The Theater Next Door Is Coming Back
Curated by Peixuan Ouyang & Qiuchen Wu
@ mn gallery + studio, October 20 - December 1, 2023
Featuring Frances Lee, Kuna Na, Du Liya, Tin Wai Wong, Yue Xu, and Zespo
The return of the theater is met with enthusiasm from its neighbor with a gathering of several friends’ returns—in many ways and many shifts—to something they, as well as we, have looked at, wondered about, and lived with.
How do artists sustain a consistent creative practice? I've long held an image of an artist as someone who embodies dedication, discipline, motivation, and inspiration – an individual who, despite the challenges, consistently breathes life into their creative visions and nurtures a thriving artistic practice. This image sometimes serves as an inspiring ideal, a role model to strive for. Yet, more often than not, it seems like an elusive myth, a fantasy, or unsolicited advice, hinting that I should explore alternative paths because my creative process doesn't conform to the conventional expectations of a "true" working artist. I'm easily distracted, take pleasure in simply relaxing, and have to juggle numerous responsibilities and interests, which often make creating art feel like a luxury.
When I create, I often feel the need to set my work aside temporarily – not to abandon it, but to return to it at a later time. Sometimes these breaks are deliberate choices, and at other times, they are forced upon me without a set return date. However, when I do come back, with fresh insights, experiences, and tools, these hiatuses, whether brief or extended, allow me to resolve issues, complete projects, or discover new perspectives. I’m incredibly grateful that, with Qiuchen, we are able to bring together six artists who are generously sharing their return.
This exhibition aims to draw attention to how life unfolds in the spaces between brushstrokes, edits, and pages, as well as within the gaps on our CVs – these pauses breathe new life into our creative endeavors. Consider a theater that may have been closed for 40 years; when right circumstances align, it reopens, preserving the historical details without attempting to escape or rewrite the past. This return is an embrace, celebrating the coexistence of the old and the new at the place where it all began. Thank you for being a part of our celebration. — Peixuan Ouyang
Last winter at Jimmy’s the bar, I ran into Zespo watching basketball games quite often. We were mutually amazed by the frequency and one night he asked how I ended up here with that frequency. After making up my answer I asked him the same question and he told me he felt lonely. I stopped seeing him that often after Frances came back from the Marine Biological Laboratory in Woods Hole, MA where she taught college students—presumably oceanology enthusiasts—visual arts so that they would not fall short of the University’s expectation of liberal education. Speaking of oceanology, Tin Wai is selling fish in Brooklyn now. When she was around 20, I met her for the first time in person in Central Park and she told me that she loved Joseph Kosuth in a motherly way. The first time I met Liya—one of the two actual mothers in this show—she cooked us fish. Before the dinner, we found out that we went to the same art prep school—Li Jing’s studio, though not simultaneously—in Beijing which I, strangely, still dreamt of frequently. Kuna is the other mother who gifted me with my first-ever leather jacket. She runs this gallery where I showed a work on girlhood and motherhood last summer. Peixuan was also in that show. They are sharp. The least known person in this show to me is Yue. But, it turns out that we share the same birthday—two Scorpios. — Qiuchen Wu
