侯晴

Stegosaurus stenops clothing scraps, fabric, epoxy resin, plastic wire, M&Ms (peanut), toy dinosaurs, number signs, plastic cups, puzzle pieces, paper scraps
2025 @trapezraum

Still life Acupuncture needles, century egg, food scraps, feathers, glass, rubber bands, sponge cloth, styrofoam boxes 2025

[Documentation of “laissez-faire”, Hou Ching] 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐳-𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞 Artist: @houfreeworld Curated by @gnownerak @jenniferyue Exhibition period: 18–24 March 2025 Opening hours: 1400–1900 Location: CRASH, Rm303, JCCAC, Hong Kong Last two days of the show. Please DM us to book your visit before you come 💥

A stone lion guards leftover TVs. Who once watched them? Who will use them next? Second-hand shops are transitional spaces where objects don’t stay. Nothing remains, but the stone lion and a handful of pebbles. In this past week CRASH saw Hou Ching ( @houfreeworld ) building installations and photo archives with materials sourced from the nearby neighbourhood of Sham Shui Po. We welcome everyone—ragpickers or not—to come see 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐳-𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞 on 18 March. 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐳-𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞 Exhibition period: 18–24 March 2025 Opening hours: 1400–1900 Opening Reception Date: 18 March 2025 (Tue) Time: 1900 Venue: Room 303, JCCAC, HK *Please dm us to book your visit.

Deemed obsolete or out of date, electronic waste does not decompose just as their warranty expires. These discarded speakers and TVs are collected by rag-pickers and sent for extended use in Pakistan, Ghana, or Nigeria. The grandparents of Hou Ching 侯晴 (b. 2001, Hong Kong), ran such a rag-and-bone business in Sham Shui Po. He grew up loading recycled electronics into containers, and his artistic practice of scavenging resonates with this family history in recovering the resilience of materials as well as their users’. With an intent to challenge grand narratives within the historicity of Hong Kong, he argues for situational and improvisational wisdom as the guiding principles for a transitory generation. Hou Ching lives and works between Hong Kong and Berlin. His practice spans painting, sculpture, photography, writing, and curation. Translating across milieus, the artist seeks to dissolve false promises and utopian visions into multivalent storylines, where hidden inheritances and debts emerge in a new light, illuminating the complex potentialities inherent in each moment of time. — CRASH’s artist-in-residence from 5–24 March curated by @gnownerak and @jenniferyue , featuring Hou Ching @houfreeworld . Please stay tuned for upcoming events and openings. // 即使保養期結束，老舊、過時的電子器材也不會自行分解。這些被丟棄的揚聲器和電視往往會被電子回收商（俗稱「收買佬」）轉售到巴基斯坦、加納或尼日利亞等地，延長其使用壽命。 侯晴（2001年，生於香港）的祖父母便曾在深水埗經營這樣的回收生意。他自小就會幫忙將修復好的電子產品裝入貨櫃。這段家族歷史讓他親歷材料與其使用者的韌性，也啟發了他將撿拾（scavenging）伸延成一種藝術實踐。他希望挑戰香港歷史中的宏大敘事，主張以「執生」—即處境意識與即興智慧—作為世代遷移的生存方針。 侯晴在香港和柏林兩地生活和工作，他的創作涵蓋繪畫、雕塑、攝影、寫作和策展。他試圖在不同領域之間進行轉譯，拆解虛假的承諾，將烏托邦願景解構成多元的敘事脈絡。在他的作品中，隱藏的繼承與虧欠將浮現在全新的詮釋中，揭示每一瞬間所蘊涵的潛能。 — CRASH 本月藝術駐場項目由 @gnownerak 和 @jenniferyue 共同策劃，駐場藝術家為侯晴 @houfreeworld 。他將於三月五日至二十四日進行為期二十日的藝術創作。CRASH 將會有公開活動，請留意相關通知。

I’d like to be kitschy but delicate Very refined but a little crazy Not too snobbish nor slimy Sincere only in my own ways I’ll draw my own flowery pattern Steal some from my grandma’s bed sheets Get way too distracted by a sunset Make myself a cheap tea I’d be a little less spontaneous I’ll stop promising too much Sorry for scaring you with my passion It’s just because I saw your eyes sparkle But I’ll still walk fast when we hang Paint too much red for your liking It’s alright if I’ll bleed a little Please just let me keep my feathers

金絲雀/ Lobster God

2 One hears tales about falling in love in a different country. It seems like things are always more interesting when one is on the move. When wolves hunt, they pay full attention to what is around them, sensing carefully all that appears on the fringes of the pack. Perhaps it is this attention that paints an exotic landscape. “Returning” to nature is becoming quite impossible, especially when no land or sea is unmarked by humans. You knew what you packed along: your crafts, your morals. Out on the high seas, you had to create brief illusions of wilderness. Let the wild animal drag you into the chase, let it give you a true taste of “nature.” What is out there, moving at a different speed? Oh, a marlin, how exciting! It flashed its brilliant scales, and you knew you were circled by its mysterious path. Then you stared again: you only saw waves, dark and cold. Where had it gone? The fish was the anomaly, it was what held you together - you, your rod, your boat, your fate. Even when you did not see it, it left you hanging. 3 A bite! The rod shook with excitement, your adrenaline ran high; it was a different game. The wait was over; you were no longer fish. Pull, like having your dog on the other end of a leash. Like lovers, locked in an intimate kiss. The animal was no longer wild. “Tame the beast!” they yelled at you, as if you two were wrestling in a ring. 7…6…5… who was giving up first? What was breaking, your line or its jaw? Fibers contracted in your biceps, the filament pulled tight. Slowly and steadily, you pulled the fish toward you. How the tables had turned! Your mouth started to water; you imagined the taste of its flesh. The magic was gone the moment you touched its scales. How to strike a cool pose? How to slice the fillets? “Oh hey, you are back.” Back as a human, back online. Imagery, culinary. You held the trophy up with a bright grin, showing the teeth you would use to devour it. You dragged the fish into your world. After a quick and delicious process, you were forever fused with your prey.

1 You cast your bait. It skimmed across the sky with a beautiful arc and gently dove into the water. The surface became still again, reflective and metallic. “Where are the fish?” you wondered. You already knew there were fish, or else you wouldn’t have come here. Your only concern was when the bait would be bitten. Baits are your camouflage, your becoming-fish. In murky waters, you whispered with your shimmering bait: come here, come and give me a kiss! Of course, you were very focused on your bait. With your fingers, you felt for every vibration on the fishing line, like a spider sitting in its web, its milieu. The spider does not know how it evolved to making webs, and you have equally little idea how the first fishing tools looked. They say the human hand “appeared as a free form” on the steppe, but here on the high seas, it has found a new, unique expression. Take the spider from its web and it will perish: the web is the spider, the bait is the angler. Every time you fished, you got better at it. It is an arms race. You invested in better clothing and more advanced tools. Now you wondered how the fishing rod fit so comfortably in your hand, as if you were born with it. There was no separating you from your bait; you depended on it; it was who you are.