Polyphony of Ashes and Words: Whispers of Existence

Abstract

This essay explores the interplay between modular and ephemeral materials, cultural identity, and human connection in contemporary art. By integrating poetry, installations, and theoretical reflection, I investigate the tension between standardization and individuality in modern society. Inspired by W.E.B. Du Bois’ concept of “double consciousness,” Heidegger’s notion of “dwelling,” and Blanchot’s idea of the void as a creative potential, my work redefines relationships between materiality and cultural belonging. Utilizing standardized materials like LEGO bricks and Pringles cans alongside ephemeral media such as coal and ash, I critique the homogeneity of consumer-driven urban life while fostering deeper interpersonal connections.

The essay is divided into three sections. The first explores modularity and symbolism in critiquing standardization, the second uses posthumanist theories to reflect on anthropocentrism in my ant installation, and the third analyzes ephemeral materials to evoke memory and transience. Through this reflection, I propose that contemporary art can bridge isolation and collective experience, offering new ways to interpret identity and connection.

Introduction: A Multi-Perspective Exploration of “Home”

This essay investigates how modular and ephemeral materials—such as coal, ash, LEGO bricks, and Pringles cans—serve as tools to critique standardization, explore cultural identity, and redefine the meaning of belonging in a fragmented, globalized world. By combining playful installations with poetic reflections, I reinterpret the mundane to critique societal structures that shape individual and collective experiences. In this context, I explore the concept of “home” not only as a physical space but also as an emotional and philosophical construct.

Growing up in China, heavily influenced by American pop culture, and now living in Europe, I navigate multiple cultural perspectives in my practice. W.E.B. Du Bois’ concept of “double consciousness” provides a foundation for understanding the dual awareness of identity in my work. Du Bois (1903) described this phenomenon as the simultaneous perception of one’s cultural self and the dominant culture’s lens. For me, this manifests in my experience as a Chinese international student navigating disparate cultural frameworks. My artistic choices reflect this duality: standardized materials like LEGO bricks and Pringles cans critique global consumerism, while coal and ash connect to personal memory and Chinese heritage.

In addition, I draw on Heidegger’s and Blanchot’s philosophies to further ground my exploration of home and materiality. Heidegger (1971) described dwelling as

“To dwell means to remain at peace within the free, the preserve, the free sphere that safeguards each thing in its nature”

(Poetry, Language, Thought, Heidegger, 1971, p. 148)

For Heidegger, dwelling is not merely habitation but an act of engaging with the world to create meaningful relationships between self, space, and others. This notion inspires my reconstruction of urban landscapes using standardized materials, which symbolize the tensions between individuality and collective conformity in modern society.

Blanchot’s reflection on “nothingness” informs my use of ephemeral materials such as coal and ash. Blanchot (1981) argued that “nothingness is the condition of possibility for creation” (p. 34). Through these transient materials, I explore the interplay between destruction and renewal, permanence and impermanence, grounding my artistic practice in the fragility of memory and the transformative potential of absence.

This essay is structured into three sections. The first section examines the symbolism of modular materials, focusing on their capacity to critique standardization and foster connection. The second explores reflects on the use of ephemeral materials and their ability to evoke memory, transience, and material connections, inspired by both personal reflection and philosophical theories. The third section the metaphor of ants in my installation work, incorporating posthumanist theories to challenge anthropocentrism and highlight collective existence.

Modularity and the Symbolism of Urban Materials

 Together, these reflections weave personal narrative, theoretical frameworks, and artistic practice into a multi-dimensional exploration of belonging, identity, and human connection.

My work draws inspiration from the Archigram movement, known for its visionary approach to urban futures and modular design concepts (Archigram, 1972). Archigram’s playful and optimistic spirit resonates with my aesthetic, particularly its focus on mobility and reimagined human connections. In my installation work, I builds cityscapes from LEGO bricks and stacks Pringles cans to evoke urban skylines, critiquing the uniformity of industrialized life.

The Archigram movement, known for its visionary approach to future cities and modular designs, has been a significant influence on my work. This imaginative vision of the future reminds me of the construction methods used with LEGO bricks—standardized modules assembled to create imaginative architectural landscapes. By stacking Pringles cans alongside LEGO structures, I attempt to convey both the humor and the tension inherent in modern urban life—posing the satirical question, “Isn’t it beautiful?” about whether the highly standardized and efficiency-driven society we pursue truly brings us beauty. This theme is further explored through my accompanying poem, offering a hopeful yet humorous exploration of connections in the cold, lonely modern world.

The modularity of LEGO bricks and the standardized shape of Pringles chips provide a visual metaphor for the homogenization of modern societies. These materials, optimized for mass production and transport, reflect the standardization of daily life, breaking down class distinctions while simultaneously emphasizing the monotony of consumer culture (Latour, 1993).

On Blanchot’s “Void” and the Reality of Material Connections

Maurice Blanchot’s philosophy emphasizes the “void” as a generative space for creativity (Blanchot, 1981, p. 31). However, my artistic approach diverges significantly from this perspective. Rather than anchoring my work in the abstraction of the void, I focus on the tangible and concrete connections between materials and human experiences. My exploration centers on the undeniable physicality and shared realities of standardized objects such as LEGO bricks, Pringles cans, coal, and cigar ash. These materials are not merely industrial artifacts but vessels of collective experience, encapsulating the intersections of individual lives within a shared global narrative.

Take Pringles chips as an example: their uniformity and functional design might initially suggest the monotony of industrial mass production, but they also serve as symbols of interconnectedness. Despite our disparate cultural and geographical contexts, these standardized items act as tangible evidence of the shared patterns in human consumption and experience. The realness of their existence transcends abstraction, offering an immediate, tactile connection that binds us together.

By emphasizing the material’s reality, I aim to challenge Blanchot’s philosophical focus on absence and instead celebrate the presence of these objects in our shared cultural and social fabric. While Blanchot sees creativity emerging from voids and absences, my work seeks to explore how the palpable and the present—items that we often overlook due to their mundanity—can serve as potent symbols of connection and meaning. This approach reframes the conversation around creativity, positioning materiality as a vital counterpoint to abstraction.

While Blanchot’s writings emphasize the solitude of creativity, my installation work challenges this by introducing humor and irony. By stacking Pringles cans into playful urban skylines, I transform isolation into a collective invitation, suggesting that within the atomized structures of modernity, there remains a latent potential for human connection. I wrote a poem:

This poem not only satirizes modern urban life but also captures my lived experience as an artist navigating the intersections of identity, culture, and materiality. My life in London has further deepened my understanding of the symbolic potential of everyday materials.

Bachelard (1994) observed that “memories are motionless, and the more securely they are fixed in space, the sounder they are” (p. 9). In my poetry, the repeated question “Isn’t it beautiful?” invites a reexamination of the mundane objects that populate our daily lives. By layering this repetition with metaphors of isolation and connection, I seek to evoke a sense of intimacy amidst the homogeneity of modern urban life.

As Bachelard also writes,

“the house shelters daydreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace”

(1994, p. 6)

My poetic and artistic practice reflects this idea, transforming standardized objects like LEGO bricks and Pringles cans into symbolic representations of home and belonging. By exploring how “dwelling-places in our lives co-penetrate and retain the treasures of former days” (Bachelard, 1994, p. 5), I aim to highlight the layered emotional and cultural memories embedded in everyday spaces and objects.

Benjamin (1940) observes that history is often reconstructed by those in power, a notion reflected in my poem’s portrayal of shared consumer experiences. The repetitive imagery—stacking frozen foods or drinking the same water—invites viewers to question the quiet currents shaping modern existence.

While these standardized materials critique consumerism and industrial uniformity on the surface, they also serve as metaphors for my complex emotions around identity and belonging.

Humor, Irony, and Everyday Life

Humor and irony are integral to mypractice, allowing me to critique societal norms while remaining accessible. My playful use of materials—stacking Pringles cans to build skyscrapers or reimagining keys as symbols of cultural memory—invites viewers to reflect on their relationships with everyday objects.

Keys

I haven’t used physical keys like these for years,

First settling in London—my first “home.”

This long-lost yet familiar feeling lingers,

A blend of freshness and culture shock.

Every time I walk, they’re something I check—

A ritual of worry I can’t quite neglect.

But also a drawback, a thing I resist,

Their clinking sound, a noise I’d dismiss.

Yet, what if I imbue them with meaning, with grace?

The broken plastic sign, the stamped address,

Could it stand for a crest of noble descent?

Could this shape, so mundane, yet timeless,

Be tied to something far more immense?

Would their rattling in my pocket still annoy?

Or could I imagine jade pendants colliding—

A sound too exquisite, too rare to destroy,

A luxury untouched, even by the grandest portrayals on screen?

This reflective humor underscores the ways in which cultural and emotional attachments shape our perceptions of mundane.

Isn’t It Beautiful?

In my project Isn’t It Beautiful?, I constructs densely packed urban skylines using LEGO bricks and Pringles cans. These modular structures evoke the prosperity and tension of modern cities while critiquing the claustrophobia of urbanization. Pringles chips spell out the title, creating an absurd yet impactful visual element that blurs the line between humor and critique.

Although these modular installations carry an element of humor, they also highlight the less visible side of urban modernity: the pervasive isolation and monotony that often characterize life in standardized environments.

Baudrillard (1981) critiques the reduction of objects to mere symbols within consumer culture, a phenomenon mirrored in my choice of modular materials like LEGO and Pringles cans. These standardized forms, optimized for mass production, embody the homogenization of global societies, blurring individuality while celebrating efficiency.

Bachelard (1994) argues that intimate spaces can evoke a profound sense of immensity, a paradox mirrored in my use of LEGO structures and small-scale installations. These modular forms create a playful yet critical reflection on the tension between individual autonomy and collective conformity.

The work prompts viewers to reconsider whether the highly standardized, efficiency-driven society we pursue truly brings us beauty. While the urban imagery reflects isolation and monotony, the accompanying poem and playful construction suggest a hopeful invitation to rediscover warmth and connection within this uniformity.

Creative Process

1. Material Selection: LEGO bricks and Pringles cans, chosen for their modularity and industrial associations, serve as the primary materials.

2. Building and Stacking: The LEGO bricks form city skylines, while Pringles cans are stacked vertically to mimic skyscrapers. The chips are arranged to spell out the title.

3. Visual Impact: The minimalist aesthetic expresses the pressures of modern life, while the humor in the design invites viewers to question what constitutes true beauty.

In creating my towering cityscapes, I emphasize the psychological effects of height and density on individuals. The imposing structures symbolize the overwhelming nature of urban living—how, despite our desire for connection, we are often dwarfed by the scale and machinery of the cities we inhabit. Mehretu’s layering becomes a metaphor for the layers of meaning and experiences embedded in city life. The architectural and organic lines speak to the interaction between people and their built environments. I am interested in exploring how, within this layering, there is both confusion and complexity, but also moments of connection that punctuate the isolation of city life.

Layering Inspirations: Julie Mehretu and Architectural Forms

Julie Mehretu’s use of layered architectural plans and abstract gestures has profoundly influenced my artistic approach (Mehretu, 2007). Mehretu’s works dig into the hidden histories and tensions of urban landscapes, creating multi-dimensional narratives. Similarly, I employs layering techniques to reveal the stories embedded within modular and industrial forms.

In my installations, the stacking of LEGO bricks and Pringles cans mimics the repetitive nature of modern urban life. These dense, towering structures reflect the tension between cold uniformity and the latent potential for human connection, echoing Mehretu’s exploration of cities as spaces of both vitality and alienation.

Through the towering modular structures of LEGO bricks and Pringles cans, I aim to immerse viewers in a hyper-standardized, yet fragmented urban environment. This experience echoes Heidegger’s idea of ‘thrownness’—inviting the audience to reflect on their own placement within the repetitive routines of consumer society and consider how these structures shape their sense of identity.

Memory and Transience: Working with Ash and Coal in Materials: Coal and Ash

Heidegger (1927) argues that temporality underpins existence, a concept embodied in ash as both a fleeting material and a testament to destruction. Simultaneously, Baudrillard (1981) critiques the ephemerality of consumer goods, a tension reflected in my use of ash to bridge impermanence and endurance.

The use of coal and cigar ash as artistic media connects deeply with my personal narrative and my hometown, which is rich in coal resources. The raw, rough texture of coal symbolizes my longing for vitality and freedom—a desire rooted in the environment I grew up in. Drawing inspiration from the spirit of the ancient Chinese literati, I use these materials to express a sense of independence and spiritual transcendence. These pieces are intentionally created in short spans of time, reflecting my fascination with capturing fleeting moments rather than endlessly refining them.These materials serve as both mediums and metaphors, capturing the tension between permanence and transience (Cai, 2015; Haraway, 2016).

In one project, I used coal to create a spontaneous painting of Tang Xianzu, the “Shakespeare of China.” This work bridges myliterary background with my artistic practice, drawing on Edward Said’s Orientalism and Homi K. Bhabha’s “Third Space” to challenge traditional narratives about cultural exchange (Said, 1978; Tang, 1598).

Inspired by Cai Guo-Qiang’s Sky Ladder, I incorporates ash to emphasize the fleeting yet powerful impact of ephemeral materials. My works with ash and coal transform residues of destruction into spaces for reflection, exploring how beauty can emerge from impermanence.

The interconnection between materiality, identity, and human connection forms the crux of my artistic practice. By juxtaposing modularity with personal narratives, I aim to reveal the deeper tensions of modern existence.

Connection in an Atomized World

Heidegger, Blanchot, and the Crisis of Modernity
In my work, I draw heavily on Heidegger’s and Maurice Blanchot’s existential philosophies to examine the atomization of contemporary urban life. Heidegger’s concept of everydayness and inauthenticity reveals how repetitive routines mask existential emptiness, a critique that informs my exploration of modern urban life. Blanchot extends this existential critique by exploring nihilism and social atomization, suggesting that acknowledging the void can lead to creative potential.

Through the lens of Heidegger’s existential philosophy, my work critiques the illusion of shared experiences in consumer culture. The poem “Isn’t it Beautiful?” reflects the paradox of consumer culture—a superficial sense of unity amidst deep social atomization. The repetition in the poem mirrors the repetitiveness of consumer habits, echoing the inauthenticity that Heidegger describes. However, by confronting the inherent nihilism of urban life, I attempt to unlock creative potential and explore new forms of expression.

Blanchot’s ideas on solitude and nothingness further inform my artistic exploration. In a world where consumer culture dictates the meaning of life, the experience of nothingness becomes a site for potential creativity. By acknowledging the void, I attempt to discover new meanings that go beyond consumer-driven identities. My use of mundane materials—coal, LEGO, Pringles—becomes a statement of resistance against a culture that assigns value based on consumer appeal. These materials, often associated with mass production, become tools through which I express a deeper sense of existence, one that is rooted in the interplay between the transient and the enduring.

Through my layered installations and poetic reflections, I investigates the complexities of identity, belonging, and connection in a fragmented world. Drawing inspiration from figures like Julie Mehretu, Doug Aitken, and Cai Guo-Qiang, I bridges the ordinary and extraordinary, the ephemeral and permanent.

By reimagining everyday materials like LEGO bricks, Pringles cans, coal, and ash, I invites viewers to find beauty and meaning within the repetition of modern life. My work offers a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the possibility of rediscovering connection in an atomized world.

Philosophical critiques of modernity prompted me to reconsider my material choices, not merely as aesthetic decisions but as deeply tied to narratives of self and identity. This realization led to my use of cigar ash as a creative medium.

Coal and ash, as byproducts of combustion, resonate deeply with my understanding of Heidegger’s ‘being-towards-death.’ Their fleeting existence reflects the temporal nature of life, while their raw texture symbolizes a desire for authenticity amidst a world dominated by artificiality. Through these materials, I capture the ephemeral yet transformative nature of human existence

Cigar ash, a random drawing utensil I had at the time when I was barricaded at home, worked unexpectedly well, didn’t make it again in the UK, I think I need some more of this special textured paper shipped over from China.

From the poem Ozmandias, two trunkless legs.

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Shelley, P.B. (1818) Ozymandias. Available at: Poetry Foundation (Accessed: 6 December 2024).

The rhythmic and graphic nature of the poetry recited, and the particularity given to the material, the giant legs of the statue turned to ashes in the desert of time, nothing can be eternal, what should be eternal is the heart of those in power who really think of the people, and the spiritual values that the artist celebrates for them, not the individualism of the fame and fortune.

This artwork, created using cigar ash, captures an ephemeral and visceral aesthetic, reflecting both physicality and temporality. The sweeping motions and dispersed textures convey a sense of dynamic energy, as though the ash is caught mid-motion. The work feels alive with movement, marked by a tension between spontaneity and control. The gestural quality, reminiscent of dry ink splatters in traditional Chinese ink painting, suggests a dialogue with traditional aesthetics while embracing contemporary materiality.

The variations in tone, from densely packed areas to lighter, more diffuse sections, create a rhythm that draws the viewer’s eye through the composition. These gradations of texture evoke a sense of time—both its fleeting nature and its residue, as the ash speaks to what has burned and dissipated yet leaves behind a trace. The dynamic interplay of space within the artwork hints at the infinite—an expanse that reaches beyond the frame while holding the viewer in the present moment.

When creating this piece, my fingertips gently guided the cigar ash across the surface, allowing it to disperse and gather in a way that formed free yet tension-filled lines. Each stroke seems to leap through the air, carrying a sense of rhythm and movement, while the natural roughness of the material enhances the raw and tactile quality of the image. The granularity of the ash leaves a distinctive texture on the paper, amplifying the work’s ruggedness and strength.

The lines in the composition possess an effortless yet deliberate fluidity, akin to an improvised conversation. The ash defied complete control—it scattered, leaped, and left traces unpredictably on the paper. This uncontrollability injects a sense of life and motion into the work. Each line feels like a trace of time slipping by, simultaneously suggesting spatial depth, as if it extends beyond the confines of the surface.

The piece conveys a sense of “unfinished” beauty, as though it captures a moment paused in motion, yet hints at what might come next. The rough edges and the dry texture of the ash intensify the visual impact while imbuing the composition with a meditative stillness. The overall structure recalls the dispersive energy of dry ink brushwork, but the ash adds an extra layer of somber weight to the imagery.

It is not easy to get some good quality ash, as smoking a cigar requires a sense of rhythm, a slow and even pace, say forty seconds for a puff, in order to fully burn and hold the ash.

After trying many normal pigments I find that I still prefer to use powdered ash type materials, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I like to cook with a collection of catch seasonings.

Immersing Myself in Experiments with Language and Ash

The faintest tremor of an eyelash,

a fingertip—

brushing off ash, tracing lightly across the page—

can take the place

of the ancient king’s statue.

And so I grant it a voice,

raw and true,

and the falling ash

its delicate, unbroken trail.

While ashes and coal capture the ephemerality and raw vitality of existence, they also serve as metaphors for broader cultural and historical narratives. This exploration naturally extends to how cultural and political figures are perceived and remembered over time, reflecting the tension between permanence and transience not only in materials but also in collective memory.

Cultural Reflections: Mao Zedong and Che Guevara

Bhabha (1994) describes the “Third Space” as a site of negotiation where cultural meanings are constantly reconstructed. My poem reflects this tension, juxtaposing Mao’s pragmatic proximity with Che’s idealized distance. Both figures, refracted through cultural memory, reveal how history and heroism are reconstructed across temporal and spatial divides.

I often engages with cultural and political figures to explore identity and belonging. In my poem Distance, I juxtaposes Mao Zedong’s pragmatism with Che Guevara’s romantic idealism:

Distance

Mao Zedong is a mountain too close,

its peak so low, we can almost touch it

Too close—

we see the rocks scarred by the wind’s nails,

we see him age like a riverbed,

fading, yet still alive with motion

He aged too quickly,

too quickly for us to step back

The young, of course, adore Che Guevara,

that sensual Buddha,

with one more cigar,

and one less world than the Buddha himself

The smoke from him is rainforest mist,

a damp illusion,

yet scalding,

like a fire that will not end

Those who leave forever stay young.

I imagine lighting a cigar for him,

the flame illuminating his face,

like the dawn of a revolution,

while I am but the echo

of a passing wind

These contrasting portrayals of Mao and Che illustrate how time and distance shape historical memory. The closer we are to a figure, the more vividly we see their complexities; the farther we are, the more likely we are to romanticize and simplify.

Reframing Historical Figures through Distance: A Psychological and Cultural Perspective

Historical figures like Mao Zedong and Che Guevara are perceived differently due to the psychological and cultural effects of time and distance. Mao, deeply embedded in our cultural consciousness, is often seen through a pragmatic and critical lens. His later-life mistakes, including the harm caused by certain policies, leave visible scars on his legacy. In contrast, Che Guevara, who died young, is remembered as a symbol of passion and idealism. The distance in time and geography has filtered out the flaws and allowed his youthful charisma to persist as an eternal ideal.

This phenomenon can be explained through the psychological theory of temporal construal (Trope & Liberman, 2003), which posits that greater temporal or spatial distance leads to abstract representations, focusing on idealized or simplified aspects. Conversely, proximity encourages a more detailed and nuanced perspective, revealing flaws and complexities. From a cultural perspective, the romanticization of Che echoes art history’s portrayal of idealized figures, akin to ancient Greek sculptures that emphasized perfection by omitting flaws (Haskell & Penny, 1981). Mao, by contrast, is akin to realist art, revealing the texture of both achievements and imperfections.

Time and distance act as filters, shaping collective memory by allowing selective focus.

Challenging Anthropocentrism Through the Ant Installation 

In my latest work, I center the concept of an ant installation to explore the complex relationship between human society and the individual. Ants serve as a symbol of social beings, prompting me to reconsider the human condition within modern society. Ants, much like us, function as the atoms of society—each individual thrives within a collective, yet cannot survive when isolated. To tell you the truth, I only designed this ant model and made only a few, so I would say again that my artwork cannot survive without the group’s help.

The behavior of ants has made me deeply aware that while individuals may seem insignificant within the collective, their existence is vital to the structure of society. Although modern culture often emphasizes individualism and independence, in reality, we still rely on each other for psychological and emotional well-being. In my artwork, the metaphor of ants prompts me to reevaluate the structure of human societies, questioning whether we can truly sustain independence in a highly individualized world.

My ant installations serve as an analogy for the collective nature of human existence. Ants, much like humans, function as parts of a larger whole, yet they maintain individuality within their social structure. This reflects my own experience of navigating between cultures and identities, striving to find a sense of belonging while recognizing the multiplicity of influences that shape me. The visual representation of ants, following a single path but branching off to explore new directions, serves as a metaphor for my journey of cultural integration and identity formation.

Ants, as metaphors for social beings, serve as focal points in my installation, reflecting their remarkable cooperation and the contrast with human communication. Unlike humans, who rely on language—a tool both powerful and problematic—ants achieve seamless harmony through pheromone-based signals (Hölldobler & Wilson, 1990). Their non-verbal communication is efficient and direct, ensuring collective success without the misunderstandings or conflicts often caused by human language.

This reflection aligns with posthumanist critiques of anthropocentrism. Posthumanist thinkers, such as Rosi Braidotti, challenge the human-centered worldview and advocate for recognizing the agency and value of non-human entities in shaping our ecosystems, societies, and cultures (Braidotti, 2013). Ants, as a metaphor for decentralized systems, offer a model of cooperation that transcends the hierarchical and often self-centered constructs of human society. Their behavior encourages a shift in perspective, emphasizing the importance of non-human actors in fostering ecological and social balance.

In my work, the ant installation not only critiques human dependency on language but also evokes a broader posthumanist inquiry. By focusing on the collective over the individual, and the tactile over the verbal, the installation invites viewers to reconsider the nature of communication and connection. It challenges the audience to question whether our linguistic complexity is always an asset or whether, like the ants, we might rediscover forms of cooperation that are simpler, more intuitive, and less bound by anthropocentric constraints. In this way, the work seeks to open a dialogue about the potential of decentralization and interspecies connection in reimagining our place within the broader ecological system.

This contrast prompts a reflection on how language, while enabling humans to express complex ideas, can also lead to cultural divides, miscommunication, and deception. As Chomsky (1986) highlights, language’s creative potential is matched by its inherent ambiguity. Derrida (1976) similarly critiques language as an imperfect system, filled with gaps that often hinder mutual understanding. In this sense, ants represent a utopian ideal of cooperation—free from the barriers and manipulations of language.

By representing ants in my installation, I aim to critique the limitations of human communication and highlight the potential for non-verbal, intuitive connections. This reflection extends to question whether humanity could ever achieve the same harmony as ant societies, where actions and collective effort outweigh the need for verbal agreements.

This installation critiques the atomization of modern society, questioning whether human connections can withstand the pressures of individualism. Drawing from Maurice Blanchot’s writings on solitude and nihilism, the work explores how acknowledging isolation might unlock new forms of creativity and social structure (Blanchot, 1981).

Conclusion

As Heidegger (1927) reminds us, existence is an ongoing negotiation with time, a dynamic also reflected in Du Bois’s (1903) “double consciousness.” My practice seeks to embody this negotiation, weaving personal and collective narratives through ephemeral and modular materials.

By transforming everyday materials into layered narratives, I confront the paradoxes of modern existence—where transient beauty and collective connection offer a counterpoint to the atomization of contemporary life.

In the dust of ash, the weight of coal, and the modularity of bricks, I find whispers of existence—impermanent, fragmented, yet profoundly human.

About the Author

Scarlett is an interdisciplinary artist exploring themes of culture, identity, and materiality. Originally from China, she combines poetry and modular installations to critique standardization and reflect on belonging in a globalized world. She is currently based in London and is a graduate of MA Fine Art at Camberwell College of Arts (2023).

Website: https://scarlettguan.myportfolio.com

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/scarlettguan2.0/

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