By Randy Gledhill
The room is pitch black. There are so many people clambering for a little vacant wall space, or floor space, it becomes a bit of a group grope. People outside crane for a glimpse of what is happening in the over-sold space. Fog rolls in. The room is sweet with theatrical smoke. Singapore artist, Agnes Yit enters, her feet bound to solid heavy bricks. The elegant young woman walks tall with a big authority. Clunk. Ca-chunk. Knock.
She holds a hula hoop that at her command lights up with colored LED’s. She starts to spin it, creating variations on a psychedelic kaleidoscope. I am reminded of Duchamps Rotoreliefs, Bridget Riley, Victor Vasarely and all things op. She plays, spins, threatens, poses. The fog keeps coming in waves. Trippy. I begin to have an acid flashback. Another time, another place, another Princess.