If there is a garden, where would I be? is a visual and spatial art project in which a “garden” is created for viewers to stay, explore and enjoy.
Though gardens relate to the nature, all gardens are indeed artificial. Nature within the garden is a human projection with layers of mediation. This Garden consists of two areas: “In the Shade” and “In the Garden”. Allowing one to be temporarily isolated from daily life, this Garden is on one hand a physical space where one could stroll, stay and spend time in, with tangible artefacts as elements positioned within; and also a mental landscape which connects us with the intangible— the light, the shadow, the air, the trajectory of the moon, the disappearance of things. Composed of multiple materials, this Garden is an oeuvre that blurs the distinction between subject and background. Within this Garden, viewers are free to open up their sensibility to see and to feel, so as to consciously recalibrate the self in this space of otium.
This collaborative project is conceived and constructed by Au Hoi Lam and Chang Hoi Wood. Their dispositions and aesthetic values are merged into this Garden. Au uses handicraft to express ideas and emotions, embodying the relationship between the individual and the world. Chang focuses on the exploration of the emotional power of space through the articulation of geometry, and the innermost sentiments evolved and encountered in such experience. In this project, they explore further the themes of being as an individual: retrospection, contemplation, otium, vigilance, soothing and cultivation. Gardens allow viewers to stroll, introspect and reorganise oneself. Gardens connect the individuals to the world. Gardens craft landscapes on earth and in mind.
Artist talk, guided tours, workshops and reading group will be held during the exhibition period. All activities below will be conducted in Cantonese. Limited quota: please register online in advance.
Workshop Poetry and Symbol (Day) Sep 6, Saturday, 10.30am – 12pm Full Moon and Night Garden Sep 7, Sunday, 8pm – 9.30pm Poetry and Symbol (Night) Sep 12, Friday, 7pm – 8.30pm
Garden, A Reading Group Sep 14, Sunday, 2pm – 3.30pm
Born in Terzigno, near Naples, Salvatore Emblema (1929-2006) initially pursued a rather traditional artistic education, going to art school, training as a cameo jewellery carver (a practice that has a distinct Neapolitan declension, in the Torre del Greco school, which specialised in corals) and then enrolling in a degree in Fine Arts at the University of Naples. He didn’t finish university but instead dedicated time to travelling – going to France, the UK, and the Netherlands, and to New York for a year – after which he returned to Italy and started his career as an artist. In the 1950s, he worked for the Cinecittà movie studios in Rome, the largest in Europe, where he collaborated with Federico Fellini on films like La Strada (The Road, 1953-54), making the sets.
His artistic practice bears little resemblance to old-school academic training involving even meticulous jewellery-making skills: the modernity of his approach to painting and sculpture is striking even more than half a century later. In his hands, the unprimed jute and sackcloth canvases he uses have become objects, which he stripped of their threads until they revealed a three-dimensional vulnerability, producing ineffable and profoundly moving works, as if Emblema wanted to put us in the presence of total bareness, exposed in front of our eyes without any protection. On this manipulated, de-threaded, revealed and undressed jute and sackcloth canvas, he applied pigments produced by grinding stones and volcanic sand that he collected from the nearby Mount Vesuvius. Colour is spread on the semi-transparent surfaces in matt layers that add a feeling of earthly stillness and evoke the way in which paint adheres to a wall.
Maybe his time spent as a cameo carver awoke a desire to explore the layers underlying every surface. Maybe the 2,000-year-old Pompeian frescoes, just four kilometres from Emblema’s birthplace, instilled a sensitivity for the way in which colour embraces the rough surface of a wall. And maybe a sense of theatricality might have been fostered by his time spent producing film sets in Rome. But even if we want to look for possible sparks that inspired Emblema’s work, the way in which he stripped down the canvases, exposing their vulnerability and physicality, is deeply original and very powerful: troubling, in a gentle but impudent way. Something unexpectedly sensual, even sexual, is aroused by these distressed, exposed threads, stirring up in the viewer a potent bond with his works, as if we are watching a lover taking off their clothes, exposing themselves in their most vulnerable state. Or as if we were watching ourselves, peeling off our external layers to reveal what we are underneath it all. In an autobiographical note, Emblema even quotes Leonardo da Vinci saying that “to get to the essence of things, you must remove, not add”.
The works on display at White Cube, all untitled, offer a panoramic view of Emblema’s trajectory, curated in a way that brings us from the most openly sensual works to his tall, metallic, open net sculptures – where his guiding statement on his own art, “I belong to the light”, seems to be taken to its furthest limit – to a return to painting.
A red, threadbare canvas from 1975, with four bands where the jute’s threads have been painstakingly removed, so as to produce small overtures in the areas where both weft and warp have been de-threaded, feels strangely intimate, as if we were looking at a pair of nylon stockings with an accidental ladder, an unexpected transparency that evokes close connection with partially clothed bodies. Elsewhere, the pink-bordered, doubly de-threaded lines (Untitled, 1970) interrogate us from the frame like a strange, lingering equation.
But this is not a loud, in-your-face sensuality. Rather, it is a pull of which we become slowly aware, as if taken aback by the possibility that a material as rough as jute could evoke such tender emotions. As his choice of the Leonardo quote reveals, Emblema’s pursuit of nakedness and of a stripped-down materiality has been a lifelong quest. This is confirmed by Emanuele Leone Emblema, grandson of the artist and director of the Museum Emblema in Terzigno:
“His canvases were denuded, de-woven. The transparency you see is not a precondition of the material, of the fabric, but a signature practice that differentiates his work from that of others: the transparency, the veiling and unveiling of the canvas itself.”
The subversion of the canvas-as-surface becomes even more pronounced in works such as Untitled/Diagonal (1975), where the jute has been de-threaded so thoroughly as to make it completely transparent, allowing us to see a diagonal blue band of jute attached to the back of the canvas. Through this transparency, the wall on which the work is hung also becomes part of the painting.
“Emblema’s canvases become an interruption in the spatial continuum, and the transparencies play with the wall behind them: it is the painting that becomes a wall, relating itself with the other wall, the one made with bricks that is visible behind it,” says Emanuele Leone Emblema.
Through this structural decomposition, the canvas is both space and object, conveying a static atmosphere with architectural echoes – something that would emerge further in his sculptures. Here, too, materiality has been totally stripped of its substance, revealing a pared-down essence. An untitled structure from this period (1972) is made of a series of metallic nets, of the type used to reinforce concrete, coated in organic pigments – mostly blue, red and white – and left, as naked as the de-threaded canvases, hanging from a suspended cord. Emblema’s lifelong concern and search for light, which he said he was “chasing like a lover”, finds in his sculptures a total material subversion, making the essence of reinforced concrete as see-through and weightless as minimalist embroidery.
After this exploration, Emblema returned to painting. “Having erased everything and having placed sculpture into the landscape, he goes back to painting, this time imitating the movement of the landscape itself – through very stylised and abstract landscapes, [but] still recognisable as such,” says his grandson. “The colours he uses are earth pigments taken from Pozzuoli [a small port city near Naples and Vesuvius], meaning he chooses to paint the landscape with the landscape itself.”
The Pozzuoli pigments, when left undyed, have a red-earth hue, linking his works even more solidly with the land of his birth, as this is the same colour we can see in the many Neapolitan noble palazzos that used Pozzuoli’s earth for their surface painting, creating what is known as Neapolitan red. One example from these years is a beautiful untitled canvas from 1980, where the jute is not de-threaded, even if this type of fabric is not as compact as a primed cotton canvas. On it, an abstract mountain, maybe a volcano, sits behind a large black and blue-green form, suggestive of a hill with houses in the middle. The black pigment comes from volcanic lava, while the turquoise green is copper oxide, used in local agriculture to stimulate plant growth and as a pesticide. The canvas is no longer stripped of its materiality yet the search for light and transparency remains anchored in the large patches of colour, evocative of the materiality of a landscape seen in memory or in a heartfelt longing.
Thus, the arc of Emblema’s art goes from the revelation, near impudicity, of an undressed canvas, through the search for the most transparent essence of what is contained inside concrete to a place where we once again long for what we can’t hold in our hands. A memory. A light. The sight of our vulnerability.
薩爾瓦托雷・恩布勒馬（1929年-2006年）出生於那不勒斯附近的泰爾齊尼奧（Terzigno），他最初接受的是頗為傳統的藝術教育。他先就讀藝術學校，學習成為浮雕珠寶雕刻師（該技術帶有獨特的那不勒斯風格，屬於專攻珊瑚雕刻的Torre del Greco流派），之後在那不勒斯大學修讀美術學位。他沒有完成大學學業，反而選擇了到處旅遊——他去了法國、英國和荷蘭，並在紐約待了一年——之後回到意大利，展開他的藝術生涯。在 1950年代，他在位於羅馬、歐洲最大的電影製片廠奇內奇塔（Cinecittà）工作，與費德里柯・費里尼合作為《大路》（1953年-54年）等電影製作佈景。
Peter Hong-Tsun Chan, Kila Cheung, Chow Chun Fai, Kwong Man Chun, Lewis Lee, Ling Wai Shan, Jade Ching-yuk Ng, Pak Sheung Chuen,Tam Kwan Yuen, Angela Yuen Hong Kong Artists Group Exhibition: Imprints of Time Aug 16 – Sep 23, 2025 Opening: Saturday, Aug 16, 4pm – 7pm
Unit 2003-08 20/F, Landmark South 39 Yip Kan Street Wong Chuk Hang T (852) 3703 9246 Tu-Sa 11am – 7pm
Imprints of Time is an ongoing dialogue that transcends temporal boundaries, intertwining memory and the future within the city of Hong Kong. This exhibition features 10 Hong Kong artists from the post-1980s generation to Gen-Z. Their works provide insights into personal and urban identity, reflecting deeply on Hong Kong’s unique culture, history, and the passage of time.
In the rapidly changing landscape of Hong Kong, the city serves as a wellspring of inspiration. Each artwork acts as a temporal marker, bearing witness to past and present, and capturing fleeting moments of beauty. Through drawing, oil painting, sculpture, and installation, the artists depict the cultural fusion of the city.
To Sleep and Wake Unafraid / PF25 cultural projects / Basel, Switzerland / Jun 14–22, 2025 /
For his solo exhibition in Basel, Switzerland, Oscar Chan Yik Long created an environment of ink drawings.
Entering the space feels like entering a body, the inner skin of which is covered with images. They are wild and tender, haunting and peaceful, bleeding from memories and experiences, as bodies always carry the traces of our traumas and happy moments. Bleached out in black and white, they are like repercussions of moments lived through: monsters and guardians at the same time. There is no limit, there are no boundaries, only flow, like associations of the mind and bodily fluids, sour and sweet at once.
Exhibition view of To Sleep and Wake Unafraid by Oscar Chan Yik Long at PF25 cultural projects, Basel, June 14 – 22, 2025. Photo: Julian Salinas. Courtesy the artist and PF25 cultural projects.
The space where this happens is a living room in a 16th-century building at the heart of medieval Basel. The walls are structured by painted panels and the ceiling is held up by mighty wooden beams, which together already create the atmosphere of a cosy cave, where time takes a breath and the heartbeat can slow. This most private of rooms is given to artists from time to time by curator Angelika Li and her partner Donald Mak, as part of their platform PF25 cultural projects.
This time it was Oscar Chan Yik Long’s turn. The Hong Kong-born artist, currently based in Helsinki, was a PF25 artist in residence in Basel in 2022, when he also featured in the group exhibition Homeland in Transit: Carried by the Wind. This resulted in his stupendous body of work about the Hong Kong filmmaker Wong Kar-wai, especially from the two films As Tears Go By (1988) and Days of Being Wild (1990), with Chan drawing scenes featuring characters smoking and underlining them with his own thoughts about missing Hong Kong and the situation there.
Exhibition view of To Sleep and Wake Unafraid by Oscar Chan Yik Long at PF25 cultural projects, Basel, June 14 – 22, 2025. Photo: Julian Salinas. Courtesy the artist and PF25 cultural projects.
For this year’s solo exhibition, he chose to immerse viewers in global mythology, with an installation developed out of the characteristics of the space. Three small, elongated ink drawings were enlarged and printed on three panels of flag fabric that stretched across the ceiling. They showed monstrous figures from different cultures, such as Chronos from Greek mythology, who is known for devouring his children, as well as manga characters. Morpheus is killing his siblings; there are numerous skulls and eyeballs; the Three Fates represent past, present and future; and there are classical features like the mountains and seas of traditional Chinese painting.
The title of the exhibition, To Sleep and Wake Unafraid, is taken from Ingmar Bergman’s 1968 movie Hour of the Wolf and refers to the present global situation, with wars and manifold uncertainties. But it also has a personal dimension: “Ninety-five percent of the dreams I remember are nightmares,” says Chan, while walking me through the exhibition. “And I love watching animations and horror movies from the 50s to the 90s where there is no CGI yet and you can still see how the atmosphere is created.” So it is no surprise the central panel shows a fight between a god of dreams and a monster. “It is a privilege to live without fear,” Chan says, pointing out that fear is a nearly universal feeling today but a rare subject in art. He uses fear to ask existential questions about how we deal with and even play with it, how we are watched and controlled by digital technologies, how our beliefs help us to deal with it and how we live our lives up till death.
As in his other enormous wall works in Freiburg, Germany and London, Chan develops compelling imagery that lets the visitor float in a timeless universe of associations that is nevertheless calm. The monsters from a previous series, A Horror to the Eyes of All Men Seeking Faith (2023), shimmer from the walls as demons and guardians at the same time. Decadence is the topic of these fallen angels. That Chan uses ink for his work even when painting directly on the walls heightens this impression by allowing a flow that can be soft in one corner and harsh at the next moment. If his imaginative associations were linked to philosophy, Plato’s cave would be the place.
Exhibition view of To Sleep and Wake Unafraid by Oscar Chan Yik Long at PF25 cultural projects, Basel, June 14 – 22, 2025. Photo: Julian Salinas. Courtesy the artist and PF25 cultural projects.
The latest and smallest piece in the exhibition resumes the theme of the cigarette and links it to the body: on a small tray in a corner of the room rests a pack of cigarettes protected by a Plexiglas box. Chan removed the tobacco by hand and painted ink drawings of monsters on the paper. It was a pack of Marlboros, the sort of cigarettes that are culturally connected with stout masculinity. In the piece The most misplaced worry 2, they are without the brand imagery, have lost their power of seduction and stand for an act of self-salvation. “My former partner, like my dad, was a heavy smoker of Marlboros, and as a child I was in fear about the health of myself and my family,” says Chan. Fear: here it is again. Even the smallest object can hint at this personal, and currently also cultural, monster defining our lives. This compelling exhibition connects private life and global concerns.
Chan’s artist book My Body Is a Reincarnated Population was launched in Basel along with the exhibition. The show will have a second chapter, They Always Look from the Imagined Above, at the Radvila Palace Museum of Art in Vilnius, Lithuania this November.
To Sleep and Wake Unafraid PF25文化項目 瑞士巴塞爾 2025年6月14日至22日
此次輪到陳翊朗。這位出生於香港、現居赫爾辛基的藝術家，曾於 2022 年作為PF25駐地藝術家在巴塞爾進行創作，並參與群展「Homeland in Transit: Carried by the Wind」。期間他創作了一系列以香港導演王家衛為主題的精彩作品，尤其是聚焦電影《旺角卡門》（1988年）和《阿飛正傳》（1990年）——陳氏描繪了片中人物吸煙的場面，並在其中注入自己對香港的思念之情及當地現狀的思考。
是次展覽名「To Sleep and Wake Unafraid」取自英瑪·褒曼1968年的電影《午夜魔踪》，既影射當下戰爭頻發、充滿不確定性的環球局勢，也暗含藝術家的個人體驗。「在我能記得的夢中，95%都是噩夢，」陳氏在導覽時坦言，「我愛看50至90年代的動畫與恐怖片，那時還沒有電腦特效，你能看到氛圍是如何被營造出來的。」因此，展廳中央懸掛的旗布上呈現著夢神與怪物搏鬥的場景，也就不足為奇。陳翊朗指出：「能無所畏懼地活著是一種特權。」他指出，如今恐懼幾乎是一種普世情緒，卻極少成為藝術創作的主題。他借助恐懼叩問生存問題：我們如何應對乃至把玩恐懼？數碼科技如何監視與控制我們？信仰如何幫助我們對抗恐懼？以及，我們該如何渡過向死而生的一生？
如同陳氏在德國弗萊堡和倫敦創作的那些大型牆體作品一樣，他構建出極具感染力的意象，讓觀者漂浮在一個永恆而寧靜的聯想宇宙中。 過往系列作品《A Horror to the Eyes of All Men Seeking Faith》（2023年）中的怪物形象，正從牆面中隱現，既是惡魔，也是守護者。這些墮落天使指向 「頹廢」的主題。即便直接在牆面作畫時，陳氏仍堅持使用水墨，這更強化了觀感印象：水墨流動時，可在一隅柔和暈染，轉瞬又成凌厲筆觸。若要為他這些天馬行空的聯想找到哲學關聯，柏拉圖的洞穴隱喻或許是最佳注腳。
展覽中最新且最小型的作品重拾了香煙主題，並與身體意象相連：展廳角落的小托盤上，放著一包用有機玻璃罩保護起來的萬寶路香煙。陳氏親手剔除煙絲，並在卷煙紙上繪制了水墨怪物圖。這原本是一包萬寶路，這種香煙在文化中常與男子氣概掛鈎。而在這件名為《The most misplaced worry 2》的作品中，香煙去除了品牌標識，失去了誘惑力，轉而成為自我救贖的載體。「我的前任伴侶和我父親一樣，都是萬寶路『煙剷』，小時候的我總為家人和自己的健康憂心忡忡，」陳氏說道。恐懼——這個命題在此再度出現。即使最微小的物件，也能揭示這一定義著我們的生活、兼具個人性和當代文化性的怪物。這場引人入勝的展覽，將個體生活與全球議題縝密關聯。
陳翊朗的藝術家手書《轉世成身》與該展覽一同時間在巴塞爾出版。是次展覽的第二篇章「They Always Look from the Imagined Above」，將於今年11月在立陶宛維爾紐斯的Radvila Palace博物館舉行。
Reframing Strangeness / Para Site / Hong Kong / May 10 – August 10, 2025 /
Typhoon season in Hong Kong is brutal. Tree limbs snap and fall. Ships are damaged or even run aground. Roads flood or, worse yet, cave in.
But the rain gave Ha Bik Chuen inspiration. Specifically, he saw how the shoes of pedestrians left imprints on newsprint that lay stuck to the ground after it dried, the paper moulded with new bumps and contours, traces left by the people who had walked through as they sought cover from the deluge.
Installation view of Reframing Strangeness: Ha Bik Chuen’s Motherboards and Collagraphs, Para Site, Hong Kong, 2025. Photo: Felix SC Wong.
The artist decided to dedicate part of his practice to making paper artworks with pronounced bumps and grooves. Ha needed a way to shape the sheets, so he made more than 100 collagraph plates, which he called “motherboards”, between 1974 and 1995. The process surely drew upon the woodworking skills that he acquired as a teenage apprentice in a construction and decoration workshop in Jiangmen. With these print matrixes, Ha created an estimated 3,000 collagraphs, each with about six layers of paper and pigment applied. This element of Ha’s practice is the focus of Reframing Strangeness, an exhibition at Para Site.
The artist expressed a range of influences in his motherboards, drawing from ancient Chinese history as well as the environs around his home and studio in To Kwa Wan. He incorporated natural materials, mainly dried leaves, that he collected from various locations, including Macau.
From Ancient to Modern by Ha Bik Chuen, 61 x 78.7 cm, 1983. Courtesy the Ha Family.
From Ancient to Modern (1983) features Ha’s interpretation of an oracle bone, with leaves and rattan embedded on the board and “Hong Kong” carved into the surface in both English and Chinese. There’s more engraved script that is stylistically similar to jiaguwen, the earliest known form of Chinese writing, which was preserved on tortoise shells and bones. This is familiar imagery for almost anyone educated in Hong Kong and mainland China – the oracle bones are proof that establish the existence of the Shang dynasty (circa 1600-1046 BCE), and children are taught about these artefacts and the writings they bear to acknowledge their Chinese cultural heritage.
Ha’s motherboards were cast as not only tools to make art but also artworks in their own right – mosaics, relief, collage. This was most evident in the imagery of Sacred (1975), featuring a monolithic, complex composition. The arrangement involves what appears to be a geometric tower, starting with a trapezoidal base and a rectangular trunk that extends upwards. At the top, a rhombus houses triangles, squares and finally a circle at its centre. The pieces forming this board embody a range of textures – 13 in all – giving them a wider variety of natural grain than other artworks in the show.
The motherboards are presented at Para Site so that their backs can be viewed as well, telling another part of Ha’s story. These normally hidden sides reveal how Ha used wooden pallets and crates that were likely found in To Kwa Wan and that also served as his ledger pages to track the collagraph editions that he had produced and sold.
Look closely to find a few names that appear multiple times, across different motherboards’ records. “Nigel”, for instance, was almost certainly the late South China Morning Post art critic Nigel Cameron, who wrote for the daily between 1972 and 1994. There are records of Ha making collagraphs for exhibitions in Poland, West Germany and local presentations in Hong Kong.
One object in Reframing Strangeness is easy to miss – a low table borrowed from Ha’s Thinking Studio in To Kwa Wan. It was on its modest surface that Ha did some of his artistic work. It isn’t difficult to imagine him seated by it, stamping, pounding, painting, laboriously adding layers of paper and pigment, gradually shaping a collagraph to his own satisfaction. Possibly this table was also where Ha and his guests would convene, perhaps to discuss a new concept or reference that Ha mined from one of the many publications that packed his studio’s shelves.
Installation view of Reframing Strangeness: Ha Bik Chuen’s Motherboards and Collagraphs, Para Site, Hong Kong, 2025. Photo: Felix SC Wong.
The exhibition at Para Site primarily presents Ha’s motherboards, collagraphs and a few gouache drawings, but it embodies much more. Reframing Strangeness is the first time in 31 years that his artworks have been presented in a solo exhibition, according to the artist’s daughter. It is a show that reaches back into Ha’s artistic practice, the output of which lay dormant in his packed studio, which remained largely untouched for years after his death in October 2009.
Ha is now primarily known as an important figure who compiled an encyclopedic personal archive, including comprehensive photo documentation of exhibitions and candid moments involving cultural figures. He started taking these photographs in the early 1980s, when he bought his first camera, and continued doing this until his death in 2009, adding layers of attestation and references to the city’s art scene, much like his meticulous work to create every collagraph. Reframing Strangeness provides a refreshed look at his diverse practice, recalling how a self-taught artist was able to assemble a wide-ranging body of work and unique records of Hong Kong’s art scene for decades.
A graduate of the Department of Fine Arts at The Chinese University of Hong Kong in the early 1980s, Chak Chung was deeply influenced by the renowned artist Liu Kuo-sung. Over the past four decades, he has engaged in an extensive exploration of diverse painting traditions, from Chinese landscape to modernism. Shortly after completing his undergraduate studies, Chak relocated to Tokyo to further his artistic education, subsequently moving to New York, where he resided and worked until 2009. Upon returning to Hong Kong, he established his studio in Fotan, where he continues to investigate the possibilities of painting as a medium, striving to grasp the elusive beauty and inherent chaos of the natural elements and the human condition.
Summer of the Jubilee Reservoir by Chak Chung, 30 x 40 cm, 2024. Courtesy the artist.
Caroline Ha Thuc: Most of your artworks are landscape paintings and portraits of Hong Kong. They express the pull and push between elements and are generally free from people. Chak Chung: Socialising is one of my major weaknesses. I find people’s behaviours intimidating, and interacting with strangers drains my energy. Maybe that is why I am drawn to painting landscapes rather than focusing on mankind. I find solace in observing the sea, the sky and the ocean. These natural elements calm me and provide a sense of peace. The push-and-pull dynamics represent the endless turbulence of introspection.
CHT:Is painting the landscape of Hong Kong an attempt to revisit Chinese classical painting? CC: I have been in this field for too long. It seems that no one has made any significant breakthroughs in classical Chinese painting for quite a while. As I am near the end of my journey, I would like to make one last attempt at pursuing this quest. I’m not certain if I can achieve the goal but it’s worth a try.
CHT:What could the relevance of this classical approach to painting be when thinking about our current relationship with nature? CC: In the past, one of the mainstream schools of thought was to be “one in harmony” with Mother Earth. Similarly, the ancient Chinese philosophical ideology of 天人合一 [unity of nature and humanity] reflects this concept. Since then, our tie with nature has evolved and is now quite different.
Personally, neither exactly sits right with me. For instance, nature has presented itself as a reckless, ruthless entity. It has always acted on its accord and has no intention to be benevolent and all-loving towards mankind. The human species is merely one small fraction of the vast ecosystem, while nature encompasses the totality of the universe. Such is the overarching theme of all my paintings.
CHT:Why is it important for you to work in dialogue with this heritage? CC: Heidegger once mentioned that the common norms of society, whether spoken or not, are unanimous everywhere. Their governing power has long existed before you and I were born. Such benchmarks teach us all matters in life, from the books we read or are prohibited to the ways we assess our surrounding environment. At the end, we are moulded into a so-called “normal person”. Our identity or self-searching has little to do with originality and thus emancipation. We are who we are, which is a cross-section of time and history: the result of a long line of heritage.
CHT:You were aboard for almost 30 years; what motivated you to come back? CC: My return was triggered by two unexpected incidents.
The first involves Franz Dahlem, a friend and former gallery owner from Germany. One day, he asked me, as an Asian, what I was bringing to the art scene in New York. I felt ashamed.
The second event harks back to my years living in downtown New York City, which coincided with the tragic occurrence of 9/11 and the collapse of the Twin Towers. In the aftermath of that disaster, the neighbourhood was heavily secured by armed personnel and food supplies dwindled significantly. I managed to survive for two weeks. This experience led me to explore two fundamental questions – a: who am I? And b: what is the meaning of life?
Send in the Clowns by Chak Chung, 122 x 183 cm, 2023. Courtesy the artist.
CHT:What do you think of your identity now? CC: I believe that no one can completely master their self. Based on Chinese philosophy, my goal is akin to that of ancient Greek masters: namely, why can’t humans be as infinite as mountains? This puzzle guides us toward the ultimate. “Where do I come from and where am I going?”
When I began painting Hong Kong shan shui (山水), it symbolised a sense of eternity. However, over the years, my artistic expression has evolved. What once was a pure homage to nature has gradually incorporated subtle references to my emotional connection with my homeland, Hong Kong. For example, in The Whistle Blower (2025), I depict a form resembling a windpipe or whistle in the lower right corner. The white vapour emanating from it serves as a warning signal – a call for friends to flee.
CHT:In the 17th-century painter Shitao’s famous treatise about painting, Sayings on Painting from Bitter Gourd Monk, he says that there should be no rule, or rather a rule saying that there is no rule: would you agree? CC: I wholeheartedly agree with Shitao’s viewpoint. In my artistic practice, I strive for unpredictability. This approach serves as a time-recording mechanism through which I convey my perspective of “no beginning or end”. Embracing a free spirit, my art becomes an expression that contrasts against rigid structures and constraints. Rules establish a basis for predictability. Therefore, I believe the real challenge lies in how we can anticipate the dynamics of nature without falling into monotony.
CHT:In his treatise, he describes the sea and mountains as interconnected, which is also what we see in your landscapes. CC: To me, the sky, the ocean and the mountains form a vast and interconnected unity. In Lacan’s words, these elements represent a mirror image, indifferent to one another. The philosopher introduced such a mirror to illustrate the concept of self-alienation. But what is the self without the influence of the outside world? I once perceived the sunset as a vibrant red circle descending and eventually being enveloped by the sea. C’est la vie! The so-called fireball will, as always, rise again from the east tomorrow. Fire, water, wood, metal and earth are intricately intertwined.
The Nonconformists by Chak Chung, 30 x 40 cm, 2024. Courtesy the artist.
CHT:You told me that you tried to empty your mind before painting but that then you were “going crazy”. Can you elaborate on that? CC: Achieving a state of total relaxation and mindfulness is more akin to meditating than to going crazy. In truth, the mind cannot become entirely blank. Instead, I attempt to eliminate all secular distractions and concentrate solely on the canvas. At that moment, a multitude of possibilities and ideas emerge. One could say that the endorphins start to take control, marking the commencement of the creative journey.
CHT:In some cases, it really feels you are bringing forth the chaos on the canvas. In After the Black Rain (2024), for instance, one can observe a struggle between the black lines that traverse the composition and the broad areas of white that appear to collapse in on themselves. How can you manage to give birth to new forms from such catastrophic chaos? CC: Energy is always an encounter of the static against the mobile, cold struggling with warm, finite versus endless.
The interpretation of this fine drawing can be divided into two layers. On the physical level, the black and grey represent landmasses. They interlock and juxtapose to exist, just as we entwine with nature. The vertical and horizontal lines form the spinal framework, the structure, to balance, neutralise and harmonise such a meltdown. This wonderful marriage creates stability and miraculously enhances the composition.
On a metaphysical level, one can distinguish five individual droplets that emerge from the lower left corner. They symbolise little people like myself. These good fellows are dear friends who are leaving Hong Kong.
CHT:Chinese painters have usually not painted on site but rather constructed imaginary scenes in their studio. On the contrary, you take your paper and pencils when hiking and draw outside. CC: The human brain is extraordinary. Our subconscious is adept at processing and filtering specific elements. When we visit a new environment or encounter novel situations, fleeting thoughts may arise. These ideas can be positive or negative but how we react largely reflects our inner self. The outcome represents the reality or true essence of that particular scene or moment. In short, as artists, there is a choice: either we utilise [the objects through our gaze] as a medium to cultivate back in the studio; or, through our creations, we strive to enact, symbolise and sublimate such experiences.
Back in the studio, with the bases from the sketches laid down on the canvas, transformation begins. According to Alain [philosopher Émile-Auguste Chartier], within the process, a superb artist will revamp the raw material, including the original drawings, into something that even amazes her or himself. That is sublimation.
Typhoon Approaching Hong Kong by Chak Chung, 122 x 266 cm, 2020. Courtesy the artist.
CHT:In your painting, a large white mass features both the sea and clouds, sometimes simultaneously. Traditionally, they stand for the void, something from which everything can emerge. Yet if we look at paintings such as They All Line Up and Leave (2023), they offer a rather dense surface. CC: I’m truly glad you brought this up. The portrayal of the blank space as a representation of the infinite has become somewhat cliched, akin to the fable of the Emperor’s new clothes. To mitigate this risk, I have sought to redefine the true meaning of the void by visually incorporating rich elements beneath layers. The large white and occasionally blue planes in my paintings strive to reveal intricate details, allowing colours to subtly emerge. In this way, I confine the beautiful hues in a delicate sanctuary instead of abandoning them entirely.
Over time, I have developed a strong aversion to large white areas or blank colour fields. As a countermeasure, I strive to incorporate various colours that subtly seep through the lighter top layer to enrich the surface of the canvas. These light tones play a very crucial role in creating definition for the islands, peninsulas, land formations and other structural elements within my work, all of which are essential to my artistic vision.
CHT:In your work, there is no perspective but rather a sense of gravity that leads to a strong dynamic, not necessarily pushing things downwards but taking them in a circular or revolving movement. Are these the dynamics of creation? CC: The sheer power of nature is always fascinating. Documentaries about hurricanes, tsunamis, avalanches and floods capture my attention. Back when I was still living in New York, I frequently travelled upstate to worship Niagara Falls. I often envisioned qi as the invincible flow of perpetually moving air masses. When it surges, the vacuum gets replenished, thus creating a vast, invisible current. Imagine if we look at it from afar, this circulation will initiate a huge, dynamic, circular swirl.
CHT:At the same time, there are many geometrical lines that structure your paintings: the horizontal ones, marking the marine horizon that is always present around Hong Kong, but also many others that seem rather to hold the whole composition. How do you integrate these elements? Do they serve as a kind of backbone to your painting? CC: People oftentimes ask why I choose oil paint and a western medium to induce the Chinese spirit in my art. This choice reflects my upbringing during the period of colonialism. I find myself neither fully aligned with the east nor the west. Similarly, Hong Kong is a city that is full of concrete. Therefore, parts of the wilderness left undeveloped have transformed into an objet petit a [an unattainable object of desire, in Lancanian theory] for modern men like myself. In my paintings, the level lines mostly signify the ocean’s horizons, while the vertical strokes likely symbolise architectural structures. These geometric elements are introduced to contrast with the hills, islands, trees, waves and other organic elements.
The Jubilee Reservoir by Chak Chung, 26 x 35 cm, 2015. Courtesy the artist.
CHT:You also decompose natural elements. For example, in Tolo Harbour (2024), the landscape depicted is deconstructed, as if bands have shifted both horizontally and diagonally, pushed by the effects of tectonic plate dynamics. CC: [Philosopher] Nelson Goodman once cited a butterfly as an example. When we see it in the field, that colourful Tinkerbell is an insect. After taxidermy, it becomes a sample of its species.
To be honest, I can come up with plenty of deconstructivist dogmas or dissect them with the logic of postmodernism’s fragmentation theories. They may be mechanisms in my subconscious, but none of that matters.
Feeling happy and enchanted while laying down the strokes: I simply need that music. Lusting for beauty and yearning for the aesthetic is a sincere response to my inner longing. The unpredictability and creativity of art bring forth excitement. I enjoy every moment in the midst of it.
CHT:Tell me more about your self-portrait as an octopus. CC: In my youth, I often felt unfocused. This led my mother to refer to me as an octopus, due to its many tentacles reaching in various directions. This imagery has subsequently been integrated into some of my works.
CHT:At the back of your drawings and sketches, I can also see lots of writing. How do words interact with your act of painting? CC: Ideas are like bubbles in wine; they emerge and dissipate while I contemplate. These thoughts and emotions evolve over time. Writing serves as a memorandum. I frequently revisit and transform previous works without hesitation. Jotting down notes serves a dual purpose: it reminds me of the original concept, denoting a specific idea, and inspires further development.
CHT:You add layer after layer, revisiting the same painting many times, sometimes over several years. Some paintings bear different dates, for example An Uncanny Gay Day (2021-23). How is your gaze changing over the time? CC: Inside the studio, I am an absolute tyrant. When revisiting old pieces and finding them shallow or not up to par, I never hesitate to give them a surgical facelift. “The world has more than enough masterpieces” is my motto. It means there is no room for another mediocre “Chak”. The various dates on An Uncanny Gay Day denote a marking, cautioning that perfection is still beyond my reach.
CHT:Beauty seems paramount for you, or at least a sense of balance and harmony. When do you feel satisfied? CC: That’s right. My art revolves around the unachievable goal of aesthetic pleasure and poetry. Consequently, I find myself continually striving for a level of enchantment that often feels elusive.
[Poet, playwright and novelist] Théophile Gautier once pondered what life would entail if flowers ceased to exist. Beauty, including music, is essential for humans. To me, nature is full of beauty and wonder. Through creation, artists transcend material reality and challenge the very essence of nature.
The Whistle Blower by Chak Chung, 100 x 147cm. Courtesy the artist.
CHT:Are there any writers, philosophers or artists who have influenced you? You’ve mentioned philosopher Martin Buber and art critic Robert Pincus-Witten. CC: Robert and Gabriel Laderman were my mentors at Queens College, CUNY [City University of New York]. So were Liu Kuo-sung and James Watt, who accompanied my growing up at The Chinese University of Hong Kong. They remind me of the presence of extraordinarily knowledgeable individuals.
Philosophers from diverse cultures offer valuable insights, making it challenging to pinpoint just one influence. For instance, I appreciate Wittgenstein’s assertion that “the limit of my language is the end of my world”. Additionally, Ch’ien Mu, in his work Ten Lectures on Life, pointed out that a learned individual does not retire. Instead, they uphold their morality until the end, ultimately laying down peacefully without regret.
CHT:Beyond the search for the essence of the forces that shape the world, you told me that painting is above all about life. What did you mean? CC: In ancient Greece, “alive” was defined as an “animal/being that is speaking”. Life and force or energy can be considered two sides of the same coin. Both point to the very essence of existence. Once involved with existence for the moment, we are under the short-sighted, trivial, materialistic, narrow-minded, confusing spell of phenomenology.
A lot of people disfavour Heidegger and label him a Nazi supporter. On the other hand, his dissertation on life has made a strong impact. He explained that existence is everywhere. It shines through tiny flowers in the field or the cloud above us. Even though we feel it immensely, no one can verify existence. As a result, existence is an everlasting enigma.
Flowers bloom to let us know they have survived. What about humans? We labour and the end product becomes the affirmation. Distinguishing masterpieces and actions of heroes accumulate, which shape the world. Artists work hard to create a painting, a sculpture, an installation. The totality reflects who they are. Through searching for the truth, the process and its reminder become the alibi. That is culture and civilisation.
Caroline Ha Thuc: 你的作品大部分都是香港的風景畫和寫實畫像，描述了不同元素之間的推拉，而且通常不受人類的影響。翟宗浩：社交是我最大的弱點之一。我害怕他人的行動，而且與陌生人交流亦會耗盡我的能量。或許因此我更傾向繪畫風景而不是人。觀看大海、天空和海洋可以撫慰我的心情。這些大自然的元素讓我平靜，為我帶來平和的感覺。推拉的動態變化象徵著人類之間沒完沒了的動盪。
CHT:在某些時候，你會覺得自己正在畫布上創造混亂。例如，在《After the Black Rain》（2024年）中，觀者可以看到貫穿全圖的黑色線條與看似自己崩塌的寬闊白色區域之間的掙扎對比。你是如何從如此災難性的混亂中孕育出新形態的？翟宗浩：能量總是在靜態與動態的碰撞、冷與熱的掙扎、有限與無限的對抗之中產生。
CHT:在你的畫作中，一大片的白色既是海洋，也是雲海，有時同時是兩者。傳統上，它們象徵虛空，萬物皆可在其中出現。可是，當我們觀賞像《They All Line Up and Leave》（2023年）這樣的作品時會發現它們的表面頗厚重。翟宗浩：我很高興你提到了這一點。利用空白代表無限已經有些過於普遍，就像皇帝的新衣的寓言般。為了避免這種情況，我嘗試透過在層次之下加入豐富的視覺元素來重新定義虛空。我的作品中大片的白色和偶爾出現的藍色展現了錯綜複雜的細節，讓色彩巧妙地顯現。透過這種方式，我將美麗的色彩保護在一個精緻的框架中，而不是完全放棄它們。
CHT:同時，你的作品中也有很多以幾何線條構成的結構：水平線條代表著香港周圍一直存在的海平線，但似乎也有許多其他線條支撐著整個構圖。你是如何整合這些元素的？它們是否你的畫中的某種支柱？翟宗浩：人們常常問我為什麼選擇在油畫和西方媒介中融入我的中國藝術精神。這個選擇反映了我在殖民時期的成長經歷。我發現自己既不完全認同東方價值觀，也不完全認同西方價值觀。同樣地，香港是一個處處都是混凝土的城市，因此部分未開發的郊野，對於像我這樣的現代人來說，是「objet petit a」（Lancan理論中意指無法實現的慾望）。在我的畫中，水平線大多象徵海平線，而垂直線條則多數象徵建築結構。加入這些幾何元素是為了與山丘、島嶼、樹木、海浪和其他有機元素形成對比。
CHT:你也會分解自然元素。例如在《Tolo Harbour》（2024年）中解構景觀，線條彷彿在板塊動力學的影響下橫向和斜向移動。翟宗浩：[哲學家] Nelson Goodman曾以蝴蝶為例。當我們在田野間看到它時，那隻色彩繽紛的小精靈是一隻昆蟲。經過標本剝制處理後，它就變成了蝴蝶標本。
Oscar Chan Yik Long / Jun 14 – 22, 2025 / Opening: Friday, Jun 13, 5pm – 8pm /
PF25 cultural projects Pfeffergässlein 25 Entrance via Nadelberg 33 to Pfeffergässlein 25 4051 Basel, Switzerland T +41 61 209 92 59 By appointment only Exhibition viewing request link
PF25 cultural projects is delighted to present To Sleep and Wake Unafraid, Oscar Chan Yik Long’s first solo exhibition in Switzerland and the opening chapter of his two-part solo series unfolding in 2025. Part of PF25’s Spring Programme and the Art Basel VIP Programme, this site-specific presentation takes place in a 16th-century building in the heart of Basel’s Old Town.
Known for his ink paintings and large-scale ephemeral murals, Chan’s practice draws from East Asian philosophy, mythology, and spiritual traditions, interwoven with Western classical and symbolist influences. Horror cinema and global pop culture further shape his visual language, bridging ancestral memory with contemporary experience. In recent years, he has focused on the holistic links between the human body and emotions in Chinese tradition—particularly how fear, anger, anxiety, sadness, and joy correspond to internal organs.
Titled after a line from Ingmar Bergman’s 1968 film Hour of the Wolf, the exhibition reflects on the liminal hours before dawn—when the conscious and unconscious intermingle. For Chan, these early hours resonate with those navigating complexity and difference in their lived experience, while also expressing a universal longing—and right—for self-understanding, healing, and renewal.
The exhibition examines how daily gestures shape the body and mind, and how these, in turn, transform one another. Drawing on Traditional Chinese Medicine, Chan explores the interplay between physical and emotional states through repetition, ritual, and vulnerability.
A new cycle of paintings and an installation, also titled To Sleep and Wake Unafraid, introduces phantasmagorical figures from Chan’s evolving personal mythology. At its centre is The fight between dream and nightmare (2025), where two protagonists clash amidst a constellation of hybrid beings, mythic figures, and wandering souls. The two may evoke Morpheus and Phobetor—mythical personifications of dream and nightmare—yet are reimagined through Chan’s own cosmology, shaped by Eastern mythology and personal iconography.
These motifs extend into the overhead textile installation, To Sleep and Wake Unafraid(2025), where Chronos grips a clock in the East; skeletal armies gather in the South; a protective flower deity rises in the West; and in the North, a hybrid bestiary emerges—echoing the ancient Classic of Mountains and Seas. Overhead, the Three Fates perform a choreography of time, drawing viewers into a shifting cosmology of motion and transformation.
Also presented in Switzerland for the first time is A Horror to the Eyes of All Men Seeking Faith (2023), its title drawn from The Exorcist III. This earlier series reflects on fear, decadence, and spiritual collapse through fallen angels. Chan links their descent to human greed and disconnection from nature. In Fallen Angels: Eve, a figure extracts a creature from her body and silences her voice. In Fallen Angels: Adam, a blindfolded figure holds an eyeball in his mouth—still seeing, but unable to speak. These gestures echo the fragility of belief and the existential question: Who am I? For Chan, this question becomes a compass against disorientation—a way through the polarity of illumination and descent. Reflecting on his state of mind while painting the fallen angels, Chan described the glow surrounding them as a reflection of the light he carried in his heart — a quiet manifestation of protection, inner strength, and conflicted grace. Their presence hovers between illumination and descent, offering not only a portrayal of spiritual collapse but also a gesture of resilience in the face of fear and uncertainty.
Emerging from these reflections is The most misplaced worry 2 (2025), a new work that transforms anxiety through quiet ritual. A transparent cigarette box holds twenty tobacco-less paper cylinders, each painted with microscopic worlds inhabited by fantastical beings. The work recalls Chan’s 2022 collaboration with PF25 in Homeland in Transit: Carried by the Wind, inspired by smoking protagonists from Wong Kar Wai’s films. Here, the cigarette becomes a site of personal inscription, where worry is stripped of function and gently reimagined.
The exhibition continues in November with its second chapter, They Always Look from the Imagined Above, at the Radvila Palace Museum of Art in Vilnius, curated by Anders Kreuger, Director of Kunsthalle Kohta, Helsinki.
Featured image: The Fight between Dream and Nightmare (2025) by Oscar Chan Yik Long, Chinese ink on paper, 44.5 x 43.5 cm. Courtesy the artist and PF25.
Take Turns Para Site Hong Kong Mar 15 – May 25, 2025
Wing Po So’s new installation presents itself as a constellation of three sculptural compositions – or “islands”, as the artist refers to them – constructed from old drawers once used in traditional Chinese medicine shops. These drawers, stacked and assembled in varying configurations, give rise to angular structures that appear simultaneously orderly and illogical. Some are positioned vertically, others inverted, open or shut, interlocked with precarious balance, ultimately producing a sense of organised chaos. Within the cold, stark environment of the gallery, the installation emerges as a living enclave – warm wood tones, the subtle scent of earth or dried herbs and a nearly recognisable soundscape evoking rhythmic breaths or pulses, all contributing to a multisensory experience.
So seeks to recreate the dynamic choreography characteristic of traditional Chinese pharmacies. Having grown up in her parents’ shop, she experienced the daily rituals first-hand: opening and closing drawers, climbing stools to reach higher levels, bending towards lower compartments, crushing dried plants, grinding powders and blending ingredients. In this installation, the drawers seem nearly animate, as if poised to resume their habitual motions. Each sculptural unit contains a video depicting hands working against a black background – grinding preparations with a mortar, sifting powders and sorting plant specimens. These are the hands of the artist’s father and mother, as well as her own, filmed by her brother.
Installation view of Wing Po So’s Take Turns at Para Site, Hong Kong, 2025. Photo: Felix SC Wong.
The inclusion of drawers from her family’s pharmacy – originally acquired over 80 years ago by her grandparents – imbues the work with the qualities of a familial portrait. Additional drawers, however, were collected from other Hong Kong pharmacies forced to close, and they too carry the identity and history of their respective establishments. For So, these objects also mark a pivotal moment in her artistic trajectory: the transition from drawing to installation. While she was completing her master’s degree, her parents decided to retire but were reluctant to part with the furniture from their store. As a result, the drawers were stored in the family’s small apartment. This intimate cohabitation likely served as the catalyst for So’s shift toward installation art, inspiring her to incorporate personal and culturally resonant materials into her practice.
Beyond its evocation of cultural heritage, So’s work engages with the epistemological question of how we organise and classify reality. The human impulse to categorise the world around us has long been a defining feature of knowledge production, with each discipline constructing its own taxonomies. Within the compartments of the installation’s drawers, we find an eclectic assemblage: seeds, stones, projected images and small plastic objects produced through 3D printing. In this way, elements of the natural world, technological artefacts and human-made objects coexist and intermingle. Identification is not always straightforward: imprints of seeds are fossilised in plastic sheets; real coral sits alongside its artificial replica; stems resemble anatomical organs. Moreover, some items protrude from their compartments or straddle multiple drawers, disrupting expectations of containment. The system of storage here clearly follows a logic unique to the artist.
Installation view of Wing Po So’s Take Turns at Para Site, Hong Kong, 2025. Photo: Felix SC Wong.
Inspired by the principles of Game of Life, which started life as a board game and is now also available online, So proposes an open, modular system capable of recombination and the generation of new configurations. In contrast to the rigid structures typical of classification systems, her installation offers a dynamic mode of understanding – one that embraces provisionality and transformation. Still, the artist grounds her practice in the mechanics of the living and in scientific observation. She frequently incorporates physical laws into her work, for example embedding magnets into the drawers and using small mechanisms to activate or stabilise components. This is how her oyster shells open and shut with a sharp sound, as if alive. As such, each drawer functions as a surprise container, also evoking notions of secrecy or mystery, as some may conceal hidden compartments or false bottoms.
Overall, there is a communicative joy in So’s engagement with the living world – a sense of wonder at its diverse properties and potentialities. Like an apprentice alchemist, she draws inspiration from cellular reproduction to replicate or reconfigure life forms. For instance, she creates artificial seeds and explores the material potential of her surroundings. How can we learn from nature, she asks. How might we approach it with an awareness of its ongoing evolution, its perpetual transformations and the invisible networks that animate it?
Installation view of Wing Po So’s Take Turns at Para Site, Hong Kong, 2025. Photo: Felix SC Wong.
The disorder she introduces is not merely aesthetic – it is generative. It opens up alternative approaches to the living, emphasising symbiosis and mutual interaction over control and closure.
The Academy of Visual Arts (AVA), School of Creative Arts, Hong Kong Baptist University is proud to present the 18th AVA Bachelor of Arts (Hons) in Visual Arts Graduation Show from May 31 to June 22, 2025. This vibrant exhibition will feature the honours project artworks of 133 graduating students at the AVA Kai Tak Campus.
GeeLeeGooLoo 嘰哩咕嚕 encapsulates the sounds generated during the immersive art-making process and lively discussions. Each student transforms their thoughts into unique artworks, creating a symphony of expression. The graduation show is a testament to the perseverance of artists who convey their ideas through their creations. Throughout their studies, graduates took every opportunity to construct and develop their paths within a shared space. Their works not only showcase their individuality and independence but also demonstrate the unity of a community. Inspiration flows as an abstract sound, sometimes overlooked in everyday life, yet here, it resonates vividly as each graduate contributes their unique voice to the collective dialogue. This year, graduates will present their captivating artworks in the former Royal Air Force Officers’ Mess–now a Grade I historic building. AVA’s Kai Tak campus serves as a dynamic backdrop where history, contemporary arts, time, and space intersect.
AVA Fest Sat, Jun 14, 2025 12am – 7pm
As part of the BA Grad Show, AVA Fest will continue this year as part of the BA Grad Show’s newly established annual art festival. The Graduation Show 2025 Committee invites the audience to experience the artistic atmosphere of AVA and enjoy an unforgettable experience integrating art and community.
At AVA Fest, various art stalls will showcase a wide range of unique art-related products, offering a platform for local artists to showcase their remarkable creations.
The festival will also host screen-printing and cyanotype workshops, allowing participants to explore these special art mediums and learn more about the creative process. Games and live DJ performances will also be held during AVA Fest. Join us for this delightful festival to build connections and celebrate the joy of art as a shared experience.
Registration: Please click here to register. For general enquiries and guided tour booking, please emailavabagradshow@hkbu.edu.hk.
Latest News & Event Registration: To stay updated on the latest news and event registration, please visit the Graduation Show’s Facebook, Instagram, or avagradshowhkbu.com.
Featured image: eyes, deer, and swans by Cheng Yiu Lam, Set of three installations, multi-channel video, sound, interactive installation, duration variable, dimensions variable. Courtesy the artist and AVA, School of Creative Arts, Hong Kong Baptist University.
Wong Hau Kwei / Sui Generis ｜ Ink Art / Jun 6 – Jul 5, 2025 / Opening: Saturday, Jun 7, 3pm Symposium: 3.30pm – 4.45pm, Liao Hsin Tien, Pan Fan, Yuan Chin Tea, Pai Shih Ming Tea & Conversation: 4.45pm
Sunway Art Space 1F, No 134, Xingshan Road Neihu District, Taipei City 11469, Taiwan Tuesday – Sunday 9am – 6pm T +886 2 5582 8000 #611 RSVP: nicolas.hou@sunwayexpress.net
