With over 80 works on display, this is Louise Bourgeois’ first solo show in Taiwan. Visitors are invited to traverse her world of love and hate, vengeance and acceptance, trauma and reconciliation.
Dominating the entrance, the nine-foot-tall Crouching Spider (2003) greets visitors. The creature looms behind the glass facade, symbolic protector and gatekeeper to the intimate journey ahead.
Bourgeois, best known for her giant spider sculptures, is one of the most influential artist of the twentieth century.
Photo: Bonnie White
Blending vulnerability and defiance through themes of sexuality, trauma and identity, her work reshaped the landscape of contemporary art with fearless honesty.
“People are influenced by fantasies, but [Bourgeois’] work is raw,” says co-curator Reiko Tsubaki.
Raised in her family’s tapestry restoration workshop, Bourgeois developed early craftsmanship. From marble to wood, steel to gouache, her skills became her language.
Photo: Bonnie White
The show unfolds in three main sections — motherhood, emotional struggle and reconciliation, reflecting Bourgeois’ lifelong engagement with family trauma, plus two columns showcasing some of her early works.
Adding a local touch, famous Taiwanese pop singer Stella Chang (張清芳) narrates the Chinese version of the audio guide.
MOTHER
Photo: Bonnie White
The opening chapter, “Do Not Abandon Me,” unravels Bourgeois’ relationship with motherhood.
The centrepiece Breast and the Blade (1991) captivates. From one angle, tender breasts cast in bronze are exposed; from another, a blade sticks out, guarding the socle.
In the corner, Nature Study (1984), a pink headless dog with six breasts, stands watch. The grotesque and maternal figure evokes unease and guardianship.
To Bourgeois, motherhood was both a burden and a source of creation. Her sculptures express the female body as a site of contradiction: nurturing yet wounded, exposed yet defiant.
The spider, a recurring motif in her work, is another metaphor: the fierce protector mending broken webs.
“My best friend was my mother, and she was deliberate, clever, patient, soothing, reasonable, dainty, subtle, indispensable, neat and as useful as an araignee,” Bourgeois said in a 1995 interview.
FATHER
In the second chapter of the exhibition, “I’ve been to hell and back,” the exhibition turns inwards.
The space shrinks in the dim-lit room, echoing the claustrophobia of memory and rage.
Cages and erotic images overwhelm the viewer. The room exudes psychic pain and fractured bodies.
While her mother suffered from chronic illness, young Bourgeois endured her father’s decade-long affair with their house governess. This painful memory became a driving force in her art, allowing her to externalize her anger and unresolved grief.
“Making art became an outlet for Bourgeois to deal with pain,” co-curator Manabu Yahagi says.
The Destruction of the Father (1974) bathed in red light is embedded into the wall like a wound. Inside, gnawed flesh forms on a dinner table, luring visitors into Bourgeois’ childhood revenge fantasy of devouring her father.
RECONCIALIATION
Moving across to the last chapter, “Repairs in the Sky,” the mood shifts. Bourgeois’ fabric works from the restorative phase of her practice decorate the walls.
These pieces, made from salvaged household fabrics and objects once belonging to family members, embody her desire to physically mend the past.
Towering 15 feet, Spider (1997), from Bourgeois’ “Cell” series, anchors the room. The monumental bronze legs encase a cell adorned with tapestry scraps, symbolizing both maternal protection and the entrapment of memory.
Upstairs, the final section of the exhibition opens into a vast room. Bourgeois’ later works invite reflection and healing.
Under a bright skylight, Arch of Hysteria (1993), a suspended bronze figure, arched in tension and release, captures the raw physicality of emotional suffering.
Across the room, gentle shades of blue wash over the sparse room, concluding Bourgeois’ psychoanalytic journey.
“I see her as one of the most incredible craftswomen, and the younger generation can learn much from her,” Manabu Yahagi says.
In the March 9 edition of the Taipei Times a piece by Ninon Godefroy ran with the headine “The quiet, gentle rhythm of Taiwan.” It started with the line “Taiwan is a small, humble place. There is no Eiffel Tower, no pyramids — no singular attraction that draws the world’s attention.” I laughed out loud at that. This was out of no disrespect for the author or the piece, which made some interesting analogies and good points about how both Din Tai Fung’s and Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co’s (TSMC, 台積電) meticulous attention to detail and quality are not quite up to
April 21 to April 27 Hsieh Er’s (謝娥) political fortunes were rising fast after she got out of jail and joined the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) in December 1945. Not only did she hold key positions in various committees, she was elected the only woman on the Taipei City Council and headed to Nanjing in 1946 as the sole Taiwanese female representative to the National Constituent Assembly. With the support of first lady Soong May-ling (宋美齡), she started the Taipei Women’s Association and Taiwan Provincial Women’s Association, where she
It is one of the more remarkable facts of Taiwan history that it was never occupied or claimed by any of the numerous kingdoms of southern China — Han or otherwise — that lay just across the water from it. None of their brilliant ministers ever discovered that Taiwan was a “core interest” of the state whose annexation was “inevitable.” As Paul Kua notes in an excellent monograph laying out how the Portuguese gave Taiwan the name “Formosa,” the first Europeans to express an interest in occupying Taiwan were the Spanish. Tonio Andrade in his seminal work, How Taiwan Became Chinese,
Mongolian influencer Anudari Daarya looks effortlessly glamorous and carefree in her social media posts — but the classically trained pianist’s road to acceptance as a transgender artist has been anything but easy. She is one of a growing number of Mongolian LGBTQ youth challenging stereotypes and fighting for acceptance through media representation in the socially conservative country. LGBTQ Mongolians often hide their identities from their employers and colleagues for fear of discrimination, with a survey by the non-profit LGBT Centre Mongolia showing that only 20 percent of people felt comfortable coming out at work. Daarya, 25, said she has faced discrimination since she