The idea of systemic fear infuses the whole exhibition. From the fear of failure to the fear of violence or exclusion, fear is real, and it is meted out to certain population groups by the structures of disempowerment they have to struggle against—structures mainly built by others.

I first encountered Korean artist Mire Lee via an Instagram story—a documentation of Andrea, Ophelia, at the endless house (2018). Her works, despite intermediary layers of digital conversion, evoked a convolution of haptic intrigue: the darkened studio space was dimly lit by a screen looping a voyeuristic video of Asian women in transit. Next to it, a mysterious, wet thing—towels, chains, silicone hoses, and steel wire entangled into a giant lump—slowly rotated in a pool of glycerin spread across a steel plinth suspended by a set of tentacular appendages. Suddenly the thing spasmed, making a loud noise as it disentangled itself and splashed gooey liquid onto the floor. Confronted by that creature born of machinery and slime, I felt a mixture of nausea and arousal.