Terence Koh
"Terence Koh" by Sascha Hastings, Fall 2008, pp. 134-5
“Is this man the next Warhol?” screamed the headline on the cover of the German art magazine Monopol. It was accompanied by a photograph of the New York–based Chinese- Canadian artist Terence Koh. Dressed all in white, wearing a white wig and with a pair of white-rimmed sunglasses dominating his expressionless white-painted face, he looked, indeed, not unlike a young, taxidermied, Asian version of the greatest master of self-staging of the 20th century.
Koh’s rise to art-world pre-eminence has been similarly meteoric. After studying architecture at the University of Waterloo, Koh did a stint with Zaha Hadid in London and attended Emily Carr in Vancouver before moving to New York, where he became involved in its underground gay arts scene. This period saw the emergence of his online alter ego, asianpunkboy, and after a series of controversial performances and exhibitions (which included packaging and selling his semen-stained underwear), he earned himself major shows at the Whitney Museum of American Art, Wiener Secession, Kunsthalle Zürich and now Schirn Kunsthalle in Frankfurt.
Stepping into his Frankfurt exhibition, “Captain Buddha,” is literally dazzling. In an act of ironic obeisance, you are forced to bow your head as you pass through a low doorway and enter into a single long, blindingly white room. The walls are white, the floor is white, the ceiling is white and white light bathes the space, which is scattered with a series of white sculptures. “Captain Buddha” is the result of Koh’s attempt to bring together the worlds of Buddhism and Herman Melville’s novel Moby Dick, with their shared narrative of endless, ultimately irresolvable quest. To this end, the artist undertook a round-the-world trip, gathering objects and inspiration with which to create his sculptures. These include an African shaman’s figurine with nails pounded into it, which dangles upside down from a bicycle wheel (take that, Marcel Duchamp!), a broken umbrella frame with its handle rammed into the arse of a stuffed rabbit (up yours, Joseph Beuys!) and, in another ironic reference to Beuys, a cupcake covered in bees, a cast of Koh’s middle finger sticking up from its centre with a wick in the place of his fingernail. On the back wall is a reversed swastika made of toy soldiers, a guaranteed attention-getter in a country where it is illegal to display the ancient Hindu and Buddhist symbol (now forever contaminated by the Nazis). In the centre of it all is a naked self-portrait of Koh seated Buddha-like atop a coffin, a harpoon lying before him. But this Buddha has no hands (and therefore no power or message), and the back of his head bears a puncture hole the size of a quarter. Like everything else in the room, this sculpture is covered in white paint, which Koh sloshed over it in a “secret” performance that initiated the exhibition, and which he videotaped for visitors to see on a small screen both outside the main gallery and on Schirn Kunsthalle’s website. Another video shows the artist returning from his epic trip, riding through the streets of New York in a limo, drinking champagne and wearing designer sunglasses and a golden hat. In the words of Koh himself, “I’m like the captain in Moby Dick. I’m trying to find the white whale in the white objects, but in the end I find nothing.”
The question is whether nothing is enough. Koh is smart, aware of art history, talented and savvy regarding the art of self-presentation. Some of his objects have a strange irritating, perplexing quality that could almost be called beautiful (and that is enhanced by the flecks of gold showing through the white paint that covers each sculpture). He brilliantly captures the pseudo-serious spirituality and the glittering, party-on excess of today, and will undoubtedly continue to do well in an age obsessed with shock, money, image and easy-to-get references. Paying homage to or flipping the bird at famous artists inevitably invites favourable comparison to them, but doesn’t automatically catapult you into their league. Whether Terence Koh is a great artist or simply a genius at self-promotion will emerge over time. Perhaps, in our media age, they are one and the same.
Subscribe to Canadian Art today and save 30% off the newstand price.
