out of isolation: artists respond to covid-19 Trevor Yeung

As the world continues to grapple with the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic, many unique tensions, fears and doubts about the future have arisen. out of isolation: artists respond to covid-19 brings together artists' creative, critical and personal responses on the significance of the pandemic to their respective localities and contexts—what kinds of inequalities and injustices have the crisis laid bare, and what changes does the world need? If the origin of the virus is bound in an ecological web, what forms of climate action and mutual aid are necessary, now more than ever? Written as the crisis plays out before us, the series aims to spark conversation about how we might move forward from here. 

Here, artist Trevor Yeung (b. 1988, China) shares a visual diary of 2020, giving us an intimate glimpse of his experiences while inviting us to take stock of our year. His practice consistently excavates the inner logics of closed systems and the way in which such systems contain and create emotional and behavioural conditions. In his mixed-media works, carefully staged objects, animals, and plants function as aesthetic pretexts which delicately and ironically address notions of artificiality and the processes of human relations.

All images in this article courtesy of Trevor Yeung.

Jan 2020
I arrived in Singapore to begin my three-month residency. After two weeks, I flew back home to Hong Kong for three days for Chinese New Year. I struggled a bit after returning to Singapore as I was worried that I had been infected with Covid-19 while on my trip home and might spread the virus to my friends in Singapore. For a period of time, I constantly wore a mask and kept my distance from them.

Feb 2020
Everyday, I watched news from Hong Kong about the pandemic. I felt quite lucky to be in Singapore because the situation here seemed better, including my living conditions. But I felt differently when I saw that all the toilet paper in FairPrice was sold out, just like in Hong Kong.

Mar 2020
The pandemic didn’t stop me from embarking on my research trip to Thailand. I had originally planned to go to Borneo, but changed my mind as there was not much news about how the pandemic was unfolding in that region. In Bangkok, I stayed in a hotel slightly out of the city centre. There were many young Chinese visitors staying there. Later on, I realised they might be overseas students who were self-quarantining for 14-days—this would allow them to enter Australia by circumventing the travel ban on Chinese travellers.

Apr 2020
Flight schedules were changing all the time, but I was fortunate enough to get a flight back to Hong Kong. I flew with a decent protection. I didn’t need to undergo any testing or stay in a quarantine camp when I arrived in Hong Kong. I just needed to stay in my small bedroom for 14 days with a wristband that served as quarantine tracker. It was not too difficult, and I didn’t even finish the to-do list I had drawn up.

May 2020
Since the likelihood of travelling was low, I decided to start a project on aquariums that I had been thinking about for a few years. It required me to go to my studio every day to feed the fish. Time went faster when I looked at the aquarium.

Jun 2020
I spent more time in my studio this summer. My studio was so hot that I had to hide in the shady areas of my room. My plants loved the weather. The buildings opposite were designated as quarantine camps, and I looked at them every day.

Jul 2020
I tried to learn French, but eventually failed and gave up.

Aug 2020
On an evening out in Wan Chai, I found out just how dark Hong Kong had become. 

Sep 2020
I turned the ashes of my pet into a necklace so that I could bring it along when I travelled. Travelling with my pet was impossible when it was still alive, and maybe I saw this act as a form of compensation.

Oct 2020
It is common to have plastic dividers separating tables in restaurants now. At this particular restaurant, located in an industrial area, there are different slogans written on the plastic dividers. I pick the most relatable one to sit next to. It reads “hitting rock bottom.”

Nov 2020
I sat on the stairs next to the Hong Kong Cultural Centre and the Hong Kong Museum of Art. I head there once every few years. This time, it is the quietest it has ever been, but it is not a bad feeling at all. 

Dec 2020
I stage a private exhibition in an apartment in Kowloon titled there’s something missing. It summarises everything I’ve wanted to say the past two years, and is the best and most effective way for me to end off 2020.