Text / Weiwei Lo
The ruler of the North Sea was “Shu（儵, meaning ‘swift’ in Chinese),” the ruler of the South Sea was “Hu（忽, ‘sudden’),” and the ruler of the Central Sea was “Hundun（渾沌, ‘spontaneity’).” Shu and Hu had on several occasions encountered each other in the territory of Hundun, and Hundun had treated them with great hospitality. Shu and Hu, devising a way to repay Hundun's generosity, said: "Human beings all have seven orifices through which they see, hear, eat, and breathe. Hundun alone is without them." They then attempted to bore holes in Hundun, each day boring one hole. On the seventh day, Hundun died.
- Zhuang Zi, Inner Chapters: The Normal Course for Rulers and Kings
What was it like before the whole world was named? What can it be when all we see are the names? The barriers as well as the pride we have built into everything lead us to a dead end of imagination. This is how Yun-Ting Hung’s (洪韵婷) work reminds me of the old wisdom of ancient Chinese philosopher Zhuang Zi and his beautiful, sad story of Hundun. The secret longing to return to the primary state of Hundun is hidden behind the smart little mechanisms in Hung's work. Thus, the spontaneity is no longer the original, innocent spontaneity but a transformed void that looks like a wonderland while still delicately holding onto the reality we need to face in daily life.
Yun-Ting Hung’s (洪韵婷) work contains a characteristic of what I would call “industrial poetry.” It combines the Eastern philosophy of Taoism and the rethinking of modern civilization. Using various kinds of materials, Hung tends to bring her interests of physics and astronomy to the design of her work. Hence, the beyond-reality we see from her works maintains a subtle balance of being rational and lyrical. Instead of placing a mirror in front of the viewers to create self-conflicts like many other artists do, Hung offers the viewers a celluloid sheet. It is no one but the viewer himself who has to hold the celluloid sheet, which means the participation and sensation of the viewers is a significant part of her work. You could either see things through the celluloid sheet as simply “the being” itself or reverse your position with the others as if you could see through time and space, people and objects. Another famous story of Zhuang Zi recounts one night when he dreamed that he was a carefree butterfly. After he woke up, he wondered how he could determine whether he was Zhuang Zi who had just finished dreaming he was a butterfly, or a butterfly who had just started dreaming he was Zhuang Zi. The organic dream Hung creates for the viewers enables them to travel across existing boundaries and temporarily give up insisting being the owners of themselves.
One can also see Hung’s photographic works as the sketch she does to represent the phenomenal impressions she has been collecting from the modern world. Lines and shapes, lightness and darkness, cities and buildings; the still photographs provide us with a quiet merged map between materiality and humanity. The moderate sensibility in Hung’s photographs reveals her intention of being neutral and intuitive at once. But one should not misunderstand the use of the word ‘sketch’ as something unfinished, simplified, or work in process. It looks simple because it is simple. To Hung, every photograph is already a perfect universe in itself. It enfolds us while we touch it with our eyes.
The work of Yun-Ting Hung (洪韵婷) shows a Walter Benjamin style of optimistic openness rather than total nostalgia. After all, we survived, and we have to live on. It is impossible for us to go back to the time when Hundun was still complete and satisfied as it was. But at least we could try to see, hear, eat, and breathe with our newly-bored orifices peacefully. Furthermore, we learn to live with them, make the best use of them and try to rediscover the spontaneity we have almost forgotten. Through the work of Yun-Ting Hung (洪韵婷) and with her unique understanding of where we are living and whom we are living with, we are able to see the slight possibility of carrying everyone with us, even during our own journey. Luckily enough, we see everywhere as our little paradise.
[1] John Lennon, I am the Walrus, The Beatles, Magical Mystery Tour, Parlophone, 1967
Weiwei Lo . writer / artist
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