinges upon how art is viewed in the history, does the way art looks at social conflicts also play a role in determining its value? The first section of my new book addresses how we can use art to examine our existence in light of Taiwan’s historical and social complexity. Most of the artworks presented in the book are art interventions, with some installations and videos. At first glance they seem to have strong political overtones and discuss issues revolving around the subjectivity of Taiwan. They aren’t about history, an ideology of provocation, advancing political motives, or party leanings whatsoever. Instead, the works rely on serious politics and eccentric performances to unmask certain ludicrous situations hidden behind the uncontrollable human will. Image

     Yao Jui-Chung is an artist based in Taipei, Taiwan.

    Image

    Yao Jui-Chung, Heaven. Courtesy of Galerie Grand Siècle.

    If the value of art hinges upon how art is viewed in the history, does the way art looks at social conflicts also play a role in determining its value? The first section of my new book addresses how we can use art to examine our existence in light of Taiwan’s historical and social complexity. Most of the artworks presented in the book are art interventions, with some installations and videos. At first glance they seem to have strong political overtones and discuss issues revolving around the subjectivity of Taiwan. They aren’t about history, an ideology of provocation, advancing political motives, or party leanings whatsoever. Instead, the works rely on serious politics and eccentric performances to unmask certain ludicrous situations hidden behind the uncontrollable human will. I hope to reveal other even greater absurdities with my own absurd behavior.

    The second section of the book is primarily photography. All of the images are black-and-white and completely devoid of people. While roaming around Taiwan in the 1990s, I took many photographs of abandoned structures in an attempt to bring to light the spirit hidden in these ruins. Another group of work is made from specific elements (man-made deities, figures, and things) taken from the same photographs of disused sites. These images are covered with gold leaf and silver foil to candidly present a particular quality of phoniness and detachment. My attempt here is to describe a strange feeling of cool detachment or nameless passing sadness that I find in Taiwan. My recent photographs mainly examine the nature of life itself, and the use of poetic techniques to express its inexplicable changeability. In my opinion, if intersections of time and space are a manifestation of the past and future, then the question of whether the moment captured by the camera lens can exist forever also becomes a paradoxical illusion. To put it more pessimistically, everything must come to ruin sometime in the future and all images ultimately fade. With this in mind, I would rather believe that a picture isn’t merely a testament to the inevitability of death, but a medium of rebirth that can summon back some unknowable moment in time and space.

    The third section of the book contains smaller, lesser-known works on paper, most of which were completed in relatively isolating circumstances, such as when I was serving in the military (1994-1996,) during the 2003 SARS epidemic, or while attending residencies abroad (1997, 2001, 2006, and 2007.) I didn’t make them for any particular reason other than to fill an excess of free time. I was determined to make the best of constraining situations, so I just picked up a drafting pen and some hand-made paper, and made these dense, laborious drawings, and then added gold leaf to them. Surprisingly, drawing inadvertently eased my anxiety, and I ended up with many unexpected results. It seemed like I was bringing back some simpler and happier time when I only focused on drawing, and this is a joy that an artist can’t always expect. More than 30 artworks from my early period along with interdisciplinary work made when I attended the Tian-Da-Na Experimental Group have been selected for the appendix. I hope that these creations spanning the past 20 years will provide readers with some reference and therefore, a more comprehensive context for my work.

    If we say that resignation is the destiny of a generation lost in the fog of history, the least we can do is make commentary on our plight. It’s just like I once said, “The historical destiny of humanity has a certain incurable absurdity!” In the past, present, or future, we can never avoid this nameless and preposterous situation. 

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