Our exhibition practice has undergone a gradual transformation. In the beginning, we placed greater emphasis on knowledge-based experiences, building up research and writing projects into archival-style exhibitions. As our creative practices deepened with the days, we came to understand that knowledge and documentation may only be a starting point, while the sensory experience within the exhibition itself attracts and concerns us more. For example, in the exhibition Tofu Salesroom, Hangping Yang’s project Dark Water, White Tofu uses “metabolism” as a thread to explore the bodily qualities of tofu and the imagined corporeality of space.
In these projects, we approach research, artistic creation, and public education as parallel, interwoven practices. As an active and open community, we frequently engage in collaborations with institutions, researchers, and fellow artists.
RECENT SHOW
the 15th Shanghai Biennale @powerstationofart
"Does the Flower Hear the Bee?"
Out of Season
Plant South Salesroom
Commissioned by The 15th Shanghai Biennale
Courtesy of the artist
We had long contemplated the possibility of forming a minimal solidarity with plants, and the situations that might give rise to it. When we reached Leizhou Peninsula in South China for our initial pineapple field survey, we felt the impact of seasonal typhoons, which bring both life-giving rain and destruction. This land knows nature's gentleness and cruelty intimately: while dwarf pineapple plants may stand firm against fierce winds, they face destruction from waterlogged soils and pests. Remarkably, this turbulent environment produces most pineapples in China. Yet the triumph of productivity is merely an illusion of safety: only when the crowned pineapple is cut can the black rot become visible. The sturdier the greenhouse or residence, the more it testifies to the fragility of living beings.
In urban life, the relationship with plants has become purely transactional. Mutual indifference arises with the structural inequalities, leaving humans and plants isolated and voiceless. With our key artistic approach, “de-solitude,” we aim to develop a living architecture that resists collapse. Sustained by the daily practice of coexisting, it does not build a shelter but rather emits signals of companionship. Unbound by friendship or geographic distance, a minimal form of solidarity can take shape.
3D-printed objects (seagull, potatoes and knotted string), aluminum alloy, LED, stainless steel rods, colored acrylic sheets, painted concrete base
materials: aluminum alloy, silver fringe, LED, colored acrylic sheets, painted concrete base, 3D-printed object (connecting piece)
materials: giclée prints (archive photos taken by V. N. Zhernakov in 1954), laser engraving in glass, laser-engraved on aluminium panel
Plants are trained to fruit out of season, drifting beyond natural cycles.
To view this landscape of paradox, we encountered the man-bred fruits scratching at the air. The resulting distortion, fleeting artifacts, and a low, persistent buzz give rise to oscillations that unfold into an unfamiliar visual resonance. This questions our empathy toward nature: does this truly bring us any closer to plants? Or are we, instead, caught within machinery shaped by such valued correctness - lulled by a fragile sense of harmony, as we hurriedly plunk the faint sound of leaves and birds from the city’s ongoing hum, to imagine nature?
Perhaps the act of observing and framing is a snare. It tends to keep our distance from the subject, feigning friendship. What then, is possible? To walk with them, through the unnamed season.