XO.1
Aun Helden, Yan Higa, ishineko, Taka Kono, runurunu
2024-09-21
2024-10-04
Location:
mcg21xoxo ♥ WHITEHOUSE
Event Type:
Group Exhibition
In the beginning, in a world where chaos reigned and identity had not yet been formed, the first spark of the ego was born. Out of this sacred and undefined substance emerged the gods themselves, shaped by struggle and sacrifice, where the possible and the real collide.
This exhibition draws us into a primordial space where the human and divine converge, and where the familiar contours of life take on a new, unsettling form. The works on view here respond to this ancient process of becoming by interweaving fragments of domestic life, the fluidity of form, and the shadowy figures that inhabit the corners of our perception.
In the burnt-out remains of intimate spaces, we glimpse the echoes of disconnected relationships—a metaphor for a love that consumes itself, leaving behind the paradox of our search for intimacy in the horror of being known. The soft outlines of fleeting figures remind us of the transient nature of identity, always shifting, always just out of reach. And in the slow, deliberate movement of strange new forms, we sense the emergence of life from chaos, the birth of something familiar yet utterly alien.
I wonder if we ever truly move forward, or if we’re merely retracing the same worn paths, deluding ourselves with the notion of progress. Perhaps identity is not a journey of discovery, but rather a slow surrender—a resignation to the fragments we've collected, each piece carrying the weight of what was lost in the process.
These fragments, stained by memory, refuse to fit together as they once might have, leaving us in a perpetual loop of trying to reconcile the irreconcilable. Like the noose of success, these memories wrap themselves around us, a constant reminder that the solitude of our existence is heavier, more tangible, than any fleeting sense of completeness.
And so, I find myself staring at this heap of fragments, wondering if I’ll ever untangle the memories from the stains, or if, in the end, I’ll simply accept them as they are.
This exhibition draws us into a primordial space where the human and divine converge, and where the familiar contours of life take on a new, unsettling form. The works on view here respond to this ancient process of becoming by interweaving fragments of domestic life, the fluidity of form, and the shadowy figures that inhabit the corners of our perception.
In the burnt-out remains of intimate spaces, we glimpse the echoes of disconnected relationships—a metaphor for a love that consumes itself, leaving behind the paradox of our search for intimacy in the horror of being known. The soft outlines of fleeting figures remind us of the transient nature of identity, always shifting, always just out of reach. And in the slow, deliberate movement of strange new forms, we sense the emergence of life from chaos, the birth of something familiar yet utterly alien.
I wonder if we ever truly move forward, or if we’re merely retracing the same worn paths, deluding ourselves with the notion of progress. Perhaps identity is not a journey of discovery, but rather a slow surrender—a resignation to the fragments we've collected, each piece carrying the weight of what was lost in the process.
These fragments, stained by memory, refuse to fit together as they once might have, leaving us in a perpetual loop of trying to reconcile the irreconcilable. Like the noose of success, these memories wrap themselves around us, a constant reminder that the solitude of our existence is heavier, more tangible, than any fleeting sense of completeness.
And so, I find myself staring at this heap of fragments, wondering if I’ll ever untangle the memories from the stains, or if, in the end, I’ll simply accept them as they are.
