2025.4.19 – 2025.6.30

Hushen Art Museum

Three on the bund 3F, No.3 Zhong Shan Dong Yi Rd., Shanghai, China

Artists: Ding Yi, Gonkar Gyatso, Gong Yu, Huang Wei, He Xun, Liao Fei, Leonardo Ulian, Lin Haizhong, Pei Zhuangxin, Qu Fengguo, Yoshihiko Ueda, Wang Zixuan, Ye Qing

General Planning: Wang Yu, Pema Dorje

Curator: Sheng Liyu

One theory holds that our very notion of space–time is nothing more than a construct of consciousness—an interface fashioned to facilitate our survival (Hoffman, 2000). Through rigorous mathematical modeling, the scientists advancing this theory have demonstrated that natural selection favors those biological systems that “simplify truth”¹. For example, if an organism were to expend precious resources attempting to apprehend the “true structure” of space–time, its survival efficiency might well be compromised; in contrast, organisms that reduce the world to an “iconic interface”—with basic elements such as colors, shapes, and spatial relations—stand a better chance of thriving.

This idea is in harmony with the musings of phenomenologists like Husserl and Heidegger, who contend that our comprehension of the world is, in essence, a creation of consciousness. Yet “space–time” may not exist as an objective entity independent of the mind; rather, it is the very framework through which we perceive and interpret our surroundings. In this view, the space–time we experience is but a facet of phenomena, rather than the ultimate truth, or what Kant referred to as the “thing-in-itself”.

For instance, human perception operates within the immediate coordinates of time and space, yet the physical objects we perceive—the “five aggregates” in Buddhist terms—function more like app icons on a smartphone: tools designed to optimize user experience (i.e., consciousness), rather than to reveal the underlying code of reality itself (Hoffman, 2000).

Wise thinkers throughout Tibetan history would likely find this notion familiar and agreeable. Modern physics, too, has provided experimental evidence from the quantum level that consciousness affects the physical world. The quantum version of the double-slit experiment ², for instance, probes the very core of epistemology: when observation intervenes, the collapse of the wave function is no longer merely a physical event, but one that dissolves the boundary between subject and object. This aligns strikingly with the Yogācāra view that “all phenomena arise from consciousness”. Observing an electron alters its behavior—observation itself becomes an act of creating reality. This idea resonates profoundly with the doctrine that “perception transforms the perceived”, “with the birth of consciousness, the world is born”. Likewise, at an altitude of 4,000 meters, Tibetan devotees begin each day dedicating merit to all sentient beings, trusting that such mental acts have tangible effects on the material world.

Few would now crudely dismiss such ideas as mere superstition. A major triumph of quantum mechanics is its suggestion that “consciousness” might itself be a quantum phenomenon—capable of influencing the material world. In this light, artists perform a similar function. Within the interface we inhabit, they generate symbols, illusions, and forms to help us engage more deeply with truth. In Tibetan terms, this is cultivating truth through illusion. The evolution of art has long transcended simple mimicry of an ostensibly “objective world.” In other words, artists often create illusions to guide us toward the truth through tangible forms. The necessity of this lies in the use of the perceptible to awaken that which cannot be seen.

Songtsam, for instance, boasts its own artist residency program and has recently established the Songtsam Art Center. Yet this exhibition is neither a mere report of residency accomplishments nor an ostentatious display of an art collection. Why, then, would Songtsam—the leading cultural and hospitality brand of the Tibetan plateau—collaborate with HuShen, a landmark of Chinese contemporary art in Shanghai, to host an art exhibition?

I believe it is because the wisdom of the highlands is evolving with the times. This kind of wisdom takes the form of art and manifests in a contemporary way. The image of the Buddha, once preserved in palm-leaf manuscripts and temple murals, now appears on digital screens and in data streams. Can it still hear your prayers? As the saying goes, there are “84,000 Dharma doors”—while the media may change, for those committed to seeking truth, the tools are not the path itself.

I would even venture to suggest that Songtsam is not primarily concerned with whether visitors have an unforgettable travel experience. Rather, its deeper intention lies in exploring and communicating the age-old Himalayan worldview: What is the relationship between human beings and nature? Can these ideas be conveyed through travel—or through art?

As viewers exit the exhibition, the chimes of the Bund’s clock tower will still strike with mechanical precision. Yet perhaps someone will begin to sense a hidden resonance within those pendulums—one that echoes the vibration of a monastery drum in Tibet. Perhaps the “secret doorway” need not lie in remote mountains, but can open even within the heart of the everyday world.

Annotation：

1. Hoffman, D. D., Singh, M., & Prakash, C. (2015). The Interface Theory of Perception. Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 22(6), 1480-1506.

2. In the canonical double-slit experiment, electrons or photons produce an interference pattern on the detection screen after passing through two slits, indicating their wave-like properties. However, once which-path detection is introduced, the interference pattern vanishes, and particle-like behavior emerges. This phenomenon defies classical physical explanation and instead necessitates recourse to the principles of quantum superposition and the collapse of the wave function.

Article / Sheng Liyu

A Path to Enlightenment