HONG KONG’S CONCEPTUAL CIRCUS
By JOYCE HOR-CHUNG LAU
New York Times
-birch.html
May 10 2010
HONG KONG
The opening last month of "Hope & Glory," a large multimedia
exhibition, was certainly interactive.
Among the 2,000 guests were children skating on "Zorch," a mirrored
skateboard ramp. That was planned.
What wasn’t expected were people climbing up to touch the human-sized
figurines — some furry, some made of balloons — in "Twilight Shadows
of the Bright Face." Or leaving beer cans, glasses and bottles
scattered on art pieces in the show, which cost about 15 million
Hong Kong dollars, or about $2 million, to put on. "Maybe Hong Kong
people just don’t see art like this very often," said Simon Birch,
the artist. "They just thought it was a big party with some huge
decorations."
At 20,000 square feet, or about 2,000 square meters, "Hope & Glory
— A Conceptual Circus" is one of the biggest multimedia shows to
open in a city whose art scene is dominated by small galleries and
government-run museums.
It incorporates Mr. Birch’s contemporary art creations with works
from about 20 architects, photographers, designers, filmmakers and
other artists. The curator is Valerie C. Doran.
The show is also the first large-scale undertaking by Mr. Birch, a
well-known artist in Hong Kong, since he recovered from an aggressive
cancer in 2008. It can be seen at the ArtisTree exhibition space
through May 30 and is free.
Most of the exhibition space for "Hope & Glory" is cavernous and dark,
leaving its viewers to almost stumble around its 20 segments. But
walking through the exhibit also feels like revisiting the small-town
fairs you went to as a child — it’s somehow entertaining, nostalgic
and spooky at the same time.
In the center is a piece called "Heavy Is The Head That Wears The
Crown," which is a "symbol of empires and their declines," Mr. Birch
said. Giant letters spell out "Tigranes," the name of a king from
the ancient kingdom of Armenia, which once stretched from the Caspian
Sea to the Mediterranean.
The letters appear to be half sunken into the floor, in a curly font
favored by circuses of old. They look lost and abandoned, lit up with
dinky light bulbs.
Armenia "was once the biggest empire outside of the Roman Empire,"
said Mr. Birch, who is of Armenian descent. "And two thousand years
later, it doesn’t even reach the coast."
Around such signs of faded glory are also glints of hope.
Hanging from the ceiling is a 13-foot, or 4-meter, silver sphere.
"It’s made of 1,000 trophies engraved with the names of every piece
of art I’ve ever produced, and the name of everyone I’ve ever loved —
basically, everything that has value in my life," he said. "The irony
is that it’s a big, cheap ball of crappy Chinese steel. The message
is about love. The physical object, or value, is nothing."
There are also shadowy monuments like "Galactus," a star, and
"Cyclops," a sniper tower. The carnival theme is repeated in videos
of circus freaks floating in space or a trapeze artist in slow motion.
Inside a tentlike space is a 3-D film of a fairy-tale white horse.
Mr. Birch, 40, who funded "Hope & Glory" partly with his own money —
and with the help of a corporate sponsor, friends, a collector and
a last-minute government grant — did not come through the usual
art-school ranks.
When he moved from his native England to Hong Kong in 1997, he worked
as a construction worker and, on weekends, as a D.J. "I got paid
danger money for hanging off the Tsing Ma Bridge by a rope with a
drill in my hand," he said. "I’ve been painting my whole life, but
I thought it was a hobby."
He had his first solo show at the Hong Kong Arts Centre in 1999,
followed by another at the Hong Kong Fringe Club.
"I’d always done figurative work with palette knives and big brush
strokes," he said.
His dramatic portraits, often of sharp-featured Asian women in moody
blues and silvers, became popular at hotels, bars and private clubs,
earning him a following among collectors.
He became a full-time artist around 2004, when he began working with
the 10 Chancery Lane Gallery, which has represented him since.
He moved into doing more installations and collaborative works, like
"The Amazing Adventures of the Monkey King" (2005), in which he ripped
up part of Lane Crawford, a high-end department store. His large-scale
work, "Azanti High Lighting" (2007), was held at a 10,000-square-foot
space at the Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts in Singapore.
He wanted to recreate it in Hong Kong, but couldn’t find the room at
the time, he said.
Then, in 2008, Mr. Birch was diagnosed with NK/T-cell lymphoma, a rare
and aggressive type of cancer, and told he had six months to live. He
slowed down production. He underwent chemo and radiation therapy
and was put on a highly restricted diet, "mostly just fruits and
vegetables." Managing his cancer, he said, "was like a full-time job."
There’s a reference to his illness in the installation called "Crawling
Through the Wreckage." The artist said it had the feel of "a retro
video game." Two films play continuously inside: one a parody of
"American Idol," the other of friends mourning at a funeral.
"If you’re an artist, you have to explore the uncomfortable,"
Mr. Birch said.
Today, Mr. Birch is back working at full steam in paint-plastered
jeans. Later this year he will be part of a group exhibition in London
organized by James Lavelle at Haunch of Venison, as well as a show
at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Tokyo.
And, he is already busy planning "Hope & Glory, Part II."
"It’s going to be a zillion times more insane," he said.