NKO – An Other Total Failure of Language

Ephemeral materials – resurrected from the garbage – scavenged, collected and assembled – lie mostly concealed under the works of NKO. A collection of hundreds of works ranging from a few inches square to wall sized canvases are hung salon-style in the artist’s otherwise austere, scrubbed apartment. The show represents a year’s worth of work – of remembering and forgetting – of walking a little too far into impermanence and finding the way back.

This body of work is an elegantly cohesive whole. Every piece is made up of the distinctive loops and lines of the artist’s handwriting. Multiple lines of writing overlap into an indecipherable lacework of pattern, but sometimes there is a single, lingering word – as though the artist’s mind suddenly slipped into a temporary quiet.

There is a certain urgency and determination enfolded into these works. Just over a year ago NKO suffered a brain injury in a bike accident. While past work , as explained by the artist, was about forgetting, this work is more about remembering and exploring what endures, if only a little longer, than the present. The artist deliberately records this stream of consciousness on impermanent materials, cardboard and reclaimed papers, the decay of which is the true support of these works made up of layers of calligraphy obscured by paint, written over with another rush of words, then in a thoroughly unexpected move – gilded. Rough patches of gold leaf or words written in gold transform the works from simple recordings of a man’s progress from injury to recovery into sacred icons of the transitory nature of life.

A Visit to the Seattle Asian Art Museum

The object is an object for the subject,

The subject is the subject for the object:

Know that the relativity of the two

Rests ultimately on one emptiness.

How does one choose a group of works of art to write about? Should they have the same subject? Should they be created from the same material? What attracts the viewer to look more closely? What allows a viewer to really see a work of art? In researching the work I decided to write about, I came across the above quote elegantly stating the awareness I felt while getting to know the chosen works.

Early on in a quick perusal of the Seattle Asian Art Museum to get my bearings and decide what artwork to write about, my eye fell on what appeared to be little chunk of a tree branch, about six inches long, sitting in an expanse of white display cabinet. It seemed out of place, almost accidental, as though the gardener absent-mindedly left it there after pruning the trees in the museum garden. Investigating, I discovered that it was actually a functional ceramic piece, made in the late 17-18th century CE of red-brown stoneware, in the form of a plum tree branch. Entitled Yixing Ware Water Coupe, it served as a combination brush holder and water dropper for the desk of Continue reading