2026
Cotton canvas, embroidery floss, wood, glue
76 x 36 in., canvas; 7 ½ x 7 ¾ in., label
Installation dimensions variable
This piece redocuments a photograph of an artwork, a performance/speech act
entitled Aveugle Voix (1975) by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha. In other words, it
documents documentation – an echo of an echo (or of Echo). I first learned of
Cha’s work when writing about Antigone for my master’s thesis, which cites Cha’s
novel/memoir Dictee, which among other things cites Greek mythology. I was
then, and remain today, drawn to expressions of women/femme agency despite
efforts to silence them/us, speech that persists despite law, custom, violence, or
norms that insist it should not. That tension is central to Antigone’s experiences
and to Cha’s practice, which I honor in Echo/Ηχώ, along with Cha’s references
to Greek mythology and the evergreen question it poses: who is permitted to speak,
and at what cost?1
The phrase “me fail words” sits at the center of this redocumentation as both injury
and origin, cause and consequence. Its “incorrect” syntax registers as a fracture, a
refusal. In Cha’s work, failure reflects historically and structurally enforced limits
placed on what can be said, in what language, by whom, and with what legitimacy.
“Me fail words” names the moment when language struggles under the weight of
what it carries—displacement, grief, state violence, erasure—as well as also the
moment when that struggle becomes visible as evidence. The failure is both record
and assertion.
Today we live within competing regimes of truth: a constant stream of testimony
and counter-testimony, footage and denial, and narratives shaped by algorithms,
“moderation policies” and censorship, legal threats, and rhetorical policing. “Me fail
words” resonates here as the sound of public speech under surveillance. It is also
The exhaustion of language in the face of repeated catastrophe, when speech
becomes sheer persistence.
As an artist with a 30-year parallel track of work as a curator, I am also troubling
the conventions, authority, and hierarchies of museum display and academic
citation. Redocumenting is a way to reveal mediation rather than hide it—to show
how institutions wash uncertainty into certainty, how labels stabilize what is
contested, how citation can function as a gatekeeping apparatus that decides what
counts as knowledge. Echo/Ηχώ, in this context, becomes a refusal of institutional
fluency as the only legitimate mode of address. It insists that broken language,
partial language, translated language, and silenced language are not marginal to
life—they are often where it is most truthful.