Eternal [Kalpa]

Eternal [Kalpa] is the image of the sun reaching the horizon, that liquid moment it takes to melt into the sea. This sublime sequence, replayed daily at the viewpoint of Phuket’s Promthep Cape, will recur until the world and everything in it has expired. It is the interval when sun and sky, and the sea, their gigantic mirror, conspire to flood the eye with intense colour, before yielding to the darkness. Meanwhile, the sun moves on from this momentous juncture, marking time’s passage no less dramatically in another hemisphere. 

However bound by the strictures of modern clock time, living and non-living things still abide by the cycles of the celestial spheres: coastal villagers stop weaving their fishing nets, cabaret performers paint their faces for a show, fishmongers present the day’s catch on market stalls, tourists return from diving excursions, refugees follow disasters back home on their phone screens, the faithful pray, dugongs graze in the seagrass beds, a great carbon sink is sweetened by sunlight as the sea rises and falls with the moon’s pull. 

This succession of mundane spectacles, human and non-human, can captivate and soothe us, even as it signals catastrophe. A changed climate; rising, acid seas; more frequent natural disasters—an ancient equilibrium upset. The pressures of a competitive economic system, its ubiquitous violence less and less concealed, are sapping human empathy and degrading the non-human world. A whole epoch of domestication, of homing, seems to be giving way to a new age of abandonment and evacuation. Even the champions of this planetary contest are planning their exit. 

Eternal [Kalpa] is a call to suspend that telos, that destiny, in favour of others—in favour of a time that creates and enables, that embraces cycles both cosmic and quotidian; a time that can accommodate other times, and thus permit the cooperation required to find considered, compassionate solutions to shared problems. The concept derives from an old Hindu interpretation of time: it is one day in the life of the Creator-God, Brahma—1,000 Mahayuga, or 4,320,000,000 human years—until Shiva destroyed that creation with the fire of the Kalpa. One Kalpa is equal to the duration of Brahma’s light, and when that world is destroyed, darkness falls. At dawn, a new world is created, beginning a new Kalpa.

Yet another kind of time resides in our consciousness: humans do not only record “historical” time, they also register the past intuitively. From terrible misadventures to unforgettable joys, through changes sudden and gradual, experience leaves its imprints on our behaviour. The apprehension of time is shaped by intense feelings, by euphoria and grief, then sedimented in memory and habit. This subjective time does not align with the temporal flow of the physical world or the designs of institutions. Yet it renders a certain duration that is lodged in the stories we tell, that informs our decisions and creative acts. It is memory, conscious and unconscious, that allows us as individuals to recognize ourselves in shared histories and futures. 

At the core of this exhibition is the problem of coexistence, amid mounting differences that are amplified by ecological crisis, greed, and failures of communication and political will. In an age of “polycrisis”, Eternal [Kalpa] should be a prompt, to take cues from the natural world and dwell in this more mindful, more accommodating time. Diverse tempos are introduced by streams of artistic research and dialogue across many fields: architecture, music, visual art, theatre, performance, design, film, literature, and the sciences. A more embracing politics—sensate, polyrhythmic—demands new modes of listening, feeling, and tasting. What could such a multisensory re-education teach us about our interdependence? What intangible resources, what customary and embodied knowledge, can be passed on to the next generations?

Natural disasters like the Indian Ocean tsunami that struck Phuket and surrounding areas in 2004, and the recent Covid-19 pandemic, left indelible marks on the island and its inhabitants, while also changing its image and economic prospects. These events bore lessons in resilience and resolve that will be crucial in the face of anthropogenic dangers like habitat destruction, a resurgent fascism, and the epidemic of doubt and distrust brought on by technologies that automate and divide the public sphere. Historical understanding and compassion, among neighbours and strangers alike, have never been more vital. To live in harmony with each other and the planet will require new ways of sharing time, a time that is not one. 

—Arin Rungjang, David Teh,Marisa Phandharakrajadej, Hera Chan