‘Untied Boat’, inspired by the annals of Chuang Tzu, is both an extended discussion on adaptation and migration amidst tremendous changes, and an ongoing exploration of the coexistence of freedom and crisis. This exhibition begins by tracing divergent paths in human civilization history, probing the gaps between images and material forms, inviting observers to reconsider how human beliefs are shaped by both consciousness and non-human elements.

The ‘boat’ stands as one of the symbols branching along this diverging path: faced the water area, humans craft boats to re-establish connections with rivers and oceans. What’s crucial here is that the boat serves not only as a conduit between land and water but also becomes a enduring metaphor in human language. This is evident from the myth of Noah’s Ark: the boat (also known as the ship) symbolizes humanity’s survival in perilous environments through artificial habitats. Hans Blumenberg suggests that humans, out of practical necessity, must live on land, yet their ‘existence’ resides on the sea. Even for those who have spent extended periods away from the sea, the boat remains a ‘Grundm Metapher’, as Blumenberg terms it—a metaphor where the prefix ‘Grund-’ meaning ‘ground’ and the root ‘-Metapher’ meaning ‘metaphor’ converge. Returning to the East, starting with Chuang Tzu, the boat assumes a significant role implying a state of existence characterized by naturalness, spontaneity, and freedom from worldly attachments and hindrances. Unlike the Western perspective, this metaphor is more abstract. Regardless of East or West, the boat carries not only physical cargo but also redemption, liberation, and a retreat from the world in the human spirit. In such a context, the centre of human existence surprisingly shifts from the vast lands to the drifting boat.

On the other hand, the ‘boat’ also carries with it an inherent fragility that comes with its self-imposed limitations, this point evident in the shell:The shell embodies a secure enclosure where temporality and spatiality are visually manifested. The shell itself is a space stacked by time; its growth lines are visible scales of time. Composed of hard calcium carbonate, the shell provides a shelter that can open and close, offering protection for delicate bodies. With its ancient and precise aesthetic construction, it silently inhabits the waters. In fact, the hard shell both emits signals of inner vulnerability and provides a potential for fracture. From Noah’s Ark to the fragile shell, human imagination is always filled with contradictions. In a sense, the boat to humans and the shell to the soft-bodied creatures dwelling within it are vastly different, yet they resemble the same entity. Thanks to the shell, we seem to have gained a broader perspective, observing the manned spacecraft and thus casting our gaze deeper into the realm of humanity.

When discussing the relationship between human and their potential, Giorgio Agamben believes that human cannot possess a potential; they can only dwell within it. ‘Habito’ is the reflexive verb of ‘Habao’: habitation is a unique mode of possession, a form so strong that it no longer involves owning anything. By possessing something, we inhabit it, becoming part of it, akin to how a shell cradles softness within its hard exterior. Yet all this begins with the mudflats: human faces water and the unknown, and the critical state on the mudflats is maximally assuaged. It does not entirely belong to the water, nor is it fully absorbed into the land. With infinite potential to generate, this gives rise to the boat, where vitality dwells in freedom.

Text by Yin Yunya