Trevor Yeung's exhibition at M+ last summer, an extension of his solo presentation at the 2024 Venice Biennale, Trevor Yeung: Courtyard of Attachments, Hong Kong in Venice, reveals an interplay between personal narrative and collective memory. Through a series of installations, Yeung delves into themes of attachment and absence, ultimately exploring the concept of detachment.

Unlike the temporary exhibition at the Venice Biennale, this display at Hong Kong’s global museum of contemporary visual culture focuses on historical and archival research. As Trevor Yeung and curator Oliva Chow note, from a museological standpoint, when artifacts are acquired by museums for preservation, they lose their original functions and transform into static monuments of past lives. Visitors could reflect on the changing roles of these objects and their connections to memory and history.^[1]

Detachment, as discussed in Erich Fromm’s The Art of Loving, is the root of guilt and anxiety. In his artistic practice, Trevor Yeung frequently utilises plants and goldfish, which are accessible means of attachment and basic relationships through feeding and changing water. Fromm asserts that "the awareness of human separation, without reunion by love, is the source of shame,"^[2] highlighting how this sense of detachment can lead to profound emotional struggles. This awareness of detachment often expresses as shame, guilt, and anxiety, leading many individuals to conform to group norms, a tendency particularly in Asian societies.

In Yeung’s fishless aquatic exhibition, the focus shifts to the microsystems that sustain life. Instead of replicating his previous artwork, he conveys the passage of time through objects and living creatures, constructing relationships and communities. This return to Hong Kong, a city in constant flux, underscores the theme of displacement.

Upon entering the exhibition space, visitors experience a departure from the typical white cube space. Bamboo-finished walls adorned with blue and purple lighting set the atmosphere. The first sensory encounter is the mechanical whistling sound and the scent of filtered air, evoking memories of Goldfish Street. To the left, it is Two Unwanted Lovers (Time Out), a brightly lit fish tank that captures attention, revealing accumulated sediment and minerals over time. This setup communicates a poignant message: an abandoned fish shop devoid of fish and water, yet filled with the mirror reflections of visitors searching for something. Is it merely fish? The answer remains elusive.

As visitors progress along the corridor, 74 aquariums are arranged in new configurations across two gallery rooms. A wall of distorting mirrors on the right transforms images as people walk by, creating dynamic interactions. Observing others in front of these mirrors, it becomes clear that each distorted reflection resembles a fish tank; visitors seem to swim within the frames, confronted by their own altered images. The intensifying purple light and vibrating sounds evoke feelings of isolation, displacing familiar memories for many Hong Kong residents, especially those who recall walking along Goldfish Street.

The repetitive aquariums create three walls, forming a separate space. In Cave of Avoidance (Not Really), the landscape of fishless, waterless tanks reveals dry water marks, powdery minerals, and plastic algae. This prompts reflection not only on the act of observing “fish,” but also on the survival of these creatures. Each fish tank embodies a social system, contributing to a larger universe of interconnected life.

The only area inaccessible to visitors is a corner formed by two aquarium walls, blocked off with a blue plastic chain. Inside are Little Comfy Tornado (After Typhoon) and the photographic work Couple in Bubbles. Viewers can only observe these pieces from a distance or peer through the gaps between the aquariums. In the Venice exhibition, Little Comfy Tornado featured a miniature tornado whirling inside a small fish tank atop a tower of stacked plant stools, connected to a professional-grade filtration system by a network of tubing. The juxtaposition of the modest aquarium with its complex support evokes a sense of unease.

In the recent exhibition, however, the piece appears broken, shattered glass covers the floor, and the tornado is no longer visible, though traces of it remain. I could not help but wonder about the purpose of artwork that is broken or burned, as if it seeks to embody violence physically. Does such destruction serve as a critique of power dynamics, or does it merely reflect a fascination with chaos? The framing of absence within Little Comfy Tornado creates an atmosphere of vague menace, transforming the installation into a fragile, distanced experience. It reflects on how the desire for care and control can devolve into oppression, culminating in an explosion of emotions.

Scattered throughout the exhibition space are Night Mushroom Colon (Fish Tank Corner) and Night Mushroom in shade (Teak Cabinet), which not only expand within the fish tanks but also hide behind Little Comfy Tornado. These small clusters of electric night lamps emerge from the shadows, attracting visitors like moths. These mushrooms are much like vines, extending freely into the cracks of space, with the audience unaware of their beginning or end. Composed of multiple transformers, these mushrooms build their own interconnected system.

At the end of the room, the installation Gate of Instant Love accompanied by the photographic work, stealth that doesn’t hurt/the scratch that doesn’t help exhibited in the middle. The image depicts a broken and used plastic bag that once held water and fish, but now, fishless and containing only water, hangs with an S hook on the Gate. When the gate was exhibited in Venice, it was a brilliant idea to use it at the exit, visitors literally walking through the installation to get into the exhibition space—the fish shop. In the setting of M+, it was exhibited in front of the plain wall with the photograph work in the entrance. I feel as though I am in a restrained version of a pet shop display, with only a few empty bags and S-hooks. I do not have many choices; in fact, I have no way to go but looking at the couple of empty plastic bags, and the broken one in the photograph. The opposite approach leaves the exhibition ending empty-handed and minded instead of excitement about bringing home new pet fish.

This contemplation resonates with Erich Fromm's observations about modern alienation. ^[6]He describes individuals as "automatons," detached from themselves, others, and nature, which hampers our ability to love fully. Both love for humans and for the natural world arises from a sense of separation, seeking transcendence through non-egoistic interdependence. For Fromm, the capacity to love—regardless of whether the object of that love is human, plant, or animal—is essential for psychological flourishing^[7]. Yeung’s work encapsulates these ideas, inviting viewers to confront their connections to both the living and non-living aspects of their environments, ultimately urging a deeper understanding of attachment and interdependence in our lives.

The Fragility of Existence

Under the blue and purple light, reflecting on myself, I wondered about being water—whether as droplets clinging to the edges of a fish tank, dried marks on a fountain, or even a drop of saliva from visitors. The countless forms of water are enchanting: elusive and hard to grasp, yet always present in our lives. This duality embodies both attachment and detachment, echoing the complexities of human desire and connection. Trevor Yeung specifically focuses on the fluidity of water, illustrating how it weaves through and builds communities, connecting relationships. Water carries local DNA and minerals, subtly influencing the functioning of ecosystems. Tiny minerals within water can grow and extend unexpectedly, like vines, creating their own zones of interaction. This fluidity symbolises the intimacy of relationships, which exist for reasons both intricate and deeply rooted in our histories and childhoods.

In this context, the goldfish in Trevor Yeung's work can also be viewed as a metaphor for the inhabitants of Hong Kong—vibrant yet constrained by societal pressures. Goldfish, originally domesticated from wild carp species and bred for beauty and decoration in Asian culture, highlight the superficiality of our attempts to connect with nature. However, as an invasive species, they should not be released into the wild, as they can harm native fish populations. Their feeding habits disrupt sediment by scooting along the bottom of water bodies, stirring up dirt and negatively impacting the ecosystem^[8]. The glass fish tanks, filtered water, and LED lights create a curated environment that mimics nature but lacks authenticity, reflecting a desire for closeness that remains ultimately unfulfilled. I believe Yeung’s exhibition encourages visitors to consider ones own experiences of confinement and desire, drawing parallels between the memories of the fish tank and the complexities of human relationships in a fragile, constrained city.

After seeing Yeung's exhibition, one thought came to mind: is the greatest difference between goldfish and humans our ability to influence and sync the happiness of others? We navigate a complex framework that dictates our interactions, allowing us to connect, empathise, and respond to the emotions of those around us. This capacity for agency stems from our curiosity and ability to reflect on our existence, prompting us to seek understanding not just of ourselves, but of the emotions and experiences of others. In "Where Did the Water Go?" Olivia Chow, curator of Trevor Yeung's exhibition "Courtyard of Detachment," ^[9] explores this curiosity through the long study of fish species, microorganisms, and aquaculture care. Trevor draws a parallel to the "Joy of Fish" dialogue between Zhuangzi and Huizi. In this fourth-century BCE exchange, Zhuangzi observes swimming fish and declares them happy, while Huizi counters that Zhuangzi, not being a fish, cannot truly know their happiness. Zhuangzi retorts that since Huizi is not Zhuangzi, he cannot know if Zhuangzi knows about the fish's happiness. This interaction illustrates the limits of rational inquiry and underscores our inherent curiosity about the inner lives of other beings.

Logically, it remains impossible to know another being's happiness. Yet, this very curiosity drives us to connect through shared experiences, open communication, empathy, and mutual respect. It is this quest for understanding that enriches our relationships and enhances our communal existence. Ultimately, we all face the same fate: lying in a bed of tubes, as depicted in Yeung’s Little Comfy Tornado, until our bodies can no longer sustain life. In this cycle, we become part of history, merging with the original water and extending the life of the fish tank.

^[1] Erich Fromm, The Art of Loving (1956), accessed September 2023, https://lohiatoday.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/theartofloving.pdf.

^[2] Erich Fromm, The Art of Loving (1956), accessed September 2023, https://lohiatoday.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/theartofloving.pdf.

^[3] "Empty aquariums, silent fountains: Trevor Yeung’s Venice homecoming exhibition opens Sat," The Standard, June 14, 2025, https://www.thestandard.com.hk/hong-kong-news/article/304685/Empty-aquariums-silent-fountains-Trevor-Yeungs-Venice-homecoming-exhibition-opens-Sat.

^[4] Installation view of “Trevor Yeung: Courtyard of Attachments,” 2024, Image courtesy of M+, Hong Kong.

^[5] Installation view of “Trevor Yeung: Courtyard of Detachments,” 2025, Image courtesy of M+, Hong Kong.,Athung,;entirewas a

^[6] Erich Fromm, The Art of Loving (1956), accessed September 2023, https://lohiatoday.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/theartofloving.pdf.

^[7] Julia Ludewig, "Erich Fromm’s Biophilia," NiCHE, July 6, 2023, https://niche-canada.org/2023/07/06/erich-fromms-biophilia/.

^[8] Mohr, Kylie. "Goldfish, facts and photos." National Geographic, accessed September 2023. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/fish/facts/goldfish.

^[9] "Where Did All the Water Go: Displaying Trevor Yeung’s Lived Installations in a Museum Setting," M+, June 14, 2025, https://www.mplus.org.hk/en/events/where-did-all-the-water-go-displaying-lived-installations-in-a-museum-setting/.

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Images provided by Wing Yan Ng

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“This writing was published on the platform of ACO, our media partner, which supports the programme by providing a platform for emerging local art critics to share their work.”

「此文章亦刊登於媒體夥伴艺鵠的平台。艺鵠為此計劃的本地新晉藝術評論人提供分享及發布作品的平台。」

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References

De Chavez, Jeremy C. 2015. "Reading Erich Fromm’s The Art of Loving, or Why Loving Means Giving Nothing." Kritike 17 (December): 143-160, http://www.kritike.org/journal/issue_17/de%20chavez_december2015.pdf.

Erich Fromm. 1956. The Art of Loving. New York: Harper & Row. Accessed September 2023, https://lohiatoday.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/theartofloving.pdf.

"Empty aquariums, silent fountains: Trevor Yeung’s Venice homecoming exhibition opens Sat." The Standard, June 14, 2025, https://www.thestandard.com.hk/hong-kong-news/article/304685/Empty-aquariums-silent-fountains-Trevor-Yeungs-Venice-homecoming-exhibition-opens-Sat.

"Fujiko Nakaya. Nebel Leben." Haus der Kunst Munich, April 8, 2022 - July 31, 2022, https://www.hausderkunst.de/en/eintauchen/fujiko-nakaya-nebel-leben.

"PHENOMENON 5." Press release, Kerenidis Pepe Collection, June 2024, https://kerenidispepe.art/wp/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/1_updated_PHENOMENON-5_press-release_june-2024_eng_merged.pdf.

"Trevor Yeung: Courtyard of Attachments, Hong Kong in Venice." M+, April 20, 2024, https://www.mplus.org.hk/en/exhibitions/trevor-yeung-hong-kong-in-venice/.

"Where Did All the Water Go: Displaying Trevor Yeung’s Lived Installations in a Museum Setting." M+, June 14, 2025, https://www.mplus.org.hk/en/events/where-did-all-the-water-go-displaying-lived-installations-in-a-museum-setting/.