Paul Chan calls the figures of his latest body of work “breathers,” and as the name suggests, they possess an uncanny organic quality that makes them hard to write off as harmless sculptures. Most of this difficulty is due to the alarming ways in which they move: Stretched over electric fans like those inflatable dancers familiar from roadside advertising, each piece consists of a nylon shell that flails and billows like a captive ghost, its range of movement determined by its internal structure. Conceived by Chan as a way to produce animation without resorting to the usual methods, the breathers represent a striking co-option of a contemporary pop-cultural object.
Inspired by Aristotle’s De Anima (On the Soul), Chan’s exhibition is pitched as an exploration of the relationship between movement, life and consciousness. Referencing philosophy and art history, he’s interspersed his breathers with cryptic drawings of overwritten letters and numbers, suggesting glitchy computer code. Hinting at our always-incomplete understanding of the connection between mind and body, Chan once again demonstrates his rare ability to infuse familiar images, forms and situations with a sense of mystery expressed in works both visceral and bold.