“Welcome >_< Take a Seat Wherever (cringevibing on a downward spiral)”
Tomorrow Maybe, Eaton HK
Hong Kong
Aug 13–Sep 3, 2023

Tomorrow Maybe, a nonprofit art space located in a commercial hotel in Jordan, is as diverse as the grassroots community that surrounds it. Its recent exhibition, “Welcome >_< Take a Seat Wherever (cringevibing on a downward spiral),” curated by Angela Liu, was a rare sight in Hong Kong, showcasing works from artists that reflected upon meme culture, virtual idols, the viral “political compass,” Gen Z nostalgia, simulacra, and even sadomasochism. 

At the entrance, a giant logo and fluorescent pink and black wall texts designed by Suze Chan welcomed audiences, a prelude to the show’s unusualness. Occupying the first corner, artists Miri & Jenn collaborated on the installation .nomedia-doll (datadollyeschalon.exe) (2023), which displayed prints of dolls with the slogan, “Yes. We are prayer,” a life-size Lolita doll, and a pink chiffon enveloped laptop with an interactive "game" that mimicked VTubers (a live-streamer disguised as an anime person behind the 3D filter). The game was connected to Twitch's live-streaming service, creating a complex relationship between VTuber culture and reality. During my visit, the software didn’t connect to the live stream, a common issue with new media and digital art when software and hardware are not properly maintained or resilient toward interaction. 

In the main space, Noura Tafeche’s Annihilation Core, Inherited Lore (2023), a square rug with a political compass for the chronically online, subverted the traditional meme-format’s political polarizations by featuring titles such as “fully kawaiified remote warfare” and “UWU war crime.” Placed on top of the carpet were cushions bearing emblems of internet culture: Tiktoks of female Israeli military personnel, Japanese kawaii icons (Hello Kitty, Kuromi), and an ahegao-faced catgirl. Whether a critique of contemporary war propaganda or a reflection of niche online tribes, Tafeche’s attempt to ridicule by reinforcing cutesy imagery provided no concrete opinion. 

Other artists also used political compasses, such as Brandon Bandy’s Political Compass Chair (2021) and Rachel Jackson's Hypertext Monuments (2022), flat PVC prints that incorporated IKEA’s Vilbert chair and Superstudio’s graphic design. Meanwhile, Bandy’s United Nations Hello Kitty Schitzo Tribute Jar Project Devirtualized (I love the antichrist) 2005 (2004-2022) referenced online memes, appropriating imagery and flattening them onto a PVC board, echoing Jean Baudrillard’s concept of simulacra, where signs lose their relation to reality. Bandy and Jackson’s generative AI imagery in Objects for Ascension (2022), a printed book “on the cultural schizophrenia of the last decade,” only reinforced this idea. 

This sense of detachment could also be observed in Ringo Lo’s VeryVeryVeryVeryVery (Evening Gown & Things) (2023), composed of wall text on paper and a used evening gown, quoting lyrics from the dance music in “Taiko no Tatsujin,” a popular arcade game. While Lo created a nonsensical cipher by contrasting digital and nostalgic kitsch, Janice Kei’s similarly kitschy Deus ex machina (2023), a resin-based installation with haphazardly-attached memorabilia from the 2000–2010s, referenced art-TikTok’s #corecore, a hauntological re-emergence of Dada and Fluxus. 

In contrast, E8mkboy’s dominatrix-inspired paintings, however kitsch and explicit, showcased their genuine ability as a painter. E8’s style is diverse, yet consistent with the currents, evident through Pressure (2023), which references the visual composition of “Piper Perri Surrounded”—a meme depicting a porn actress surrounded by five actors—but with E8 surrounded by dominatrixes. The Chair (2023) is an unconventional self-portrait: stickers on E8’s eyes conceal their identity, while a pet bowl, clothes, and shoes were placed in front of the painting. E8 trapped in the girls’ dormitory for the Nth day (2022), is another self-portrait, but with more expressive brush strokes and abstraction, depicting E8’s own sadistic experience. 

At the end of the space, Cas Wong’s Who’s That Girl (2023) displayed another grotesque doll-figure gruesomely kneeling in liquid as a critique of online fan culture. Convoluted wall prints with slogans led to futile reading, especially considering their prevalence in the exhibition. This overuse of text was exemplified by the curator’s own video essay Adderall Nation, Ketamine Please (2023), a collage consisting of words, random TikTok clips, and underlays of Minecraft, Temple Run, and Subway Surfers gameplay, an attention-grabbing technique that was paradoxically distracting for the audience. According to Liu’s description, the piece represents how social media has disrupted her thinking in a data-overloaded generation. 

“Welcome” demonstrated a radical change of symbols, especially in online spaces, while hinting at generational anxiety. The titular emoticon (>_<) is shy and uneasy, an emotion that can only be resolved through recursive irony in a constant collage of memes and data. Regardless, the exhibition’s heavy reliance upon text, symbolism, and niche cultural references may have obstructed its audience. Did these artists intentionally trap their ideas within a cipher, created through overloaded signs and media? Whether the convolution was a result of artistic experimentation, exclusive signaling, or a futilitarian search for a narrative, an apparent existential crisis overshadowed their voices.  

Alex Yiu is ArtAsiaPacific’s associate editor. 

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