Gabriel Ting

Geryon had a little red dog. Herakles killed that too. March
2017
29 in. x 54 in. x 9 in.
73.66 cm. x 137.16 cm. x 22.86 cm.
Acrylic paint on canvas, spray paint on styrofoam and paper

This is the surface level relationship of Geryon and Herakles.

Herakles kills him. Homoerotic subtones in the eruption of the
volcano. Geryon's red wings grant the illusion of freedom, but are
bars of the cage that is his monstrosity. The head’s neck leans to
one side “as a poppy losing all of its petals” after Herakles kills
him. The volcano's eruption is sacrifice of substance (lava) to flow
out and create something else. These three objects interact in
phantom pains, the ache of lost limbs.

Gabriel Ting
unavoidable phantoms November 2015
11 in. x 8.5 in.
27.94 in. x 21.59 cm.
Sumi ink on transparency sheets, mirror

The character displayed on these sheets is 怕, the Chinese

character for fear. Each of the fifteen "moments" on a film is a
character, a single fear. By repetition and the ability to see through
all the films, we access all fears at once to form an emotion. Some
of the sheets are out of focus and feel distant. We can submerge or
accept fears, but never be rid of them. Only the individual can see
their personal fears when they look in a mirror. We create our own
prisons, and are our own jailers.
Gabriel Ting
Compassion. March 2016, below
28 in. x 21 in. x 10 in.
71.12 cm. x 53.34 cm. x 25.4 cm.
Spray paint on styrofoam, cardboard

This is not a representation of murder for pleasure. Strife, death,

and war are daily occurrences. Despite calling ourselves empathetic
creatures, we ignore the vast amount of suffering and pain that
accompanies the cold numbers of a body count. This gives a face
to one of those that are still nameless. The shroud partially masks
this head in a show of insufficient respect. This is something that
is considered a distant problem detached from our own lives.

Gabriel Ting
Who can blame a monster for being red? April 2017
10 in. x 10 in. x 9.25 in.
25.4 cm. x 25.4 cm x 23.495 cm.
Polymer clay in agave nectar, glass, plastic, wood

How do you see something that is unseen? How do you "see"

love? Not chemical or hormonal "love", but how is something
unseen between humans seen? It must be felt. Inspired by
Autobiography of Red, these three pieces form the unseen. The
poppy is an opiate: pleasure, sex, but also death and poison. The
nectar freezes the moment of pleasure (the poppy) in time and
space. The grass is ease of movement with one another, sleep, and
romance. This is the love that belongs to Herakles and Geryon.
Gabriel Ting
it’s not ok. February 2016
22.25 in. x 30 in.
56.515 cm. x 76.2 cm.
Ink on paper

the definition of nonsense is "conduct, action, etc. that is senseless,

foolish, absurd". is there meaning in 5,000 iterations of nonsense? is it
possible to create meaning out of something meaningless? can we
fashion something out of a void? the numbers hidden in the piece (i.e.
perfect squares that create enormous circles) makes something that
only makes sense in its absurdity. isn’t everything just nonsense given
meaning? final question: if "nonsense creates sense", does nonsense
make sense?

Gabriel Ting
Why do you keep forgetting about me? April 2016
10.5 in. x 17 in. x 12 in.
26.67 cm. x 43.18 cm. x 30.48 cm.
Spray paint on styrofoam, cardboard

For a while, Syria was at the forefront of attention. Coverage is

now intermittent. But the turmoil is still happening. People are still
forced to flee. People are still dying. We call events horrific, but
what have we done to help? Have we aided any individuals? Have
we rejected the abuse of human rights? This is a confrontation, a
reminder of the people that are in pain. Don't click past their faces.
Don't reduce them to numbers. They deserve to be treated as the
human beings they are.