Betsy Kwong

 the art of memory in elah wong tsoi wai’s paintings

By Betsy Kwong | March 2, 2026

In the summer of 2025, Hong Kong-based artist Elah Wong Tsoi Wai showcased 18 pieces of her work at Gallery EXIT. This is her first solo exhibition since she graduated with a Bachelor of Arts (Hons) in Visual Arts from Hong Kong Baptist University. While a majority of her work from this recent collection explores the dynamic movements of the body and the orientation of subspaces within her canvases, I am drawn to her paintings that consist of a static, frozen-in-time composition that looks as though the artist has simply left it unfinished. These works evoke an impressionist style of fragmentation, undermined by the quiet nostalgia of faded memories.

            “Memories,” as Kazuo Ishiguro writes in his novel Never Let Me Go, “fade surprisingly quickly. But…the memories I value most, I don’t ever see them fading.” This idea of memory being a subjective and emotional condition speaks to the biases and affinities encoded in the human mind. Instead of defining memory as merely the pragmatic utility of the brain to store information (as is common in the sciences), Wong’s works invite us to consider memory as a form of art. Her 2024 painting To (xxx), for instance, depicts an elderly couple turned away from its spectator. They appear to be nameless, faceless, and directionless, which correspond to the exhibition’s theme of “unknown.” The patchwork of brushstrokes and the layering of textures and techniques from silk and acrylic paint in the work illustrate an impression of everyday life that deviates from traditional representations that are focused on realism. By harnessing a sense of selective forgetfulness, this reimagination of memory as art plays with reality and fiction and attests to why certain creative works have survived the test of time, despite our unreliable and faded memories.

To (xxx). Silk and acrylic on canvas. 2024.

            The seemingly incomplete composition in To (xxx) is the artist’s deliberate stylistic choice to foreground a sentiment that memories may fade but the emotions attached to it will not. This atmospheric depiction of the human psyche reminds me of another Ishiguro novel called The Buried Giant, which is a literary magical realist tale about an elderly couple’s journey through the vast empty lands of England during the Dark Ages and the mysterious mist that covers the whole country and causes mass cases of amnesia. In forgetting personal history, we risk losing collective memory. Wong’s painting illustrates an understanding of memory as a human and cultural experience governed and maintained by our emotional attachments. The layering of paint and textures foregrounds a material dimension in the art of memory. This technique juxtaposes and overlaps the known and unknown in the subspaces of a canvas to make room for diverse imagination and observation. As the title suggests, To (xxx) is the artist’s homage to the impressionists’ ideologies—refusing to name something to avoid making it “known” and rejecting established styles to express modern life authentically.

            In an article published by the Metropolitan Museum of Art titled “Impressionism: Art and Modernity,” Margaret Samu contends that the impressionist technique, which is pioneered by a group of French artists in the late nineteenth century, challenges traditional academic painting by using a “seemingly casual style” to produce a “new language with which to depict modern life.”  In Moon River (2025), which is one of Wong’s latest works, she builds on the impressionist art movement by stripping away the details of the composition to draw attention to two focal points: a person on a boat and dot(s) that symbolize(s) the moon. The mystic ambience created with simplified forms by the artist resembles Claude Monet’s Impression, Sunrise (1874). However, instead of capturing fleeting moments in real-life like Monet, Wong’s near-abstract painting offers an ambiguity in the composition. While the conspicuous blue dot close to the center of the painting seems like a purposeful placement of the moon, the more obscure white dot at the top left corner of the canvas questions the tension between reality and memory. Which dot is the ‘real’ moon? This ambiguity sparks a playful conversation between a young, emerging artist from Hong Kong and the old masters from France, which embodies the principles of the art of memory and its cultivation.

            Echoing the faceless subjects in To (xxx), Wong contemporizes the contemplation of the quotidian, which is characteristic of impressionism, by painting a textured and weathered background in Moon River to compel more attention to its subjects. The swath of rustic pink acrylic paint on the canvas brings the subjects of the work to the foreground, which adds to the conception of faded memories with an undertone of yearning. In Contemporary Art and Memory: Images of Recollection and Remembrance, Joan Gibbons argues that memory is “both a form of knowledge and an agent of imagination.” The romanticization of memory in Wong’s painting contradicts and intersects aesthetically and viscerally to illustrate the constitution of the art of memory as partially constructed.

Moon River. Acrylic on canvas. 2025.

            While the traces of impressionist ideology are evident in Wong’s work, the two paintings I have discussed here show that the artist has taken creative liberty to redefine impressionism with the use of bold colors and more abstract forms. This conversation between a generation z artist trained in a local institute (presumably with knowledge of classic techniques, styles, and their history) and the impressionists who originated from a time when they were considered radical and the avant-garde, Elah Wong Tsoi Wai’s works have local and universal appeal (both works have already sold). In portraying the “absurdity of the modern world,” as noted in her artist statement, Wong’s paintings suggest that memories fade to make room for new ones to intermingle and take root. Contemporary art reflects cultural and societal norms and fears of the present, but it is also an intertextual and historical genre. Playing with juxtapositions and tensions between the old and new is at the core of the art of memory.

 Redefining Asian Neo-Surrealism in Dominique Fung’s Artworks

By Betsy Kwong | March 2, 2026

Presented by contemporary art gallery Massimo de Carlo during Hong Kong Art Week in March 2025, Dominique Fung’s inaugural solo exhibition “Beneath the Golden Canopy” featured a range of creative expressions. From an oil on canvas diptych titled Yellow Silk Screen (2025), which measured at 320 centimeters wide, to mixed media pieces, such as Found Tang Horse Heads (2024-5), which comprised of a small-scale oil on canvas painting embedded in an antique jewelry box that the artist had sourced from auctions, Fung’s body of work is not only a historical reference to the lavish lifestyle of Cixi, the Empress Dowager of China during the Qing dynasty, but also a pioneer of Asian Neo-Surrealist forms and motifs in the contemporary art scene.

            Dominique Fung (b. 1987) is a second-generation Chinese-Canadian artist, who currently lives in Brooklyn, New York. In her interview with Harriet Llyod-Smith in Plaster Magazine published on 14 January 2025, Fung revealed that though she has roots in Hong Kong and Shanghai, she had felt she may have been “othering” her “own culture.” This sense of diaspora inspired her creation of artwork that had often featured “fantastical dreamscapes filled with eerie transformations and fleshy, feminine contortions.” While the artist had rejected the connotations associated with the canons of Surrealism and the uncanny in her interview with Prestige Magazine on 20 March 2025, I believe there is credit in revisiting these traditions and vernaculars to foreground and redefine power, femininity, and aesthetics in the modern-day era through a transcultural and transdisciplinary perspective. 

            In the book Surrealism from Paris to Shanghai (2024), Lauren Walden considers Surrealism as an anti-colonialist art movement that began in Paris, France in the 1920s. According to Walden, the establishment of the French Concession in Shanghai in 1849 (as a result of the Opium Wars in 1842) nurtured a group of Parisian Surrealists who “were notorious for their subversion of the French state.” However, Cixi’s involvement with the Boxer Movement in the late Qing dynasty gave rise to her “dragon lady” image. Similar to New Yorker cartoons that are satirical and often political, a caricature of Cixi created by French artist Charles Lucien Léandre and published on the cover of the French magazine Le Rire (1900) reinforces the western patriarchy’s agenda to demonize Asian women in power. Dominique Fung’s Asian Neo-Surrealist paintings subvert these European imperialist ideologies while offering a transcultural take on eastern traditions.

Duality of Villain and Victim (2025). Oil on canvas. Massimo de Carlo.

            To reflect on her transcultural experience, Fung’s haunting creative expressions and the use of dramatic lighting in her work connect cinematic composition with modern-day imagination. In Duality of Villain and Victim, which is one of the only horizontal paintings in this exhibition, I am reminded of the cult classic horror films in Hong Kong in the 1980s. In these films, stiff-limbed zombies are dressed in Qing Official robes while they don a court hat with a feather and hop around town to scare and attack humans. The umbrella-shaped headdress tinged with an eerie moss-green tone holds the dangling of horses, candles, and broken limps in some sort of nightmarish merry-go-around arrangement. The lower half of the painting is spotlighted by what the artist calls an “interior glow.” Fung uses a layering and juxtaposition of western and eastern motifs and objects to play with the notion of ornamentalism, which is “a conceptual framework” introduced by cultural theorist Anne Anlin Cheng, used “for approaching a history of racialized person-making, not through biology but through synthetic inventions and ornamentations.” The duality in this composition is an enmeshment of innocence, horror, and disillusionment, which foregrounds the sentiments of a transcultural lived experience with surreal representations.

            While a lot of diasporic artwork is centered around the impact of World War II and is produced prior to the Immigration Act of 1965 in the United States, the contemporary Asian art scene has since extended this legacy by claiming spaces in other discourses, such as gender inequality and Asian diaspora. Dominique Fung’s artwork challenges the assumption that Mark Dean Johnson talks about in the anthology Asian American Art: A History, 1850-1970 (2008): “the racially essentialized notion of a fixed, foreign, and even backward Asian tradition and personality.” Fung ridicules the European and patriarchal ornamental gaze of Asian femininity with her play with objects in Neo-Surrealist paintings.

            My infatuation with Dominique Fung’s haunting works extends far earlier than her recent solo exhibition in Hong Kong, tracing back to my encounter with her piece Sans Les Mains (2022) at the Huntington Library in summer 2024. The title, which means “without hands” in French, captures Fung’s transcultural critique and otherworldly creative expression. Drawing from her Canadian and Chinese heritage, Fung has cultivated a distinctive Asian Neo-Surrealist aesthetics that haunts, provokes, dazzles, and demands attention from her viewers. As she has stated in her interview with Plaster, “[m]y viewpoint is feminist, as an Asian woman operating in this world.” From her first group exhibition in Toronto in 2011 to her upcoming appearance at Frieze Seoul in September 2025, Fung’s artistic evolution has been remarkable to witness. I await with pleasure to see what strange and beautiful monstrosities she will conjure next.