清影

Inna Art Space is pleased to present Peishan Huang’s solo exhibition “Imagine a Returning Arrow”, opening on May 31, 2025, and running through July 15.

When a loosed arrow reverses its course, the unidirectionality of time is quietly ruptured—preset trajectories collapse, and scattered fragments re-converge. For Huang, the returning arrow represents a form of “self-retribution”, a blade to trace her creative lineage backward, and a gravitational core for reconstructing memory.

Huang’s practice begins with photography and imagery, transforming everyday symbols, materials, and motifs into soft sculptures and mixed-media installations by hand. From mass-produced ornaments in Yunnan’s rural markets to unclaimed bottles on a Parisian balcony and floral fences along Hangzhou’s Liuhe Road, memories are continuously refreshed by new energies, while an intuitive pursuit of beauty drives relentless re-imagination. Her work hovers between dual forces: the cold precision of synthetic objects and the tidal rhythms of emotion. Take the hook—a human-made object, a tool, a tentacle, a weapon, a key. For the artist, hooks—as physical extensions for capturing, suspending, and fixing—embody humanity’s will to control, their curved forms hinting at a desire to grasp the unattainable. When cast in resin as contemporary amber, their functionality dissolves into pure visual signs. This “failed capture” parodies mechanisms of power. By encasing artificial flora, circuit boards, and stainless steel in epoxy resin, Huang constructs an archaeological site of modern civilization: plastic veins, metallic nerves, and cold-lit skeletons fossilized as miniature Anthropocene artifacts, narrating unnamed cultural strata.

Inna Art Space is pleased to present Peishan Huang’s solo exhibition “Imagine a Returning Arrow”, opening on May 31, 2025, and running through July 15.

When a loosed arrow reverses its course, the unidirectionality of time is quietly ruptured—preset trajectories collapse, and scattered fragments re-converge. For Huang, the returning arrow represents a form of “self-retribution”, a blade to trace her creative lineage backward, and a gravitational core for reconstructing memory.

Huang’s practice begins with photography and imagery, transforming everyday symbols, materials, and motifs into soft sculptures and mixed-media installations by hand. From mass-produced ornaments in Yunnan’s rural markets to unclaimed bottles on a Parisian balcony and floral fences along Hangzhou’s Liuhe Road, memories are continuously refreshed by new energies, while an intuitive pursuit of beauty drives relentless re-imagination. Her work hovers between dual forces: the cold precision of synthetic objects and the tidal rhythms of emotion. Take the hook—a human-made object, a tool, a tentacle, a weapon, a key. For the artist, hooks—as physical extensions for capturing, suspending, and fixing—embody humanity’s will to control, their curved forms hinting at a desire to grasp the unattainable. When cast in resin as contemporary amber, their functionality dissolves into pure visual signs. This “failed capture” parodies mechanisms of power. By encasing artificial flora, circuit boards, and stainless steel in epoxy resin, Huang constructs an archaeological site of modern civilization: plastic veins, metallic nerves, and cold-lit skeletons fossilized as miniature Anthropocene artifacts, narrating unnamed cultural strata.

Beyond material reinvention, Huang’s recent work is an ongoing act of self-archaeology. She sifts through vast archives of images, manuscripts, ideas, and fragments, re-examining old hard drives and notebooks to excavate forgotten “seashells on the beach” from digital debris and scribbled drafts. She likens this process to being struck by boomerangs she once hurled—past creative impulses return with recalibrated trajectories. Instead of evading these collisions, Huang uses her body as a measuring tool, calculating the dissipation of primal energy through the depth of bruises. This experimental self-quantification sharpens in her Reconstructed Images series, where photographic planes are pierced by cubic zirconia crystals and watermark-like texts emerge faintly behind images, manifesting a clash of dual forces.

Huang perpetually tears at surfaces to rebuild. Whether resin-encased security devices suspended in artificial ruins or zirconia fences refracting overexposed realities, all point to the same existential dilemma: as synthetic materials become the new nature and erasure is sanctified as creation, we may be hosting an excessively radiant funeral for truth with counterfeit crystalline light. The archived drafts, resonant vortices, and remolded pixels ultimately coalesce into a nonlinear psychological landscape—each chapter a precise detonation of personal history.