The romantic notion of home paints it as a nurturing, safe place; a haven or refuge from tensions that disturb the outside world. It is a space of comfort and belonging, of warmth and affection. It is where one feels at ease the most, and as the old cliché goes, a place like no other.
In this exhibition, Yeo Kaa unsettles the sense of security and content felt at home through an outward gaze that exposes the perils and menaces hidden or distant from one’s comfortable abode. The phrase “from the comfort of my own home” draws irony from the stark contrast between inside and outside conditions, with the outside as the site of danger and harsh realities of life. Central to this opposition is the attempt to confront the vantage point of a privileged existence—being sheltered or immune from the difficulties and suffering of others by virtue of one’s social position. The home here refers not only to the immediate household, but extends to larger communities—from posh apartment buildings to gated, self-contained residential zones—which similarly detach society’s privileged few from the experiences of the common people. Recent events, such as the ongoing pandemic and the string of calamities that besieged the artist’s native Philippines, have rendered the disparity between the lives of the rich and the poor more pronounced. The works interrogate this gap and the former’s filtered encounter of the latter’s struggles.
The disjuncture among lived realities shaped by social inequality is conveyed in the glass enclosures that blur the depicted imagery in each work. On a remote control’s cue, clear images of natural calamities like floods and forest fires, pollution and environmental decay, are revealed, shifting the audience back and forth between the shielded view of privilege and the more vivid and gripping accounts of difficult life out there. Like the white overlay that covers the scenes of tragedies and devastations behind it, privilege may sanitize one’s picture of reality and disengage us from the plight of society’s margins. These pieces remind us to constantly assess the lenses through which we access the wider world, and to look beyond our positionalities that may conceal truths outside the convenience of our social spheres.
The romantic notion of home paints it as a nurturing, safe place; a haven or refuge from tensions that disturb the outside world. It is a space of comfort and belonging, of warmth and affection. It is where one feels at ease the most, and as the old cliché goes, a place like no other.
In this exhibition, Yeo Kaa unsettles the sense of security and content felt at home through an outward gaze that exposes the perils and menaces hidden or distant from one’s comfortable abode. The phrase “from the comfort of my own home” draws irony from the stark contrast between inside and outside conditions, with the outside as the site of danger and harsh realities of life. Central to this opposition is the attempt to confront the vantage point of a privileged existence—being sheltered or immune from the difficulties and suffering of others by virtue of one’s social position. The home here refers not only to the immediate household, but extends to larger communities—from posh apartment buildings to gated, self-contained residential zones—which similarly detach society’s privileged few from the experiences of the common people. Recent events, such as the ongoing pandemic and the string of calamities that besieged the artist’s native Philippines, have rendered the disparity between the lives of the rich and the poor more pronounced. The works interrogate this gap and the former’s filtered encounter of the latter’s struggles.
The disjuncture among lived realities shaped by social inequality is conveyed in the glass enclosures that blur the depicted imagery in each work. On a remote control’s cue, clear images of natural calamities like floods and forest fires, pollution and environmental decay, are revealed, shifting the audience back and forth between the shielded view of privilege and the more vivid and gripping accounts of difficult life out there. Like the white overlay that covers the scenes of tragedies and devastations behind it, privilege may sanitize one’s picture of reality and disengage us from the plight of society’s margins. These pieces remind us to constantly assess the lenses through which we access the wider world, and to look beyond our positionalities that may conceal truths outside the convenience of our social spheres.
Her palette and figuration may at first mislead viewers into thinking they have stumbled upon a festive gathering of happy thoughts, cutesy musings, and innocent wonder. This impression quickly fades as the compositions reveal content ranging from the dark and troubling, to gloomy and depressing—nothing naïve nor cheerful about them. Gripping with details such as mutilated body parts, infliction of pain, suicide, or episodes of anxiety and distress, the works of Yeo Kaa actually deals with the darker side of life, just candy-coated with pastel and luminous shades, and told using doll-figured tableaux. While drawing mostly from personal narratives, the imagery of her art converses easily with common human experiences, thus expanding into broader reflections about humanity and society.
In this set of works, she alludes to the some bitter realities of contemporary life, particularly its extremely competitive nature and the drive of greed that creates exploitative relations and systems. We live in a world in which everything has a price tag, suggested in the paintings by a list where animal meat and humans go together on sale, and a head likewise packed and appraised. Milking cash out of the individual knows no limit: even in a lifeless state, a cadaver with torso ripped open generates money as someone poses a snapshot with it. From the poses, gestures, and expressions of other figures combined with recurring scribblings of texts, what emerges is a feeling of betrayal and exhaustion, a rant and protest that one has been sucked dry and has had enough. A call for escape seems to linger; a denouncement of a vicious cycle.
These pieces could remind us that the ugly side of a society ruled by the game of survival of the fittest is oftentimes made more covert and clandestine by an enticing, attractive façade, just like how the intense confrontation between a fed-up persona and the exploitative system depicted in the works is partly concealed by their colors and stylization. They may also imply the very ills of a consumer society in which the glossy and glittering promise of material goods, luxuries, wealth, and possession is what pushes individuals to turn cunning and exploit. But this appearance of a pleasant surface may also be a strength. Striking and eye-catching, it allows the voice that rejects the system to be more amplified.
Ending a fruitful year with a bang, Yeo Kaa mounts a solo exhibition this December in celebration of all the good things and happy moments that marked her life for the past year. Like throwing a real party, she fills the show with paintings of merrymaking scenes expressing gratitude, and creates a festive mood through installations of balloons and neon lights. Since a party is not complete without a feast, she sets a table for the centerpiece with sculptural pieces that highlight the Filipino party eating experience—from lechon and halo-halo to barbecue and spaghetti. A thankful note to close a prolific year of artistic output, she deviates from the usual dark themes that characterize her art, focusing instead on the fun and the festive which has always been complementary to her choice of palette and figuration style. Expressing a cheerful vibe—sincerely devoid of irony between the lines often suggested in her past works—the exhibition just basks in gratefulness and positivity, a triumph over sadness and grief. It sends a message of counting one’s blessings and looking forward to great things yet to come.
I’m sorry I can’t stop pulling my hair I can’t stop biting my skin I can’t stop banging my head I can’t stop shaking I can’t stop biting my nails I can’t stop scratching my face I can’t stop yelling I can’t stop crying I can’t stop hurting myself.