Bang Geul Han’s exhibit here, “Land of Tenderness”, explores how language can be both embodied and obscured – an abstract tool of power that, nonetheless, struggles to encompass the full weight and scope of personal experience. His subject matter is emotionally charged: US immigration policy, anti-abortion laws and sexual violence. In contrast, the texts she uses as art material are often flat or opaque, taken from class-action cases, Supreme Court justice opinions, and state statutes, among other sources.
Han’s show includes two VR works that remix cruel immigration stories through large language model AI software. The easiest to grasp (and the most conceptually successful) is Ø (island), 2022, which forces viewers wearing headphones to “chase” the letters, flying like a flock of birds, through dark space. As the forms approach animated birdcages, they coalesce for a few brief seconds into testimonies of migrant children about being separated from their parents at the US border with Mexico.
Works that testify to Han’s physical labor, however, have greater emotive force. Take Apology Wristbands (Harvey)2022, a set of over a hundred macrame friendship bracelets that spell out the apology of disgraced film producer Harvey Weinstein released by the New York Times on October 5, 2017. His banal words, spliced into short, woven sentences surrounded by hearts and stars, reveal his emotional retardation and lack of genuine contrition. At the same time, Han’s handmade accessories are reminiscent of teenage cliques and shared “gossip” – sometimes meaningless drama, other times important warnings.
For the “Warp and Weft” series, 2021–, Han weaves textiles from narrow strips of paper printed with the full texts of legal documents that detail restrictions on reproductive and migrant rights. By weaving these documents together, Han illustrates the intersections of decisions that make certain populations (women of color, undocumented immigrants) exceptionally vulnerable to abuse of power. Up close, Han’s neat, geometrically patterned artwork dissolves into a quagmire of legalese: in one, a Department of Homeland Security logo is partially visible; elsewhere we see the phrase “a hospital that provides childbirth services.” . . at any time” – ominous in the context of our new, Handmaid’s Tale reality limiting access to abortion. Along with the weaves, Han shows photographs of herself, wearing the textiles while sleeping, reading, and sitting on the toilet. Covering her face and naked body, the artist straddles the line between intimacy and anonymity.
