How Jes Fan does the Phenomenology of Bodies in continuous evolution in Andrew Kreps

Courtesy of the artist and Andrew Kreps Gallery.‘>

Working at the intersection of biology and identity, New York and Hong Kong-based artist Jes Fan has been questioning the penetration of boundaries between bodies and entities. While investigating systems of relationships and interdependence, fans challenge viewers to rethink the porous membrane that separates us from the world. These great titles take center stage in the latest fan show at the 55 Walker space jointly operated by Andrew Kreps (artist representative), kaufmann repetto and Bortolami. Earlier this month, the Observer sat down with the Fan to discuss his use of experimental materials to test and prove the ideas of fluid intercorporeality and interspecies similarity.

Entitled “Grounds of Injury: Interchapter,” the exhibition boldly enters the limited spaces between corporeal and architectural membranes, exploring the communication networks that flow through biological and social systems. Fan-imagined staging and multimedia interventions create important metaphors for the filters, surfaces and membranes that shape our interactions with the world. These soft structures explore identity, biology and nature, inviting viewers to confront the changing ways we relate to other people and the environment we live in.

With this show, the fan has put together a phenomenology of bodies that includes many amazing and mixed looks. His work looks at how physical entities are experienced, perceived and understood, treating the body as both subject and object of experience. He transcends identifications based on culture, race and even species, presenting the body as an integral part of a fluid ecosystem—a player in a never-ending cycle of exchange that sustains life while constantly forcing new changes and adaptations.

A stunning installation greets us as we enter the space: a pool of boiling soy milk serves as a home-made visceral endoscopy video projection. As the milk wraps around the skin-like membrane, this fascinating piece offers a sensual encounter, turning the body inside out to visualize the liquid flesh, revealing it as a place of constant change inhabited by a multitude of other tiny creatures. The membrane of dry soy milk is a delicate barrier that simultaneously invites penetration and produces resistance and protection, setting the tone for the tension and ambiguity of what is to come. The gallery becomes a laboratory of excavation and experimentation, where materials are tested for their ability to combine, repel or absorb other materials, creating a symbolic exploration of the physical and psychological processes that shape human interaction with the world.

In the first room, Fan presents a series of sculptural works inspired by Hong Kong’s native Agarwood trees. The artist is fascinated by how these trees respond to stress and trauma—they produce a sweet-smelling resin that strengthens wounds as part of their healing process. This resin results in a complex surface structure, which transforms the scars of the trees into amazing patterns that combine both damage and endurance. The fan demonstrates this process in his work, which combines 3D printing and CT scans of his muscles, drawing poignant parallels between plants and human responses to wounds. These subtle patterns echo the body’s ability to heal, building new structures over scars and trauma. This series expands on themes that Fan first explored at the Whitney Biennial, examining the permeability of bodies and the instability of identity. In his view, sites of injury become dynamic sites for exploring resilience—places where trauma is entered, transformed and ultimately marked as part of an ongoing healing cycle.

In the same room, the body image of Fan’s partner appears as an oddly shaped part carved into the wall, its surface transformed into something plastic, soft and fluid—ready to adapt and accept the outside world. “I put it in the entryway, so that visitors have the idea that they are entering the membrane and encountering what someone else has left behind,” Fan told the Observer. Here, the artist reenters the phenomenology of the body—not only existing in space but inhabiting it dynamically, deriving meaning, and evolving through its contextual interactions. The interior is inhabited by sculptures of blown glass, placed inside such as the presence of parasitic or osmotic organs, which meet in the examination of the installation of penetration and change.

Fan work resists simple metaphors, instead operating in the realm of tactile and auditory sensibility. “It is not to refer to something, but to like the feeling,” said Fan. “They evoke something fluid, a sense of flux or change, on the cusp of change and change.” This sense of flexibility extends to the site-specific wall installation, which the fan describes as an attempt to “think of the construction site as impenetrable.”

The first room seems to live an almost obsessive desire to eliminate the boundary between the external body and its internal spaces. Fan research goes beyond the human, examining intraspecies relationships and the physical characteristics seen between humans and other organisms. “I definitely see sculpture as a way of thinking about materials,” explains Fan, describing his practice as an investigation into the ways in which everything is in a state of transition.

As we enter the next room, the narrative changes, taking on a more sinister tone. Corroded metal structures suspend viscous veils of an unknown substance, eerily similar to melted or melted human skin. These veils, already yellowing as if in the process of decay or extermination, evoke a disturbing connection to the racialization of Asian skin and the weight of historical racism. The geometry of the supporting structures—the rigid scaffolding that fails to contain these fluid, moving forms—represents the limits of language. Here, the Follower subtly criticizes the way systems of symbols and meanings attempt to impose order on a reality that refuses to conform, a reality that is constantly shifting and changing. Overall, the artist’s work in this room incorporates the formless, shedding the illusion of control in favor of chaotic fluidity. It is a dedication to the productive possibilities of instability and change, a defiant rejection of the idea that anything—bodies, identities or organisms—can be neatly organized.

Continuing his approach to “composing” objects and their structures, Jes Fan’s works in the second room are the culmination of an endless exploration of soy milk and its derivatives. The “skins” drawn from the rusted metal structures are re-formed from condensed soy milk, dried and treated by the artist to achieve a strong, leather-like texture. Echoing the work at the door, these hanging forms evoke the act of shedding and adapting—a never-ending cycle of change and living in response to new environments. Steel structures, at the same time limiting and supporting, create a physical tension between weakness and strength. They hold these epidermal layers, providing both physical and symbolic space within the space.

Scattered on the ground, Fan placed the encapsulated soybeans, which were artificially separated from their natural biological cycle. These isolated forms suggest impenetrability and solidity, yet their solidity is the result of a powerful illusion. As Mlaneli explained, soybeans have undergone thousands of adaptations, evolving to withstand threats—but this resilience comes at a cost. Intensive anthropogenic intervention has accelerated its adaptation, fundamentally disrupting its original biological context. Capsules, closed and inactive, prevent soybeans from participating in any liquid or environmental change, which leaves them stuck in a state of artificial stasis. “It is no longer just a living thing; a machine,” commented a fan, pointing to how integrated technology has transformed these living organisms.

A collection of paintings that further explore the parallels between the arboreal and the human body round out the exhibition. The delicate fibers of roots and wood burls trace patterns similar to the arterial system, suggesting a network of connections that connects all living things. These paintings evoke an ongoing, interdependent exchange—a complex dance essential to survival.

Through this exhibition, artist Jes Fan’s experimental approach to material discovery reveals a deep connection between the properties and behavior of natural and artificial membranes. By exposing these parallels, he investigates the mediating and relational systems that have evolved—systems that often disrupt the organic, osmotic relationships between entities. Expanding his exploration of the relationship between the human body and other living things, Fan broadened the scope of his artistic and philosophical inquiry. His works encourage a shift from individual experience to a perception of diversity, nature and ethics, inviting viewers to rethink their place in a larger, interconnected ecosystem.

“Sites of Wounding: Interchapter” by Jes Fan is on view at Andrew Kreps at 55 Walker in New York until December 21.