Tang Contemporary Art feels like entering an alien landing zone. In the dimly lit room devoid of furniture or decoration stand a sparse collection of life-sized beings: female, hairless and naked. This is Naked Beyond Skin an intriguing touring exhibition of the Shanghai-based, female sculptress Xiang Jing. Even with the deluge of contemporary Chinese art in Hong Kong, this presentation will spark debate with its haunting subject matter.

Xiang creates life-sized female forms, exquisitely crafted from fiberglass and sculpted, sanded, polished and painted. The skin is transparent, humid and glowing with life, with minute details bringing the women an uncanny realism.  They are flawed, their shoulders are slumped and they stand in alienating and isolated poses. Without hair, clothes or identities they present a paradox: we can get intimately close to these women, yet they remain at a psychological distance from us. Here is an artist who knows the impact of the environment and uses that well; the sparse, industrial space adds context to her work. The Center of Quietude shows a young woman standing before a sleeping dog; her eyes are closed as she masturbates. There is no expression on her face and no sense of eroticism as she stands bleakly engaged in the act. Exhibitions abound in Hong Kong but few force the viewer to interact so immediately, with no time to ponder. Intriguing or disturbing, one decides on the spot. And surely that’s what great art does: it causes an immediate reaction.

Are a Hundred Playing You? Or Only One? is a collection of seven sculptures sitting around a tub as if washing their feet. A blue pelican stands nearby observing the humans. Despite huddling in a group, the women sit slumped in their own worlds and none of their eyes meet. It is a postmodern, collective isolation, suggesting the essentially lonely fate of human existence.

Tang Contemporary has made a positive impact in Hong Kong with this inspired opening exhibition refreshingly focused on the art, and not just on making a pretty gallery.

Clare Morin