Cyberspace has the power to collapse. Depth of meanings simplifies into a single layer; flux of ideas recess to one-dimensional thoughts; the push and pulls of human romance degrade into a simple swipe of a finger.

When options shrink and dimensionalities collapse, sheer representation becomes all-encompassing. Regardless of its stained reputation in art history, representation carries a unique power in the domain of capital criticism because it is both representational and representative of our times. Hyeejin Bae’s practice, in the guise of being easy-to-the-eye, reveals and represents the natures of the collapsing cyberspace, and at the same time, proves that “eye candies” can sometimes be difficult to stomach.

The internet triggers synesthesia. When information collapses in cyberspace, so do senses. Mukbang, for example, feeds all senses with visual input in the simple form of a Youtube video. However, in a time when we are habitually synthetized, our sensory alertness becomes murky. Our eyes start to smell, hear, taste, and make judgements. Hyeejin Bae sharply comments on the contemporary phenomenon of eye-judgment and visual-thinking. Made with food items, her sculptures and installations never feel only edible – but also generally consumable, whether it’s by our eyes, phones, or collapsed sensory system as a whole. Her updated chocolate torso pieces in the exhibition adds an element of lust to the equation: When an emotional craving such as sexual desire lands in the physical domain, which sensory output do we prioritize?

Aside from sensories, cyberspace also collapses the process of dialectics, oftentimes forcing us into selecting between either the thesis or the antithesis, totally removing the option of an eventual synthesis. The “Yes or No” video is an elaborative warning to this issue. Mimicking the swipes of a finger, images and options move to the left and right, gradually speeding up to a point that it almost becomes mechanical. Hyeejin Bae’s video elaborates that forceful speed-up of perception is arguably the most practiced method of preventing full dialectics. Once again, Bae’s method in presenting the problem seems to be a sheer representation on the first look, but is extremely accurate and descriptive of what we face on a daily basis. The power of under-explanation in the digital era is on full display.

The exhibition design also calls upon “exhibitionist,” a concept that fascinates Bae. The artist connects the concepts of “exhibition” and “exhibitionist” by creating a complex space which features contradictory realities when inspecting from without (casually seduce) and within (forcefully reveal). From the outside looking in, passers-by immediately see a storefront-like layout that can be interpreted as an ad of sorts displaying what seductions lie behind. On the other side of the windows however, things are not as “perfect” as advertised. Here, the exhibitionist (artist) exposes us to her most greasy sweetness and biting bitterness. The chocolate sculptures, in the forms of torsos modeled after Bae’s dates found by swiping, are broken and scattered. One can still piece together these cracked chocolates with tremendous details into their original deliciousness – almost a reverse objectification of men. Surrounding the torsos are two piled up chocolate text sculptures “Calling me: Cutie pie” and “Calling me: Little puppy” – nicknames that Hyeejin Bae received from her dates. Traditionally nicknames for babies, these terms render the artist consumable and convey the inequality in power. The structures of the piles were purposefully unstable, hinting at the artist’s despise of conventional dynamics under consumerism and sexual stereotypes, inviting the underpowered to fight back and bite back.

Ironically, Hyeejin Bae’s sculptures are strictly not participatory: viewers are prohibited to lay their hands on them. Temptations to smudge, crack, poke, or even lick need to be constantly quarantined in front of every single body of work. This careful mechanism is reminiscent of a smartphone screen which simultaneously invites and rejects. When seduction is never penetrable, the best it can do is to be fully reflective – that is when we accidentally turn the screen off, and our sorry and pathetic faces turn up in front of our own eyes, eerily dimmed.

Text by Phil Cai