San Francisco
Yerba Buena Center for the Arts
Combining sound, light, and exquisitely realized sculpture, Nick Dong’s dazzling, immersive “11 to 88” (on view through August 25, 2024) invites a kind of trance-like, wordless appreciation of beauty alone. Yet Dong makes it clear from the outset that a set of guiding principles is meant to enrich the experience of the 11 works in the exhibition, creating an intersection between the spiritual and the corporeal—between what we come to know through our minds and what we absorb through our senses. Turning 50 led Dong to envision a grand project. These works, ranging from wall-hung sculptures to room-size installations, are only the first of what will be a total of 88 interconnected works, to be completed in 2028. Eight auspicious symbols of Tibetan Buddhism, including the lotus, the infinity knot, and the white conch shell, will be correlated with 11 “life quests,” as Dong puts it, including connectivity, impermanence, luck, and prosperity.
The works on view represent this intersection of body and spirit abstractly, most often through the sound of delicate electronic music and the play of light—glowing flowers or cubes and water-like, rippling reflections from literally thousands of mirrors. In a vast, darkened gallery, eight spotlit works are placed near or on the walls, with one large triangular piece featuring bells and a bronze bowl in the center of the room. Two separate installations, one intended for a single viewer at a time, are entered through doors in this main gallery.
The pieces “activate” in order, going clockwise from the main entrance. Dong intends their sound and movement to be experienced in sequence, but the works are compelling enough as sculpture that some visitors, unaware that there is a scripted path, move freely around the room. Each work follows a cycle of lighting and/or movement for the duration of a unique sound composition, three to five minutes long, created specifically for it. Even when not in “active” mode, the works have a kind of surreal, infinite presence, called up through a combination of meticulous craft and literally thousands (if not tens of thousands) of mirrors.
Dong’s training as a metalsmith and jeweler is evident. There are numerous examples of beautifully wrought forms and, in one piece, a web of gems. His approach to materials can be pragmatic as well as inventive. In Lotus of Living and Dying (all works 2024), layers of stylized flower petals look as though they were formed out of beaten bronze, or perhaps even gold. In actuality, they were shaped from the same high-density foam used for surfboards. In Dharma Wheel of Time, parts taken from nine antique clock cases have been reconfigured into one large, mandala-like frame. At the center, a cube of light seemingly recedes and then returns, in an octagonal “tunnel” created with mirrors.
Dong exploits the properties of mirrors in many different ways. In Two Golden Fishes of Connectivity, two abstract forms rotate slowly over a round field of mirror tiles. On the wall nearby, tiny dancing reflections from those tiles create an impression of light on water. In Lotus of Impermanence, the largest work in the show, similar reflections from a “pond” composed of over 100,000 pieces of mirror fill a canopy overhead with moving fragments of light, invoking an infinite field of stars. Below, the mosaic of mirrors undulates gently, like a sea of mud or maybe lava.
Dong’s most masterful and enchanting manipulation of mirrors takes place in Dharma Wheel of Ego and Egoless, a small, 12-sided chamber. The shoeless visitor, who enters alone through an unobtrusive door manned by a guard, is invited to sit on a rotating stool at the room’s center. Surrounded by reflections—on the floor, ceiling, and the 12 sections of wall—the viewer watches as each wall panel divides vertically into two, folding inward and then unfolding, further refracting light and reflection into splintered bits of light and color. Dong describes this piece as “a space where worldly achievements, fears, pressures, and material wealth vanish, leading to a state of ego-lessness and the experience of true inner peace and freedom.” Whether or not it succeeds with these ambitious goals, the effect is enchanting. Yayoi Kusama may be strongly identified with mirror rooms, but Dong’s moving walls make an ingenious and original contribution.
Throughout the exhibition, he deploys an impressive knowledge of engineering, invisibly manipulating objects, sound, and illumination in ways that seem magical. In two works, for example, electromagnetic force allows sculptures of stylized lotus buds to float effortlessly. Like Rafael Lozano-Hemmer, Dong blends technological innovation almost seamlessly with traditional sculptural approaches. Both artists rely on viewer presence and action (activating sensors, for instance) to complete their works; but, while Lozano-Hemmer has realized that allowing visitors to choose their own paths is more realistic, Dong seems to want to control or at least direct audience experience. Still, whether one chooses to follow the route prescribed by Dong or not, the experience of his work—for the senses and for the spirit—is powerful.
