Skip to main content

Hiram To

Drained (compulsive surveillance)

The following is a brief preview - the full content of this page is available to premium users only.
Click here to subscribe...

There is no such thing as neutral surface. No matter how "decontextualized" an image may be, or however bland its form, or, the converse, no matter how much the visual data is impac­ted so that a cross-cancellation of codes produces a blank emptiness, nonetheless, the viewing mind will automatically recontextualize visual information which is presented to it. 

Post-modernism of the early eighties asserted the possibility, indeed, the inevitability, of neutrality - a continuation of the aesthetic of in­difference of the sixties. However, recently there is a re-acknowledgement that all informa­tion has its locations, that "decoding" is simply not feasible. Different explorations are being undertaken into the construction of the visual narrative of an image. 

From the evidence of his latest installation, Hiram To appears to be engaged in such an analysis. The surface manner is minimalist. Minimalism has lately undergone a resuscita­tion on the international scene, but, as a term, it needs careful definition since its use over the years has grown too wide and includes (ap­parently) colour-field. It is clearer to speak of "reduction" as very specifically directed. A given aggregate of various forms and visual modes of expression is pulled apart and certain instances isolated and refined. In the present case, coloured photographs froze moments from an installation which Hiram had made recently at the Hong Kong Fringe. A video of the installation formed part of a television inter­view with the artist. 

This initiated the spinning of a very fine web of new associations which were stated in such a reduced manner that the interstices of the open web became as important as the imagery itself - spaces for the play of time.

The installation could not, properly

Hiram To, Drained (Compulsive Surveillance), 1987. Photograph: K. K. Chan