Shu Lea Cheang at The Project - Brief Article

Art in America, March, 2001 by Grady T. Turner

Stepping from a Harlem street into Shu Lea Cheang's exhibition at The Project, you might reasonably have assumed that you'd inadvertently stumbled into a public restroom. In a darkened space, seven urinals lined one wall, each lit by a focused spotlight. But it was soon evident that this was no ordinary restroom.

At first, the urinals that constituted the installation, titled Fluid, seemed unremarkable but for the dramatic lighting. They were standard issue and installed at the usual height. Looking closer, you discovered that they were actually lit by miniature projectors aimed so that videos appeared over the drains. The center urinal showcased goldfish swimming in a bowl. The videos in the flanking urinals were more risque, each featuring a tight shot of a contracting and distending anus that seemed to be squirming. Casually dropped into the drains, partially obscuring the videos, were condoms that looked heavy with jism. It was easy to be taken aback by the artist's apparent revelry in abject sexuality: confronting the images of sphincters in the porcelain basins, you couldn't help but ponder that men are capable of regarding sexual partners as mere semen receptacles.

Cheang's nod to R. Mutt's notorious urinal fits, as her art recalls Duchamp's cerebral eroticism. An activist formerly affiliated with Manhattan's Paper Tiger video group, she has recently turned to digital art. Her projects include a Web site commissioned by the Guggenheim Museum, titled Brandon, which commemorates the murdered Teena Renee Brandon, recently the subject of the film Boys Don't Cry. Cheang's focus on gender and identity crossed over to porn with her direction of the cyberfantasy digital video/ movie I.K.U. (its name is the phonetic translation from the Japanese phrase for "I'm cumming!").

Moving from the masculine preserve of the men's room, Cheang took us to the feminine indulgence of the bath with Tub I.K.U. The miniature bathtub on a narrow perch was transformed by a scaled-down video projection--again, from above--of a woman reclining in utter relaxation, her arms draped over the tub's edges. As her right arm dropped into the water to caress her body, tiny splashes resonated in the tub as she masturbated. This small sound drew viewers closer as the woman quietly reached orgasm and was satiated. Her arms returned to the sides of the tub, and the tape loop replayed this scene of exquisite intimacy.

No doubt an implicit comparison of male and female sexuality was intended by the contrast of Fluid and Tub I.K.U. Perhaps no new ground was broken in terms of understanding how men and women differ--did we not already suspect that men seek multiple partners while women seek intimacy (though presumably not only with themselves)? But Cheang's art is not based on having something new to say. Rather, she tells old truths in new ways, updating realities that always ring true.