ArtReview Asia

There's a funny, lukewarm stillness to this show, like looking at your feet in a fast-cooling bath. It's hushed without feeling sacralised, and tepid in an earnest kind of way: a small, shy smile of a show that beguiles even as it frustrates . But when you approach the kinetic sculpture Chanting if I live, Forgetting if I die ( 2017), a centipede of stained marble and weathered wood, something shifts. Sensing your presence , the tergitelike marble slabs begin to wave at random: slowly, and with some drag , like an underwater anemone. The sculpture begins to breathe. And ail of the surrounding works seem to sigh in relieved accord, as if they hadn't realised they had been holding their breaths.