Hindley Wang
Hindley Wang is a New York-based freelance writer and translator from Shanghai. She is interested in the aesthetics, politics, and poetics of transcultural practices and postcolonial futures. She received her MA in Art History from the University of Chicago and BA from Vassar College.
Qiu Xiaofei becomes one of the few painters who publicly acknowledges photography’s role in his new body of work at Hauser & Wirth, New York, though to surprising ends.
Reminiscence (1964) is the opener for the Asian American artist Chinyee’s retrospective show Enraptured by Color, a fitting title in that the abstract painter explored colors as their own thematics. The result of such an approach is a kaleidoscopic investigation of different pictorial orders of abstraction in response to color relations, one unsatisfied with monochrome or monotony.
What is taking place in Dream Time, UCCA’s inaugural show of 2024? For one, it cracks open the possibility for a new share of exhibitions in this seventeen-year-old institution, possibly setting a precedent for future thematic exhibitions enlisting international rosters. Curated by Fang Yan, Dream Time features fifteen artists and groups from all over the world, including many queer-identifying artists.
I had anticipated austerity before walking into Elaine Cameron-Weir’s first solo at Lisson Gallery, NY, but only to detect a kind that is strangely tinged with an impersonal sentimentality. In a sense of estranged memoriam, the archival aesthetics displayed in A WAY OF LIFE feels evocative of a Christian Boltanski room.
The height was my height, I thought. I carefully considered the wooden structure that carved out the center opening. Small pieces of ink drawings were tucked in one corner or another, hunching and gleaming. Monsters grimace like cautionary road signs.
Curated by Hiromi Kinoshita and Gabrielle Niu, Oneness: Nature & Connectivity in Chinese Art features the work of four contemporary Chinese artists installed in conjunction with a selection of historical treasures from the museum’s collection.
It is a peculiar task to describe Leon Xu’s work. Perhaps it is easier to start with what it is not doing. These are not paintings of crowds or figures, but of experiences that feel too blurry to be near, too close to be real—too real to be vicarious. They don’t appear as much as they linger, declare as much as they hum. These are pictures of nothing, in particular.
What is Leah Ke Yi Zheng’s work about? It feels like the wrong question to ask, yet it feels more unjust to leave it in an ambiguous aesthetic limbo that is susceptible to taste.
