Photography: Luna Kolberg
MING YUAN
The Gift
December 14 - January 19
Opening December 13, 6 - 9pm
VON DER HOEDEN CONTEMPORARY
Colonnaden 72, 20354 Hamburg
Cunning I-IV, 2024
Mahogany, glazed ceramic,
21x30.5x2.5 cm
Veil I, 2024
appx. 41x19x1.5 cm
Aluminium
Veil II-IV, 2024
appx. 40x40x2 cm
Oil on jut canvas
The Gift, 2024
dimensions vary
36 empty candy gift boxes with ribbons
The Gift
Text by Ming Yuan
In Marcel Mauss’s seminal essay The Gift, he examines the anthropological roots of exchange. Mauss highlights how objects of exchange in primitive societies are imbued with both personal and cultural significance, composing of talismans or other symbols of wealth. This interplay between object and soul resonates with my own experience of gifting, where the act itself mingles lives together, blurring the boundaries between the personal and the material. To present them constitutes a request; to accept them is to commit oneself.
My recent series of works explore the theme of gifting within intimate relationships by focusing on my own experiences—portraying female hands, modelled after snow white’s and the evil queen’s—holding apples that carry significant symbolic weights: pleasure, value, danger and desires. Similar to the glossy smooth polishing of a mini-cooper, once gifted to me, signify not only care and love but also the subtle expectation of reciprocation and manipulation of desires, whether emotional or material. A gift that seduces, pampers, and corrupts the receiver, creating a reliance on the luxurious comfort, turning the giver to a subjugator. The works meditate on the moral complexities of giving and receiving, raising questions about the unspoken obligations that underlie romantic exchanges.
Mauss suggests that to present a gift is not merely to give but to entangle oneself in a social contract. The power of a gift lies not in its physicality but in the soul it carries—a fragment of the giver’s essence. In Maori culture, gifting is an act that fuses souls, cementing relationships through the exchange of objects that are, in a sense, extensions of the self. This sentiment echoes in the exhibition: the hands hold more than objects—they clutch at the invisible threads of connection, of expectation, of unspoken commitment.
The apple and the car, become, in this light, ‘clinching gifts’—to borrow Bronisław Malinowski’s term—that seal the transaction of intimacy. But there’s a darker side to this, too. In offering a gift, there’s always the risk of the benevolence becoming transaction, a situation where the pressure to reciprocate overrides genuine connection. One might question the fine line between giving as an expression of love and giving as an assertion of power, where the exchange becomes a subtle form of control, rivalry and destruction.
The Gift
December 14 - January 19
Opening December 13, 6 - 9pm
VON DER HOEDEN CONTEMPORARY
Colonnaden 72, 20354 Hamburg
Cunning I-IV, 2024
Mahogany, glazed ceramic,
21x30.5x2.5 cm
Veil I, 2024
appx. 41x19x1.5 cm
Aluminium
Veil II-IV, 2024
appx. 40x40x2 cm
Oil on jut canvas
The Gift, 2024
dimensions vary
36 empty candy gift boxes with ribbons
The Gift
Text by Ming Yuan
In Marcel Mauss’s seminal essay The Gift, he examines the anthropological roots of exchange. Mauss highlights how objects of exchange in primitive societies are imbued with both personal and cultural significance, composing of talismans or other symbols of wealth. This interplay between object and soul resonates with my own experience of gifting, where the act itself mingles lives together, blurring the boundaries between the personal and the material. To present them constitutes a request; to accept them is to commit oneself.
My recent series of works explore the theme of gifting within intimate relationships by focusing on my own experiences—portraying female hands, modelled after snow white’s and the evil queen’s—holding apples that carry significant symbolic weights: pleasure, value, danger and desires. Similar to the glossy smooth polishing of a mini-cooper, once gifted to me, signify not only care and love but also the subtle expectation of reciprocation and manipulation of desires, whether emotional or material. A gift that seduces, pampers, and corrupts the receiver, creating a reliance on the luxurious comfort, turning the giver to a subjugator. The works meditate on the moral complexities of giving and receiving, raising questions about the unspoken obligations that underlie romantic exchanges.
Mauss suggests that to present a gift is not merely to give but to entangle oneself in a social contract. The power of a gift lies not in its physicality but in the soul it carries—a fragment of the giver’s essence. In Maori culture, gifting is an act that fuses souls, cementing relationships through the exchange of objects that are, in a sense, extensions of the self. This sentiment echoes in the exhibition: the hands hold more than objects—they clutch at the invisible threads of connection, of expectation, of unspoken commitment.
The apple and the car, become, in this light, ‘clinching gifts’—to borrow Bronisław Malinowski’s term—that seal the transaction of intimacy. But there’s a darker side to this, too. In offering a gift, there’s always the risk of the benevolence becoming transaction, a situation where the pressure to reciprocate overrides genuine connection. One might question the fine line between giving as an expression of love and giving as an assertion of power, where the exchange becomes a subtle form of control, rivalry and destruction.
Penny’s Box
A Christmas story by Karoline Franka Foldager
for Ming Yuan’s The Gift at VON DER HOEDEN CONTEMPORARY
- I’m a gift, I'm a gift, I’m a gift, I’ll wait, I’ll pay, I’ll receive, Penny repeated the mantra to herself. A mantra she was sure would lead her to love and happiness. - And gifts come alive the moment someone receives, accepts and owns them. Penny felt like she had spent her whole life waiting to exist. She was ready to start living, today, and he was the key.
It was a pretty winter day. It felt like the wind was blowing out from inside the center of the earth, spiralling upwards into the sky, swirling everyone's fluffy scarves, hats and the big snowflakes around like Marilyn Monroe’s dress over a New York City subway grate. December had been warm, wet, and grey so far, but today, on Christmas Day, it was bright and crisp. It felt intentional. The sky was icy blue with small clouds that felt young and cute. She imagined them as satisfied sheep and felt as though people thought she looked like an ice-skater princess when they passed her on the street
They had planned to meet early in the afternoon to exchange christmas presents. On a bench outside of the small park where they had been making out two and a half months ago, in the last warm days of autumn, when they had just met. She had thought about where they should meet carefully for weeks but had proposed the bench to him as if the idea just came into her head the same moment she spoke it. - We could meet there. She hoped that the memory of the park would remind him that she was an easy, fun-loving-girl. It would be effortless for him to tie himself to her. She covered her sensitive sides in order not to seem too attached. Overly romantic gestures had sabotaged her in the past. Men never seemed to want her if she really wanted them. She tried not to show too much effort. She wanted to be an easy gift. He was the scissor who would release her.
Penny had already bought the square box five weeks ago. The box was big in a way that felt like it came from inside a child’s Christmas dream. It could contain a young heart’s wish for a living puppy or a diamond colored Chanel dress. The box was made of shiny red cardboard. The gift had been in her head since the moment they met. She had endless notes on her phone of combinations to give him; a tie and a craft beer, a book and bag of coffee, cinema tickets and a scarf. Now she carefully folded a big sheet of white silk paper and placed it in the box. She placed the woolen gloves that she had decided on and the little porcelain cup with the grid that was his favorite to drink off when he stayed at her place. It was a caring but carefree gift that for sure would make him see that she was the real gift.
She was walking to meet him. She was on her way. She walked up and down a small side street a few times. She wanted to strategically be six minutes late to seem a bit unavailable. She was deep in her fantasies. She felt that this was how true love is meant to feel. She could see it happening: he would give her her present, she would give him his, he would look at it carefully and at her and he would say; - I love you, Penny.
There is a bow on her dress with a Céline logo on the ribbon, a bow in her hair on a hairpin, a silver ring shaped as a string tying a bow around her finger, she has tied the laces on her mid-calf boots into two small bows. There are small bows on her bra and panties. She is his to cut open. She arrived at the bench but he was nowhere to be seen. Penny waited.
Penny felt a vibration in her pocket and looked at her phone, it was a text from him: - Hey, I completely lost track of time, I’m helping my mother with the turkey now, let’s meet tomorrow?
She felt numb but wild at the same time and the swans in her heart that had been swirling around all day had turned into screaming black bats.
- Sure no problem, she answered him and followed with a; - Merry Christmas.
- Thanks, you too, he replied.
She sat down on the bench suddenly feeling ridiculous in her clothes; a vintage Miu Miu coat she had bought because he liked it and a lambskin hat that was itchy on her forehead. She threw the hat angrily on the ground. She remembered that she had a bag of Christmas cakes in her bag that she had planned for them to share. She got it out with hasty and shaky hands and started to stuff her mouth with the heart shaped choco-honey-apricot-cookies. It was snowing and she didn't care about how she looked, she wasn't even imagining seeing herself with rosy cheeks and snowflakes melting in her hair through the eyes of others. She was chewing and chewing and swallowing and swallowing. Her teeth and lips were brown with chocolate. - I’m a gift, I'm a gift, I’m a gift, I’ll wait, I’ll pay, I’ll receive, she thought, to cover the sound of all the other thoughts. She almost knew but not completely yet - she was still coming into the realization - that it had happened again, she had played ping pong with herself up against the walls of his heart. He didn’t really care and she had hoped to fall in love with herself through him. Penny stared into the abyss.
It began to hurt inside of the bone that covers her heart between her breasts. Penny unbuttoned her coat and dress and saw that the skin looked bruised. The cold December air on the naked part felt good. She saw how the bruise started to spread all across her body. She looked around, there was no one in the street. She took off all her clothes, even her underwear and threw it in a pile by her feet and observed how the bruise filled her whole body. She sat down on the bench again. Her whole body had turned blue and purple. She looked down between her breasts at the center of where the pain was coming from. It looked like she was boiling. The skin bubbled and moved angrily. Something was moving inside of her chest. A small black flintstone started to make its way out. She wasn’t scared, she knew it was her heart. It pushed through her bone, flesh and skin and fell out with a plop, landing on her bruised naked thighs. She looked at the stone and felt that the stone was looking at her. She was seeing her own heart. Then her stone-heart looked away and started moving. It slowly slid down in between her legs and crawled up into her pussy. The heart made its way deep into her and stopped moving inside of her stomach where she knew it had fallen asleep. She felt that for the first time she was containing herself more than anyone else.
She sat paralyzed for hours and the cold began to sink deep into her. It was turning her into an ice sculpture. Her nails turned into crystals and she were blinded by snowflakes that didn’t melt anymore when they landed on her eyeballs. She turned completely see-through and sparkling.
Slowly Penny’s body levitated high up in the sky. Seen from the ground it was looking like the star over Bethlehem. It was both death and a new life. Penny thought to herself that when she returned to earth as a snow blizzard, she would become a feminist.
A Christmas story by Karoline Franka Foldager
for Ming Yuan’s The Gift at VON DER HOEDEN CONTEMPORARY
- I’m a gift, I'm a gift, I’m a gift, I’ll wait, I’ll pay, I’ll receive, Penny repeated the mantra to herself. A mantra she was sure would lead her to love and happiness. - And gifts come alive the moment someone receives, accepts and owns them. Penny felt like she had spent her whole life waiting to exist. She was ready to start living, today, and he was the key.
It was a pretty winter day. It felt like the wind was blowing out from inside the center of the earth, spiralling upwards into the sky, swirling everyone's fluffy scarves, hats and the big snowflakes around like Marilyn Monroe’s dress over a New York City subway grate. December had been warm, wet, and grey so far, but today, on Christmas Day, it was bright and crisp. It felt intentional. The sky was icy blue with small clouds that felt young and cute. She imagined them as satisfied sheep and felt as though people thought she looked like an ice-skater princess when they passed her on the street
They had planned to meet early in the afternoon to exchange christmas presents. On a bench outside of the small park where they had been making out two and a half months ago, in the last warm days of autumn, when they had just met. She had thought about where they should meet carefully for weeks but had proposed the bench to him as if the idea just came into her head the same moment she spoke it. - We could meet there. She hoped that the memory of the park would remind him that she was an easy, fun-loving-girl. It would be effortless for him to tie himself to her. She covered her sensitive sides in order not to seem too attached. Overly romantic gestures had sabotaged her in the past. Men never seemed to want her if she really wanted them. She tried not to show too much effort. She wanted to be an easy gift. He was the scissor who would release her.
Penny had already bought the square box five weeks ago. The box was big in a way that felt like it came from inside a child’s Christmas dream. It could contain a young heart’s wish for a living puppy or a diamond colored Chanel dress. The box was made of shiny red cardboard. The gift had been in her head since the moment they met. She had endless notes on her phone of combinations to give him; a tie and a craft beer, a book and bag of coffee, cinema tickets and a scarf. Now she carefully folded a big sheet of white silk paper and placed it in the box. She placed the woolen gloves that she had decided on and the little porcelain cup with the grid that was his favorite to drink off when he stayed at her place. It was a caring but carefree gift that for sure would make him see that she was the real gift.
She was walking to meet him. She was on her way. She walked up and down a small side street a few times. She wanted to strategically be six minutes late to seem a bit unavailable. She was deep in her fantasies. She felt that this was how true love is meant to feel. She could see it happening: he would give her her present, she would give him his, he would look at it carefully and at her and he would say; - I love you, Penny.
There is a bow on her dress with a Céline logo on the ribbon, a bow in her hair on a hairpin, a silver ring shaped as a string tying a bow around her finger, she has tied the laces on her mid-calf boots into two small bows. There are small bows on her bra and panties. She is his to cut open. She arrived at the bench but he was nowhere to be seen. Penny waited.
Penny felt a vibration in her pocket and looked at her phone, it was a text from him: - Hey, I completely lost track of time, I’m helping my mother with the turkey now, let’s meet tomorrow?
She felt numb but wild at the same time and the swans in her heart that had been swirling around all day had turned into screaming black bats.
- Sure no problem, she answered him and followed with a; - Merry Christmas.
- Thanks, you too, he replied.
She sat down on the bench suddenly feeling ridiculous in her clothes; a vintage Miu Miu coat she had bought because he liked it and a lambskin hat that was itchy on her forehead. She threw the hat angrily on the ground. She remembered that she had a bag of Christmas cakes in her bag that she had planned for them to share. She got it out with hasty and shaky hands and started to stuff her mouth with the heart shaped choco-honey-apricot-cookies. It was snowing and she didn't care about how she looked, she wasn't even imagining seeing herself with rosy cheeks and snowflakes melting in her hair through the eyes of others. She was chewing and chewing and swallowing and swallowing. Her teeth and lips were brown with chocolate. - I’m a gift, I'm a gift, I’m a gift, I’ll wait, I’ll pay, I’ll receive, she thought, to cover the sound of all the other thoughts. She almost knew but not completely yet - she was still coming into the realization - that it had happened again, she had played ping pong with herself up against the walls of his heart. He didn’t really care and she had hoped to fall in love with herself through him. Penny stared into the abyss.
It began to hurt inside of the bone that covers her heart between her breasts. Penny unbuttoned her coat and dress and saw that the skin looked bruised. The cold December air on the naked part felt good. She saw how the bruise started to spread all across her body. She looked around, there was no one in the street. She took off all her clothes, even her underwear and threw it in a pile by her feet and observed how the bruise filled her whole body. She sat down on the bench again. Her whole body had turned blue and purple. She looked down between her breasts at the center of where the pain was coming from. It looked like she was boiling. The skin bubbled and moved angrily. Something was moving inside of her chest. A small black flintstone started to make its way out. She wasn’t scared, she knew it was her heart. It pushed through her bone, flesh and skin and fell out with a plop, landing on her bruised naked thighs. She looked at the stone and felt that the stone was looking at her. She was seeing her own heart. Then her stone-heart looked away and started moving. It slowly slid down in between her legs and crawled up into her pussy. The heart made its way deep into her and stopped moving inside of her stomach where she knew it had fallen asleep. She felt that for the first time she was containing herself more than anyone else.
She sat paralyzed for hours and the cold began to sink deep into her. It was turning her into an ice sculpture. Her nails turned into crystals and she were blinded by snowflakes that didn’t melt anymore when they landed on her eyeballs. She turned completely see-through and sparkling.
Slowly Penny’s body levitated high up in the sky. Seen from the ground it was looking like the star over Bethlehem. It was both death and a new life. Penny thought to herself that when she returned to earth as a snow blizzard, she would become a feminist.