Kudos acknowledges and pays respect to the Gadigal and Bidjigal people of the Eora nation. They are the traditional custodians of the land Kudos operates on. We create, design, share, and exchange our work and knowledge on this important meeting place. We pay our respects to elders past and present and extend that respect to any First Nations people who engage with Kudos. This is and always will be Aboriginal land.
Objects in Orbit: Curatorial Essay
Carey ChengMore than a static exhibition, Objects in Orbit unfolds through four durational performances, featuring two groups of artists and two performers across two Activations, Bamboo à la Carte, and a Finale. Each artist is selected for their adaptability and material sensibility, crafting works that engage with temporality. The performative aspect extends to Bamboo à la Carte which explores bamboo’s resilience through structured improvisation—an approach mirroring the adaptability required in the assemblage.
The constraints imposed on the exhibition space mirror the unpredictability of site-specific work, demanding innovative problem-solving. Without the ability to mount works traditionally, artists must negotiate new spatial relationships. James Little’s hand-welded metal frame, initially intended for a stable display, instead finds itself repositioned within a constantly shifting composition. Evan Han Ye’s video projections struggle against bright sunlight filtering through the gallery’s ceiling, while Molly Holland’s fabric-based work—designed to stretch across walls—must find new means of suspension.
Rather than obstacles, these limitations act as catalysts for creative problem-solving. In response, the curator introduces wooden panels at varying levels, found wood bricks, and two ceiling-mounted wooden hanging systems, offering structural support while maintaining flexibility. These interventions allow artists to negotiate between constraint and possibility, shaping an evolving installation.
The installation develops through distinct methodologies. In the first round, artists respond to previous contributions in succession, fostering an organic, adaptive dialogue. The second round builds on this foundation, allowing artists to refine, challenge, or expand upon past interactions, generating an evolving tension within the space.
Blurring the lines between installation and live action, Objects in Orbit turns participating artists into performers. Rather than presenting finalized works, they reveal their creative process in real time through durational activations. Meanwhile, Bamboo à la Carte takes a structured improvisational approach, marking the first collaboration between Japanese shō musician Henry Liang and time-based installation artist Sarah Ong, who engage with the same material through distinct visual and sonic expressions.
Activation #1
In the first activation, Angie Geng, Adrian Mok, Evan Han Ye and James Little navigate an unpredictable process of assembly and deconstruction. Little’s frame, originally placed between two wooden panels, is repositioned into controlled chaos. The collective disrupts the temporary wooden structure, toppling a tall, thin plinth while preserving Geng’s standing mirror. The mirror reflects her clock—a functional sculpture incorporating a photograph of her grandfather as its clock hand. Simultaneously, Little places an ephemeral dollar-store flower beside the standing mirror, amplifying its absurdity by pairing a meticulously 3D-printed plastic pot, heightening the contrast between organic life and synthetic replicas.Ye plays his guitar while Mok manipulates his synthesizer, responding in real-time to shifting projections with disruptive audiovisual distortions. Mok’s red-white-blue plastic bags, adorned with handwritten Cantonese text and filled with discarded cupboards, become cultural signifiers of reimagination. Expanding on this, he experiments with a plastic bread stack, shifting it within the projector’s light to create a shadowed, hexagonal tunnel effect.
As the activation unfolds, projections spill onto the fallen plinth and one of Mok’s plastic bags, layering video noise textures that mimic the flickering distortion of an old CRT TV. Audience participation emerges spontaneously: Little invites a visitor to hold his metal frame, transforming her into a "human plinth," while another guest interacts with Han Ye’s synthesizer, momentarily shaping the audiovisual composition.
The thirty minutes of live activation profoundly provided a new experience to the audiences and artists. Some found it meditative and healing, others liken it to a children-built cubby house, unfolding in a trance-like state. Initially hesitant to perform their artistic process, the artists soon embrace the ephemeral nature of the activation, improvising with collapse and chance while engaging audiences in their assemblage. The activation concludes with a collective exchange of observations, surprises, and ambitious ideas for the second round. These initial gestures lay the groundwork for what is to come, setting up a tension between intent and improvisation that will be explored further.
Activation #2: The Second Week Transformation
With the second activation, the installation undergoes a transformation, informed by the interventions of second-round artists—Keroshin Govender, Molly Holland, Jordan Dempsey, and Felix Jackson. Govender and Holland’s previous works, Sangam (2024) and Hold on Me (2024), hint at an expectation of expansive spatial engagement, whether by extending into the ceiling or dynamically reshaping the environment. Meanwhile, Dempsey jokingly expressed an ambition to push the assemblage created by the first-round artists far into the corner—or even set fire to it—while Jackson remains enigmatic, though their past performative works hint at an element of embodiment.The one-hour activation begins with Dempsey’s small yet deliberate movements, placing coins and keys at the entrance, while Govender and Holland reposition elements of the assemblage to create new spatial dynamics. At the centre, Jackson remains seated, stacking bottles and packing boxes in contemplative stillness, a stark contrast to the more kinetic gestures occurring around him.
As Govender suspends his indigo-dyed cloth, Holland weaves it into Mok’s earlier red plastic bag assemblage, layering textures and suspending objects mid-air. Demonstrating her clay-molding process, she imprints her hand as a motif, reinforcing the suspension of her fiber work filled with clay. Draping Govender’s cloth across the assemblage, they enhance the installation’s versatility, stretching Holland’s fiber pieces between points and integrating glazed ceramics as compositional anchors. Meanwhile, Jackson manipulates the projection, positioning his bottles to cast virtual architectural towers from the blocked light.
Unnoticed by most, Dempsey has already formed multiple site-specific installations throughout the space—tucking anonymous found objects into corners, beneath wooden platforms, and in unexpected places. These objects range from photographs of strangers and nude playing cards to text-based notes, feathers, and tiny stones.
The tension between structure and collapse becomes tangible when Jackson’s bottle stack suddenly crashes. Two audience members, presumably Jackson’s friends, react with concern, while others laugh, recognizing the fall as an expected part of the process. The collapse is triggered by Govender’s attempt to suspend cloth from another section of the ceiling, unintentionally disrupting the projection and momentarily erasing its presence. The collective works swiftly to reconfigure the balance—restoring Jackson’s installation while improvising new spatial arrangements.
In a quiet yet humorous gesture, Jackson begins affixing handwritten notes to the assemblage, scribbling thoughts on memo pads. One note, stuck to Geng’s clock, reads, “I’m not really sure what’s going on… I never am.” Another, tucked into Geng’s standing mirror, states, “Pain is temporary; Swag is forever.” These small textual interventions add a layer of self-aware commentary, subtly bridging the audience’s experience with the artists’ shifting intentions.
As time progresses and the collective continues assembling, the audience becomes immersed in the time-based artistic process. Towards the end of activation, Jackson begins crushing his written notes into small stones and tossing them onto the wooden panels. Dempsey, asking for a cup of water, leaves the remaining cup within the composition, to which Jackson adds a note reading, “I am so sweaty.” An audience member laughs at Dempsey’s casual contribution to the assemblage.
In the final 30 seconds, Dempsey empties his toolbox onto the floor, marking an abrupt yet fitting conclusion—leaving behind a scattered trace of process and play. After the performance, some reflect on how quickly the hour passed, amused by the live, instantaneous transformation, while others express eagerness to witness future iterations with new artists in the coming weeks.