Gallery Visit IV
Museum of Contemporary Art
I confessed in my last gallery visit blog post that contemporary art isn’t my favourite genre of art (I know it’s vague, but something about it just doesn’t do it for me), but this time around I insisted that we visit the Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA) for the Do Ho Suh exhibition.
The first time I saw it on the MCA’s Instagram, I was transfixed.
People walking through the pale, translucent silhouettes of forms buildings (which, oddly enough, remind me of the segments of a caterpillar). The scale, colour, aura, and element of interactivity, it all drew me in. Not to mention how the installation explores the complex relationship between place, home and identity, and how memory ties into it all (coincidentally echoing the major Honours project I’d just spent the last year creating).
A part of the Sydney International Art Series (as was the Doug Aitken exhibition we saw last time), this is Do Ho Suh’s first solo exhibition in the Southern Hemisphere. It contained numerous significant works from his oeuvre.
We saw slow-moving yet entrancing video installation, indoor scenes from different houses transitioning into the next one, smoothly sliding up or across.
A small-scale paper rubbing installation, and numerous two-dimensional textile and paper works.
We eventually came across Metal Jacket. The overlapping military tags give the jacket-form a shiny, scaly appearance. As stated in the accompanying artist statement, the individuality of the military personnel whose tags have made the robe intersects with the concept of the body as a home-space (if the body is not the original home-space, then what is?).
There was a rubbing of Metal Jacket on the adjacent wall – the jacket was flattened on the paper, the remaining negative space in the middle reminiscent of a keyhole (my fingers itched to touch the paper, to see how textured it would be).
Rubbing/Loving Project: Metal Jacket, Do Ho Suh (2014), coloured pencil on mulberry paper.
Finally, we came upon Hubs, a multicoloured series of six interconnecting spaces. Made of gauzy fabric supported by steel frames, these rooms were enthralling to walk through. Each detail had been accounted for, from light switches to fuse boxes to fire extinguishers. The stitching mimicked the inlaid wood panelling that would have been in the original space, and the fabric hugged each contour.
Hub Series, Do Ho Suh (2015-2018), polyester fabric, stainless steel.
Hub Series, Do Ho Suh (2015-2018), polyester fabric, stainless steel.
(I wish I had been able to take more documentation photos, but I didn’t want to hold up the line of other people waiting to look!)
Hub Series, Do Ho Suh (2015-2018), polyester fabric, stainless steel.
Hub Series, Do Ho Suh (2015-2018), polyester fabric, stainless steel.
Suh states that these Hubs are transitional spaces, and his interest lies in a place that leads you to the destination, rather than the destination itself.
Accompanying statement for Hub Series.
After Hubs, we moved on to Specimens. Made of the same gossamer fabric, the four household items sat illuminated in glass cases. Similarly to the Hubs, each detail was accounted for – the air vents stitched onto the side of the stove, the lettering on the taps on the underside of the sink, the piping clearly visible from inside the toilet (I could go on, but I wouldn’t do the details justice).
These household objects have a sense of unreality about them, like time has passed and they are now echoes of what the once were, now not meant to be used for their intended purpose).
Basin, Apartment A, 348 West 22nd Street, New York, NY 10011, USA, Do Ho Suh (2015), polyester fabric, stainless steel wire.
Stove, Apartment A, 348 West 22nd Street, New York, NY 10011, USA, Do Ho Suh (2013), polyester fabric, stainless steel wire.
In the next room was Floor and Who Am We? (Multicoloured), overwhelming present in the large space. Both works contain seemingly thousands of smaller parts that make up the collective larger whole, walking the line between individuality and conformity.
Floor, Do Ho Suh (1997-2000), PVC figures, glass plates, phenolic sheets, polyurethane resin & Who Am We? (Multicoloured), Do Ho Suh (2000), four-colour offset print on paper.
Floor contains an army of tiny PVC figures, separated from the audience by only a thin sheet of glass; while Who Am We? (Multicoloured) is made up of multitudes of portraits that look like speckles when viewed at a distance, and only reveal themselves to be people’s faces when viewed up-close.
Who Am We? (Multicoloured), Do Ho Suh (2000), four-colour offset print on paper.
Floor, Do Ho Suh (1997-2000), PVC figures, glass plates, phenolic sheets, polyurethane resin.
Floor, Do Ho Suh (1997-2000), PVC figures, glass plates, phenolic sheets, polyurethane resin.
Walking into the next room, all you could see was the orange veil of Staircase-III, descending from the ceiling. The lines of the staircase look so realistic that it almost invites you to take a step up, the fabric bowing in the middle of each stair as if someone else has stood there before you.
Staircase-III, Do Ho Suh (2010), polyester fabric and stainless steel.
While Staircase-III is also an overwhelming presence as the lone artwork in the room, it feels welcoming, like a warm blanket – compared to the tidal-wave of Floor and Who Am We? (Multicoloured) in the room before.
(It also kind of reminds me of the doorway into castle from Howl’s Moving Castle!)
Downstairs, we saw one last work by Suh; Rubbing/Loving Project: Seoul Home. Suh recreated his childhood home through graphite rubbings on mulberry paper. Made at one-to-one scale, the paper house stands alone in the room. It appears as though one accidental bump, and the structure would crumple – but at the same time, it seems so realistic, each texture and crevice resembling the real object.
Rubbing/Loving Project: Seoul Home, Do Ho Suh (2013-2022), graphite on mulberry paper, aluminium.
Rubbing/Loving Project: Seoul Home, Do Ho Suh (2013-2022), graphite on mulberry paper, aluminium.
Something Suh stated in the accompanying artist’s statement resonated with me. Suh explained that the reason he kept returning to this house was because it’s where he grew up, and its where his father spent most the most time.
“The house is like a self-portrait, but it’s a portrait of my father as well.”
After a year’s worth of research into the intersection between home, memory and identity, I don’t think I could come up with a more apt way to describe a home.
Keep up with my art journey!
