Who can forget the rise and crash of NFTs? Or miss the media’s burning debates over the authenticity of art? While these discussions have gained rapid momentum across the art market, creatives are forging ahead with new and exciting methods of fusing art with the digital world. They are the latest in a long line of artists who have been tapping into technological realms for decades. From cinema to photography, they have used technological advancements to enhance their practice beyond the limitations of analogue mediums.
One such artist is Shu Lea Cheang, a groundbreaking force who has been at the forefront of technological experimentation since the 1980s. Now, around forty years into her career, the artist shows no signs of slowing down. For the last month, she was honoured by Haus der Kunst in Munich with the survey exhibition, Kiss Kiss Kill Kill. Meanwhile, London’s Tate Modern has been preparing for a dance performance creatively directed by Cheang with Dondon Hounwn called Hagay Dreaming. The performance premiered this weekend as part of the Dance Reflections Festival by luxury French jewellery house Van Cleef & Arpels. Read on to discover the polymath’s evolution and inspirations behind her groundbreaking work.
Born in Taiwan in 1954, Cheang has lived and worked around the globe, from the United States to Japan, the Netherlands, and France. She initially moved to New York in the 1980s, immersing herself in the city’s independent cinema scene. It was here that she began experimenting with new technologies and examining topics such as gamified societies, alternative currencies, and biotechnologies. Somewhat surprisingly, Cheang’s journey into art was somewhat serendipitous. “I studied as a filmmaker and always wanted to make films,” she shares. “But in 1990, I accidentally became an artist. I was doing video, and then it became a video installation.” Her first major work, Color Schemes, debuted in 1990 at the Whitney Museum of American Art, marking a turning point in her career. This installation established her ability to merge cinema and art, a practice that would become central to her career.
‘Trailblazer’, ‘pioneer’, and ‘transformative artist’, are a handful of media buzzwords commonly used to celebrate Cheang’s career. Far from being hyperbolic, they describe an artist and filmmaker who has constantly adapted to the times; using new technologies to explore novel ways to speak about the social and environmental issues underpinning her work. The result? A diverse repertoire of artistic skills, engaging installations, and eco-conscious films. From video, live TV, and network technologies to performance and cinema, the net artist has spent around forty years challenging our understanding of digital culture.
Naturally, Cheang’s Kiss Kiss Kill Kill followed along the same vein; welcoming its visitors with a “machine of experience.” At the heart of the exhibition were a series of installations “designed to immerse the audience in a different world, and inspire new ways of thinking,” says the artist. From its name to themes of sustainability and eco-awareness, the show drew inspiration from the artist’s first feature film, Fresh Kill (1994). A poignant feature which reflected the paradoxical relationship humans have with their environment. “Kiss and kill have to do with this kind of love-hate relationship,” Cheang says. “We love our environment, but we are also killing it. It’s a metaphor for how we treat everything—our ecology, our social structures, and even the LGBTQ community.” This duality, encapsulated in the title, speaks to her ongoing critique of environmental and social issues, including discrimination of the LGBTQ community.
A queer artist herself, Chaeng has engaged with LGBTQ communities across the world. This journey, from New York in the 80s and 90s to Europe as a self-described “digital nomad,” has shaped her worldview. “I’ve always felt connected with marginalized communities, particularly the LGBTQ community, no matter where I go,” she reflects. “In the UK, I’ve worked with the trans queer community, and I feel very connected to those communities in every city I visit.” Throughout her films, Cheang has been careful to cast LGBTQ performers while not overtly signalling or identifying their genders on-screen. This subtle nod to the community enhances the authenticity of the films’ narratives; projecting convincing, ‘lived-in’ environments that invite viewers to question their own realities.
Deconstructed electric blue gadgets, trash, skulls, and more guided visitors through several galleries functioning as “unique worlds” in their own right. As the exhibition included pieces created throughout Cheang’s career, the artist was asked by Sarah, Haus der Kunst’s curator, to recreate works which have sadly disintegrated over time. Perhaps the apex of the feat was the reconstruction of the burnt car first devised in a 2022 project called Portal to the Nest, for the Ulsan Art Museum in Korea. The original project began when Cheang learned that Hyundai, a major Korean car manufacturer, destroys thousands of cars each day after testing them. “Every day, they destroy 3,000 cars that can’t go into the market,” she says. This stark industrial waste left a lasting impression on the artist. “Cars are fascinating because of our obsession with speed, but at the same time, they are a symbol of our ecological abuse,” Cheang adds.
Unable to source a car directly from Hyundai, Cheang discovered a burned-out car in a junkyard. The car, with its charred remnants, became central to the installation and captured Sarah’s attention when she was choosing which works should be on show in Munich. Tasked with recreating the piece, Cheang’s approach to the car’s deconstruction expanded as she thought about Germany’s social climate. “I wanted to explore the idea of social unrest,” she says. “In Germany, there’s a history of youth burning cars, especially around New Year’s Eve.” With this in mind, Cheang adorned the car with vibrant graffiti; serving a bold commentary on rebellion and protest. “Graffiti enhances the idea of social unrest,” she notes. “It’s a way of reclaiming space and expressing rebellion.”
Re-making the car in Munich posed its own challenges. “It turned out that it was illegal to burn a car in Germany,” Cheang laughs. Undeterred, the Museum’s team turned to the local fire department for assistance. “They helped us burn the car in a small village outside Munich,” Cheang explains. The car was left to rust in the field for several months, before being brought back to the museum for display. The final piece was a confrontational installation of smouldered machinery, neon paint and sprawling wood, fungi, mycelium and branches. Almost reclaiming the man-made object, the organic materials were a haunting reminder that the world and its minerals are not humanity’s playthings to destroy and discard at will. Never creating without a purpose, Cheang’s use of mycelium is connected to her work as a co-producer of the Mycelium Network Society. The initiative comprises a network of artists whose collective research into technology, and ecology emulates the mycelium’s capacity to process and share information. Together, the mushrooms form a “neurological network” that communicates to one another across the forest floor.
On March 15th, we had the pleasure of attending Cheang’s world premiere of Hagay Dreaming. The powerful performance was created in collaboration with Taiwanese artist Dondon Hounwn and took place in The Tanks at the Tate Modern. The collaboration between Cheang and Hounwn blended two distinct worlds: Cheang’s pioneering use of new media and Hounwn’s heritage as a shaman and performer of the Truku people’s traditional dance and rituals. Together, they combined electronic technology with age-old tribal performance to create a dynamic artistic experience.
The stunning visual and sonic journey explored the myths of Taiwan’s Truku tribe. Dancers choreographed by Dahu moved through horizontal and vertical laser beams: symbolic of weaving, rain, and hunting. Meanwhile, a soundtrack fused contemporary classical music with traditional Truku rhythms. The music emanated from solo vocalist Shan Shan Chen and other performers trained in Elug Art Corner, an initiative founded by Hounwn to preserve Truku cultural heritage. Through six acts, they followed the tale of a hunter who, seeking refuge from a storm, falls asleep inside a hollow tree. While dreaming, the hunter encounters Hagay, a group of non-binary spiritual beings, who impart ancestral wisdom about hunting, weaving, and living. “These beings are neither men nor women,” says Cheang. “They represent a transgressive space, which ties into today’s discourse on non-binary identities.”
The project, which first began in 2020 with producer Ping Yi Chen, was built upon the Truku principle of Gaya: the interconnectedness of all beings. It also felt emblematic of Cheang’s core values and artistic expression. From advanced technology and the human spirit, to themes of gender fluidity, innovation and nature, Hagay Dreaming connected us to all that is significant to the artist.
Learn more about Hagay Dreaming at hausderkunst.de.
words. Raegan Rubin
