Art

How a century of portraiture and industrial stone challenges the digital void at Art Basel Hong Kong

The Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centre becomes a site of secular resurrection as Pace Gallery bridges the gap between early Modernist ghosts and the biological machines of the contemporary era. Featuring works by Anicka Yi and Amedeo Modigliani, the presentation interrogates the stability of the human image in a world of volatile, shifting assets.
Lisbeth Thalberg

A pale, elongated neck rises from a dark collar, the eyes of the sitter fixed in a perpetual, sightless gaze that seems to pull the atmosphere of the room into a tight, melancholic vacuum. The surface of the canvas carries the crackle of a century, a physical record of oil and time that anchors the viewer to a specific, unrepeatable moment in 1917.

Nearby, a different kind of haunting takes shape in the spectral translucency of Mao Yan’s recent figurations. In Xiao Tang with a Mirror, the subject appears to be physically evaporating, a shimmering void that resists the hyper-saturated clarity of the modern digital age.

The juxtaposition of these two eras suggests a profound anxiety regarding the erosion of the physical self. While Modigliani used the distortion of the body to reach a deeper psychological truth, the contemporary artist must now fight to keep the body from disappearing entirely into a cloud of data and code.

This tension is most visible in the work of Anicka Yi, whose conceptual practice has long explored the messy, organic intersections of technology and ecology. Her new, never-before-exhibited painting acts as a bio-machine, a textured surface where the boundaries between the synthetic and the natural are no longer distinguishable.

The material reality of these objects serves as a necessary friction against the instantaneousness of the present. Wang Guangle’s process-based works, built up layer-by-layer over the course of months, demand a slower form of engagement, forcing the eye to trace the physical accumulation of time.

In Lee Ufan’s Relatum play of primitive, the cold weight of steel meets the unyielding presence of stone. The installation creates a sensory gravity, reminding the observer that despite our digital extensions, we remain tethered to the primordial materials of the earth.

This reliance on “Process-Based Stratification” echoes the Minimalists of the 1960s, yet the motivation has shifted. Where the previous century reacted against the industrial, the current era reacts against the virtual, seeking comfort in the “ghosts” of historical masters like Alexander Calder and Agnes Martin.

The presence of Calder’s Le Petit croissant, a hanging mobile from 1963, provides a kinetic counterpoint to the static weight of the surrounding paintings. Its delicate balance and mechanical simplicity offer a reprieve from the complex, invisible algorithms that now govern global culture.

By placing marquee works by 20th-century titans alongside the woven textiles of Mika Tajima’s Negative Entropy series, the curation asserts that institutional permanence is the only remaining stable currency. The art is presented not just as a commodity, but as a cultural anchor.

The dialogue between these works ultimately asks whether a century-old masterpiece can still teach the modern viewer how to remain human. It is a question answered through the tactile reality of marble, the scent of oil paint, and the enduring shadow of the artist’s hand.

As the lines between biology and technology continue to blur, the gallery space functions as a laboratory for the soul. It is here that the spectral and the industrial collide, offering a vision of a future that is still, at its core, haunted by its own history.

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