Memory, Shadow, and the Ephemeral
A Review of After/Images by Lu Gao and Ching-Wei Wang (Way)
— By Hannah Scharmer
Black Brick Project’s exhibition After/Images, curated by Milly Cai, brought together the works of artists Lu Gao and Way. As two international artists, this was their first two-person show in New York City after participating in a series of group exhibitions.
Entering the space through its street-facing façade, the space pulls me into its narrow length, the very end of it hidden from view as it curves around to the right. This interplay between the transparent openness of the space and the surprise of something hidden, not yet revealed, at its end, is reflected in the subject and workings of the installation itself. Gao and Way’s works play with shifting visibility, layering, and partial obscurity, drawing the viewer into a process of discovery.
Moving further into the space, one immediately senses how the works of the two artists are both distinct while, both visually and conceptually, playing off of—and enhancing—the other. On the right, the viewer encounters two works that, while initially appearing distinct in both style and subject matter (as Way’s work depicts a condensed mass of people from behind while Gao’s photograph intimately captures the textured surface of water), put together in this way, suddenly appear in harmony. They thus reframe each other and form a visual dialogue, mirroring the fluidity of perception itself.
Left: Ching-Wei Wang (Way), Maintain Status Quo Indefinitely, pigment print on wood, 40 × 40 × 3/4 inches, 2024 | Right: Lu Gao, Isn’t Water, archival pigment print, frameless mounted on wood, 30 × 40 inches, 2024
Way’s works, many of which function as “afterimages” of a previous performance in which she scrubbed the surface of photographic documents from Taiwan’s 228 Incident (the February 28 Massacre of 1947) with both hands while kneeling, are displayed on the right wall. This marks the first time the artist has encountered them in this format—mounted on the wall rather than positioned on the ground. In this context, the works exist both as traces of past performance and as reflections of what Way describes as “a mental image that is present all the time to me,” evoking the persistent presence of trauma.
Ching-Wei Wang (Way), Maintain Status Quo Indefinitely, pigment print and dust on wood, 40 × 40 × 3/4 inches each panel, 2024
Stepping into the corner, one sees another interplay between Way and Gao’s works. Laboriously penciled upon the wall, Way has written “a dream within a dream within a dream within a dream…” alternating between the simplified and traditional characters for “dream”—the former used in mainland China, the latter prevalent in her homeland, Taiwan. This rhythmic repetition, both linguistic and visual, creates a hypnotic effect, blurring distinctions between cultural memory and personal reverie. Gao’s piece, pressing upwards from the ground, depicts a shadow falling over a concrete surface. As viewers move in and out of the corner, they may mistake this shadow for their own, thus oscillating between presence and illusion, a dream and real life. The viewer, already anticipated by Gao’s shadow, thus steps in and out of the space only to find that what seemed to await them has disappeared. Like Way’s endlessly receding dream within a dream, the shadow eludes fixation, dissolving the moment one turns to claim it.
Above: Ching-Wei Wang (Way), Dream within Dream, graphite on wall, dimensions variable, 2025 | Below: Lu Gao, Untitled, PhotoTex fabric mounted on wood, 20 × 30 inches, 2024
As one continues on, the collaboration becomes even more apparent as the afterimage of the two performances, conducted by both Gao and Way, still lie, traced, upon the wall and ground of the space. For this exhibit, though centered on the photographic work of these two artists, innovatively combined photography with performance through the incorporation of two live enactments. In the first, Way traced Gao’s shadow as she meditated on a rock. In the second, several weeks later, Gao, in turn, traced Way’s shadow as she stood, holding a stone upon the wall. The afterimages of these shadows, drawn with two distinctly different hands in two distinct moments in time, imbues the space with a ritualistic quality. These silent, meditative acts evoke a sense of time’s inexorable passage, offering the viewer a chance to reflect on the residue of experience and the tension between forgetting and remembering.
Lu Gao and Ching-Wei Wang (Way), Nothing Written on Water, live performance, January 15, 2025, Way traces Lu’s shadow as she meditates on a rock, 20 minutes
As Gao traced Way’s shadow upon the wall and floor of the gallery, navigating her own shadow as it concealed the one she was trying to trace, the viewer is able to observe a dance of light, body, and shadow. In doing so, the perceiver becomes aware of her own presence within the space, a body in tension with the impermanence of the moment. As the shadows shift and merge, the viewer is reminded that perception is not a passive act, but an active engagement with the layers of time, memory, and space. This act of tracing thus becomes a meditation on the limits of vision, the elusive nature of what we can know, and the inevitable disappearance of all that we attempt to capture. In this fleeting exchange between light and shadow, the observer is drawn into the fragile boundary between existence and absence, between the visible and the invisible. The performance, in its subtle complexity, invites a deeper reflection on the traces we leave behind—and the shadows that continue to follow us even as we try to move beyond them.
Lu Gao and Ching-Wei Wang (Way), Nothing Written on Water, performance with rock, paper, graphite, charcoal, light, and shadow, dimensions variable, 2025
As one passes beyond the traces that these two performances left upon the walls and floor of the gallery, one follows the space into its final surprise. Turning the corner, Gao’s works make up this final curve of the journey as her photographic, philosophical, and architectural sensibilities bring the viewer to final insight: in playing with the viewers' sense of space, perception, and presence, the automatic movement of one’s body and mind are disrupted as one finds oneself becoming re-attuned to the present moment. By throwing the ordinary and every day into a new light, Gao brings her viewers into a newly attuned relationship to the present and, thus, to each other and the world around us. Gao’s works do not simply conclude the exhibition; they shift its rhythm, engaging the body and mind in an act of perceptual recalibration. Through subtle manipulations of spatial relationships, framing, and perspective, she thus unsettles one’s automatic habits of seeing and moving through the world.
Lu Gao, Left: Fluttering, 15 × 75 × 10 inches, PhotoTex fabric mounted on wood, 2024 | Right: Walking Across, 36 × 23 × 9 1/2 inches, PhotoTex fabric mounted on wood, 2024
Lu Gao, !!, 7 1/2 × 11 × 2 1/2 inches, PhotoTex fabric mounted on wood, 2024
By casting the ordinary in a new light, Gao and Way invite their viewers into an attunement that is at once personal and collective—a renewed awareness not just of space, but of the shared act of perceiving, of being present with one another in the world. The exhibition, rather than offering a fixed resolution, leaves me with an awareness sharpened, a lingering openness to the ways in which images, memories, and spaces continue to shape and unsettle our experience.
Together, Way and Gao’s works invite reflection not only on the traces we leave behind, but on the shadows that continue to follow us, shaping both our collective and individual histories. After/Images does not present a singular resolution but instead leaves the viewer with an expanded understanding of how the visible and invisible, the remembered and forgotten, coexist in the spaces we inhabit. The exhibition stands as a testament to the power of art to disrupt the ordinary, recalibrate our perceptions, and offer new insights into the continuous dance between light, shadow, and memory.