Soft Target, 2024
A soft target is a person, object, or place that is relatively unprotected and vulnerable to attacks in military strikes, terrorism, car bombs, or mass shootings. I wonder, in the art context, who is the soft target. What attribute makes a soft target? Maybe it’s genuine care, personal stories, language of the everyday, or sincerity. It might be better to hide behind the armor of theory or abstraction, maybe some people hide because their stories are just not as interesting. In only praise and support of the fieldwork approach / research-based practice of the sharp theoretical faction, the remaining "other" artists are generally lumped together into one category. These other artist are then blamed for not working theoretically enough, not enough substantial nostalgia or pain, not responding to issues in gender and politics directly enough. Soft targets are not entirely innocent in their interactions with their aggressors - so maybe they deserve it. Soft targets are not perfect victims, and the illusion that an art world, which sees itself as inclusive and anti-capitalist, would be accommodating and understanding of different voices, has become the very reason they expose their vulnerabilities and encounter these challenges.
In Soft Target, “artist” took over the exhibition space after months of staying at the residency housing project. Inspired by the story of a man who secretly lived in a convenience store by climbing into a mezzanine through boxes during midnight, the artist blocked the door with cardboard boxes and slept in the exhibition space where one should not stay overnight. Viewers peeked into the romanticized vision of the artist’s idyllic life, oscillating between the residency and the institution, while the artist reflected on institutional and systemic issues within the space: the unfair treatment of part-time labor, the complexity of communication between large departments within institutions and colleges, and the difficult situation of using the artist’s gender and identity as substitution for what should be the institution's own public education efforts and support. The man in the exhibition video is a fellow artist friend Li made during their residency in Denmark. Under Li's lens, he is portrayed like a bird, consuming only small amounts of fruit and self-harvestable sprouts. He sleeps, playing with a music box symbolizing hope. He yearns for a sincere exhibition, one that offers genuine support from both the exhibition and its audience, and dreams of a more inclusive and diverse art ecosystem. Like the Japanese fable Tsuru no Ongaeshi (Crane's Return of a Favor), the artist shed the feather after making the fabric from their own body in return for the exchange of the favor the institution offered to let them stay.
Review by Ara Yun Qiu
A soft target is a person, object, or place that is relatively unprotected and vulnerable to attacks in military strikes, terrorism, car bombs, or mass shootings. I wonder, in the art context, who is the soft target. What attribute makes a soft target? Maybe it’s genuine care, personal stories, language of the everyday, or sincerity. It might be better to hide behind the armor of theory or abstraction, maybe some people hide because their stories are just not as interesting. In only praise and support of the fieldwork approach / research-based practice of the sharp theoretical faction, the remaining "other" artists are generally lumped together into one category. These other artist are then blamed for not working theoretically enough, not enough substantial nostalgia or pain, not responding to issues in gender and politics directly enough. Soft targets are not entirely innocent in their interactions with their aggressors - so maybe they deserve it. Soft targets are not perfect victims, and the illusion that an art world, which sees itself as inclusive and anti-capitalist, would be accommodating and understanding of different voices, has become the very reason they expose their vulnerabilities and encounter these challenges.
In Soft Target, “artist” took over the exhibition space after months of staying at the residency housing project. Inspired by the story of a man who secretly lived in a convenience store by climbing into a mezzanine through boxes during midnight, the artist blocked the door with cardboard boxes and slept in the exhibition space where one should not stay overnight. Viewers peeked into the romanticized vision of the artist’s idyllic life, oscillating between the residency and the institution, while the artist reflected on institutional and systemic issues within the space: the unfair treatment of part-time labor, the complexity of communication between large departments within institutions and colleges, and the difficult situation of using the artist’s gender and identity as substitution for what should be the institution's own public education efforts and support. The man in the exhibition video is a fellow artist friend Li made during their residency in Denmark. Under Li's lens, he is portrayed like a bird, consuming only small amounts of fruit and self-harvestable sprouts. He sleeps, playing with a music box symbolizing hope. He yearns for a sincere exhibition, one that offers genuine support from both the exhibition and its audience, and dreams of a more inclusive and diverse art ecosystem. Like the Japanese fable Tsuru no Ongaeshi (Crane's Return of a Favor), the artist shed the feather after making the fabric from their own body in return for the exchange of the favor the institution offered to let them stay.
Review by Ara Yun Qiu