A cockroach normally lives no longer than 200 days. Within this lifespan they move through the phases of egg, nymph, and adult. They are social creatures, living in large groups that display both collective decision making and societal collaboration, some even exhibit a form of parental care. When left alone, they withdraw, they seek shelter, move, and eat less. Are they lonely?
Jacky Jaan-Yuan Kuo’s exhibition at BO traces human environments, reimagined from the cockroach’s point of view. Following this thread, Cockroach Chronicles opens up for questions on urbanism, class, family structures, and religious practices – illustrating how these systems intertwine and resonate within individual experiences.
With its high humidity and subtropical climate, Taipei holds the perfect conditions for cockroaches. In fact, the island of Taiwan houses 75 different species, five of which are associated with human habitats. American and Australian roaches thrive in urban areas, while German and Asian roaches dominate homes. The names of the various cockroaches would have you believe that Taipei is not only an international city for humans, but also for roaches.
As with most pests, the density of cockroaches first and foremost indicates a density of humans, and Taipei is the 40th most populous urban area in the world. Non-surprisingly, this makes the city expensive. Mirroring the class distinctions of the metropole, an image of Taipei’s skyline will show glossy skyscrapers juxtaposed with illegal metal rooftop additions as a chaotic mix. By the authorities these metal sheet structures are seen as a health hazard, as well as a hindrance for urban development. However, removing them has proved to be difficult as the residents in these dwellings consider them as private property. They are extensions of their living spaces, and the lingering traces of both their familial and national history.
At BO, Kuo’s exhibition in many ways both starts and ends in the basement. Placed below the exhibition venue, this space imitates the perspective of the cockroach as a creature that moves close to, but often on the side of, our environments. Through the eyes of this outsider perspective, the audience is asked to observe, but also question the various physical and representational structures laid before us as we move through space upstairs.
Upon entering the major exhibition space, one physically steps into a deconstructed and limited realm, reminiscent of a rooftop terrace. The surrounding blue sky wallpaper suggests that we are not at floor level, but rather have ascended to the top of the city, where we are granted an overview of our surroundings. Various, smaller objects give away that this is a private space. Lives are being played out between these walls.
Moving to the next two rooms, the audience is faced with a wall-hung sculpture resembling a canopy awning, creating the sensation of transcending from a semi-indoor space to the outdoors. The sculpture extends between the two rooms, suggesting an alternative spatial perspective. Shifting the gaze upward while making our way to the next room, we can observe the vague shape of various fruits and religious objects. These recognizable forms leave the impression of seeing something that we cannot really see – like a ghost, or a systematic structure. It is real and not real all at once, making it a question of beliefs, and ultimately also choice. Do we trust what we think we see?
This spiritual element is further enhanced in the inner space. We here find ourselves faced with a series of bed frame-like shelves, inspired by household altars, where the sacred meets the down-towned nature of an everyday home. Tracing our path through the exhibition, from the outside terrace to the innermost altar, Kuo’s play with the blurred lines between the notions of public and private becomes disclosing – not only are the structures of home, family, religion, politics, and capital interlinked, they are deeply co-dependent.
These multiple layers of community are further connected through a series of wheeled vessels positioned around the exhibition. These vessels symbolize joss paper burners—traditionally used to burn spirit money as to bridge the living with the afterlife. The act of burning pushes them out of the domestic space, further blurring the boundary between home and the public sphere.
Cockroach Chronicles is an invitation to reflect on how public spaces reveal what happens in the privacy of our homes, and vice versa; how our familial and spiritual units are shaped by societal interest. What at first sight might strike as a contradictory chaos, is mixed together and then restructured to draw up an image that encourages the audience to reflect upon how we live, and what we believe in.
Both on the other side, and in the middle of this is the cockroach; the unwelcome guest, that simultaneously acts as the reminder of the inescapability of it all. No matter how many forms of control and layers of protection we apply to ourselves and our surroundings, the cockroach will always find its way into our homes.
The exhibition essay is written by BO’s director Una Mathiesen Gjerde.
Jacky Jaan-Yuan Kuo (b. 1994, Taiwan) is an artist based between Oslo and Taipei, working with site-responsive installations, sculptures, sound, and collaborative storytelling. His practice traces familial narratives, collected memories, and urban encounters as echoes of adaptation and displacement.
Kuo holds a BFA in Applied Arts from Fu Jen Catholic University and an MFA in Fine Art from the Oslo National Academy of the Arts. His work has been exhibited at Tenthaus (NO), Oslo Kunstforening (NO), 413 BETA (KR), SS Space Space (TW), Norsk Billedhoggerforening (NO), and BO, The Association of Visual Artists Oslo (NO). He has also participated in residencies at Podium (NO), Kunstnernes Hus (NO), and Pier-2 Art Center (TW).
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The artist extends heartfelt gratitude to Iben Erik Bødtker-Næss for production and technical support; Lin Junye for consultancy and textual dialogues on project development; Lucas Vallejo for textile assistance; Wei Ting Tseng/Zeng for on-site sound recording and editing; Joanna Chia-Yu Lin, Solveig Ylva Dagsdottir, and Eli Mai Huang Nesse for practical support; Kim Hankyul for metalwork commissions; and Tor Simen Ulstein/Kunstdok for photo documentation.
The artist also wishes to express sincere appreciation to Director Una Mathiesen Gjerde, Gallery Coordinator Mathea Milkovic Saric, and their collaborative visual designer Karianne Skrettingland at BO (The Association of Visual Artists Oslo) for their invaluable support.
This exhibition is generously supported by Oslo kommune and Kulturdirektoratet.
