Understanding the World Beyond Language

Understanding the World Beyond Language

 Written by Lin Ye

In 2019, Hu Yun participated in the Singapore Biennale and created a commissioned work entitled Carving Water and Melting Stone. Subsequently, he planned to hold a solo exhibition at AIKE in 2020 to present this work more comprehensively to a domestic audience. However, the global COVID-19 pandemic completely disrupted his plans. Moreover, residing and working in Belgrade, Serbia, he was unable to return to his home country for three years due to the global shutdown. Like everyone else, faced with this extremely complex and challenging state of life, all language became ineffective. In a sense, during these three years of the pandemic, the entire world fell into a despairing state of aphasia.

Hu Yun, "distantia", site view

The so-called aphasia does not refer to the medical sense of aphasia—a condition caused by the combined deficiencies of speech and language disorders—but rather to the failure of human language to retain, transmit, and comprehend the historical experiences and achievements in science, culture, and arts of human society when confronted with exceedingly complex life circumstances. In these instances, language loses its capacity to facilitate understanding of the world and exchange of ideas. That is, we are unable to accurately grasp the extreme and critical states induced by the pandemic through language.

However, such a holistic state of aphasia is less a consequence caused directly by the COVID-19 pandemic and more a latent condition inherent in human societies, which the pandemic has merely fully triggered.

In Plato's Phaedrus, Theuth presents to Thamus the invention of writing, proclaiming, "O king, my achievement will enhance the wisdom of the Egyptians and strengthen their memory. Without doubt, I have found a potion for memory and wisdom." However, Thamus responds, "You, being the father of letters, have out of fondness for your offspring reversed the properties and the functions of your invention. Those who learn to rely on writing will cease using their memory and become forgetful. They will rely on external symbols to recall, rather than on internal resources. What you have discovered is a recipe for recollection, not a promoter of memory. As for wisdom, your disciples might acquire the reputation without the reality: they will receive a flood of information but not the true teaching from their instructors. Consequently, people will consider them knowledgeable, yet they are mostly ignorant. Because they are conceited and think themselves wise rather than being truly wise, they will become a burden to society.”

Hu Yun, "distantia", site view

Thamus sharply pointed out the alienating function of written language. Such alienation has been deeply embedded in human consciousness since the dawn of human language. The world does not exist within language, but beyond it. When we pose the metaphysical question "What is this?" to the world, the immediate appearances peel away from the substance of the world and become an ambiguous veil that obscures our eyes, blocks our senses, and deprives us of the ability to imagine the world. Thus, originally being within the world, we find ourselves isolated from it, severed from connection. From another perspective, the previously mentioned state of aphasia actually offers us an opportunity to reawaken our sensory perceptions, allowing thought to undertake what Heidegger refers to as the "step back," returning to that concealed world. In this light, the poster outside AIKE gallery for Hu Yun's solo exhibition "distantia" seems particularly poignant. The central informational segment of the poster has been neatly stripped away, revealing the rough, cracked gray surface of the wall behind it. This seems to convey a significant message to each viewer—the exhibition aims to lead us back beyond language, to directly encounter the ineffable reality experienced by Hu Yun.

Hu Yun, Burn Us, Burn Us, Burn Us, 2011-2023, video installation, looped video

Upon entering the exhibition site, one is immediately confronted with a deeply embedded video installation titled Burn Us, Burn Us, Burn Us, which loops footage of a burning candle. Encircled by four mirrors on all sides of the screen, the singular candle is transformed into countless duplicates. The "I" thereby becomes "we" through the mirror effect, and the clever title of the artwork subtly hints at a certain pervasive cognitive impasse hidden behind—the individuals who understand the world through language can easily succumb to cognitive illusions if they lack a keen awareness of the obscurantism inherent in language. In today’s era of highly developed global media communication, the "freedom" we obtain through online dissemination seems to have constructed a perfect cognitive cocoon for us, indulging us in the illusion that "the self is all beings." Such modes of information dissemination further widen and deepen the chasm between the self and the world, not only impairing our ability to better understand the world and communicate with each other but also leading to more severe isolation and disconnection, to the extent that we can no longer see even ourselves clearly. Ultimately, all the frenzy of communication can only lead to endless nothingness, akin to the stark white screen behind the exhibition wall, one of despair.

At the beginning of the exhibition, the work Burn Us, Burn Us, Burn Us seemingly poses a series of significant questions to us: How should we communicate with each other? How should we understand the world? Beyond language, what other means can we employ to communicate and understand each other?

The three paintings titled Palm are strategically placed on three walls within the exhibition hall, echoing each other and forming a continuous basso continuo throughout the exhibition. Hu Yun developed a profound interest in palm trees over a decade ago, not on a botanical basis but stemming from the colonial contexts and narratives associated with these plants. In 2010, Hu spent three months at the Natural History Museum in London, which marked the beginning of his exploration of colonialism from the perspective of natural history. Rather than addressing the broad and complex subject of colonialism from the macroscopic view of modern history, he is more concerned with specific stories of individuals within the colonial context. In his view, "When Westerners arrived in China or Southeast Asia, their experiences, their stories, and the ideas and concepts they brought, intentionally or unintentionally, are somewhat akin to seeds sown inadvertently. These seeds, like wildflowers and weeds, began to grow and gradually evolved into the system we perceive today." On the other hand, in many of his works, he encounters the emblematic imagery of palms, which are often associated with tropical allure. For instance, certain European private collectors or museum institutions seem to perpetuate the need for such icons of palms, which serve as metaphors for the tropics, transporting people into that complex colonial milieu.

Hu Yun, Palm No.13 (Cobra), 2023, watercolor on paper, ink, artist designed frame, 39 x 42.5 x 5 cm (framed) 

Thus, the recurring imagery of Palm in "distantia" creates a symbolic colonial milieu for us, allowing participants in this complex world of cultural exchange and impact to personally experience and contemplate the relationships between individuals and between individuals and the world under the condition of "speechlessness."

By chance, Hu Yun came across a series of Western Mansion Perspective Copperplate Engravings in the collection of a collector. Upon further research, he discovered that this series of engravings represents the only available pictorial material on the Old Summer Palace. The depicted Western Mansions represent the first attempt in China to emulate a European-style garden. The copperplate engravings of the Western Mansion were painted by E'landai, the carving was done by Chinese craftsmen, sent to France for copperplate production, and completed in February of the 51st year of Qianlong's reign (1786).

Hu Yun was particularly interested in the clouds depicted in this series of copperplate engravings. He noted that "the clouds in each plate are unique, suggesting that the artists infused much of their own imagination into these depictions." Moreover, "from a meteorological observation perspective, these types of clouds are rarely seen in nature, let alone in a geographical location like Beijing. These clouds mostly appear over oceans. It can be said that these clouds provided an area where artists of that time could freely express their creativity.”

Hu Yun, Longing for the Wind, 2020-2023, Ink, tracing paper, 60.5 x 97.5 x 3.7 cm (framed) x 20

In fact, this highlights the intriguing nature of "communication." Communication is not a rigid, infallible replication of the original; instead, its essence lies precisely in the misalignment, in the moments when linguistic symbols fail. Perhaps, this failure of linguistic symbols could be interpreted as being "speechless." It is within this subtle realm of "speechlessness" that individuals silently infuse their imagination and agency, giving rise to something quasi-new.

In the work Longing for the Wind, Hu Yun took the dimensions of the original copperplate engravings and removed the buildings, leaving only the "free clouds" floating above where the buildings once stood. Within these peculiar clouds, we discern the true essence of cultural exchange—the spillover of communication occurring within the realm of speechlessness, which fosters cultural integration and evolution. It is on this premise that Hu Yun further explores and extends his imagination regarding these "free clouds."

Following the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, Hu Yun, forced to spend prolonged periods at home, began to replicate the clouds from the copperplate engravings using a syringe pen, drawing them one by one. Gradually, he found himself drawn to the mere sound of the pen strokes against the paper which, in the silence, sounded like the wind and somewhat like the waves. He recorded these sounds, transforming them into an auditory component for this series of drawings. Concurrently, Hu Yun also consciously recorded various natural sounds—such as the noise of rice paddies, the sound of walking in the woods, and the ambient noise of lakesides and seashores—typically subtle sounds that might go unnoticed. Over time, this evolved into a small library of sound materials.

Hu Yun, Wave, 2023, audio installation, tin can, 29.5 x 25.5 x 25.5 cm 

Hu Yun, Meteoropathy, 2023, real-time animation,  (coorprate with artist Jiangnan Hou)

Through this series of creations, Hu Yun has dismantled the grand narrative traditionally associated with the Western Architectural Copperplate Engravings, reducing it to individualistic free imagination and personal will. Through his own experiential practice, he has incorporated these aspects into his life experiences. Further mediated through new media, the ambivalence and uncertainty inherent in these artworks are transformed into metaphors for human cognitive behavior, offering a mode of cultural communication and understanding of the world born from the failure of linguistic symbols.

On the other side of the exhibition site is displayed the commissioned project Carving Water, Melting Stone, created for the Singapore Biennale. This work consists of a video piece and a multimedia installation. The video narrates the story of a Filipino woodcarver.

Years ago, due to his work, Hu Yun learned about a small village in the Philippines where, besides farming, the primary occupation was woodcarving, a tradition left from the Spanish colonial period. The Spanish colonizers had discovered a type of softwood that could survive the humid environment, suitable for woodcarving, which, due to religious demands, turned the village into a hub for producing wooden sculptures. It is said that many churches around the world once used crucifixes made by these Filipino woodcarvers. Fascinated by such stories, Hu Yun took the opportunity of an artistic residency in the Philippines and participation in the Singapore Biennale to conduct an in-depth investigation of this village. He discovered that the local woodcarving industry was in decline, with virtually no one continuing in this trade. In the new globalized context, many woodcarvers have transitioned to becoming ice sculptors, performing ice sculpture shows on international cruise ships.

Hu Yun developed a profound interest in the few remaining local woodcarving workshops. With obtained permission, he began filming a short video, leading to the creation of the video work Carving Water, Melting Stones. In the workshop, Hu found a wooden arm part and asked the woodcarver to imprint it with the texture of branches, attempting to carve it into a semblance of a segment of a tree. This component became the starting point of the video, which meticulously captured the manufacturing process within the woodcarving studio. During this period, Hu Yun discovered that the woodcarver's son, due to autism, did not speak to his father at all, and they seemed to deliberately avoid each other. The woodcarver struggled to find an appropriate way to communicate with his son, who only spoke to his mother, creating a significant rift between them.

Traditionally, in this profession, a generation of woodcarvers would cut trees while also planting new ones for their children to use for future woodcarving, thus creating a cyclical nature intended to sustain the trade indefinitely. In this video work, Hu Yun added a detail where he placed the wood carving, which resembled both an arm and a branch, back into the woodcarver's forest and had the woodcarver's son pick it up and bring it home. In Hu's words, "I deliberately added something between the father and son to initiate a cycle."

In this concise fifteen-minutes video, Hu Yun completely strips away the presence of language, silently presenting the natural scenery of the village, the current state of the woodcarving industry, the working conditions of the woodcarver, and the entangled relationship between the woodcarver and his son. It appears to be a simple story, yet it embodies extremely complex social, cultural, and familial relationships, filled with a mix of helplessness and entanglement. Such complexity is evidently difficult to capture through language alone.

Hu Yun, Carving Water, Melting Stones, 2019-2023, Multi-media installation, constant humidity eco-box, glass sculpture, vegetation, stone, soil , 140.5 × 160 × 118.5 cm

In the multifaceted material installation placed opposite the video work, Hu Yun constructed a miniature ecosystem. Within this eco-box, more than forty species of plants coexist, allowing for a self-sustaining system activated simply by turning on the power. Amidst this environment, reminiscent of a tropical ecosystem, a glass sculpture identical in form to a wood carving that resembles both an arm and a branch, is conspicuously positioned. As observers contemplate this glass sculpture in front of the eco-box, they are transported into the forest depicted in the video piece, metaphor in the position of the woodcarver’s son, thus entering the narrative context of the video and connecting with the characters and events within that world. This experience offers the possibility to share and empathize with the feelings of the individuals depicted.

In the meticulously constructed context by Hu Yun, all spectators are likely to engage fully with their own experiences, memories, and emotions due to the absence of explicit linguistic cues at the site. This compels them to imaginatively bridge the communicative gaps present. It is precisely this situation, where one cannot immediately articulate "what this is" or "what it speaks of," that prompts individuals to attempt understanding the essence using their own life experiences—perceiving how everything began and is sustained. Thereby, viewers are encouraged to confront the matters at hand directly. Cultural interactions and understandings between people may exist within this enigmatic state, where direct translations falter and meanings are divined through personal and collective interpretation.

Interestingly, in a display case in one corner of the exhibition hall, Hu Yun juxtaposes his work Palm No.5 (Wings) with a scroll painted by his son. This arrangement echoes the father-son relationship of the woodcarver in the video, subtly suggesting that a romanticized "silent cycle" might represent an overlooked yet effective mode of communication.

In the exhibition titled "distantia," Hu Yun minimizes the inclusion of linguistic signs and opts, instead, to plan his works based on his authentic sensations, reconstructing contexts centered around the subject matter. He uses ample negative space to invite viewers' experiences, emotions, and imaginations, thus redirecting their focus from an overeager grasp on definitive objects to an imaginative and understanding engagement with the subject matter itself. Importantly, while Hu does not deny the role and utility of linguistic symbols in human communication, he proposes an alternative possibility for understanding and interacting with the world post-language. How should we communicate with each other? How should we understand the world? Perhaps it is not as critical to make seemingly clear and decisive judgments through language symbols as it is to share, coexist within a common context, and traverse the imaginative "paths in the woods" of feelings and experiences.