WONG SIN

“EIXIT / EXIST” unfolds as a transformation between body and machine (object). At the beginning, a motorcycle will be entirely covered with layers of animal fur. The audience will not see its internal structure—it takes on the shape of a bizarre, uncanny creature, something that exists between the organic and the mechanical. These furs, once fragments of living beings, lend the motorcycle a borrowed vitality while evoking an uneasy tension between the familiar and the foreign. The choice of the motorcycle is not merely material, but deeply emotional and personal. It exists between a bicycle and a car, carrying both human and mechanical characteristics. Its form aligns more closely with the curves of the human body than a car’s, yet it is more mechanical than a bicycle. My hair will be tied to the motorcycle, like a fragile umbilical cord. Through movements constrained by physical limits, I will express the tenuous connection between body and object—revealing how humans cannot exist apart from material forms, forever oscillating between dependence, tension, intimacy, and estrangement. Later, the audience will be invited to cut the strands of hair that link me to the motorcycle, symbolically separating us into two distinct entities. They become both witnesses and executors. This act echoes the removal of the letter “S” in the title: softness is stripped from structure, the flesh from the machine, the self from its attachments. Finally, I will remove the fur that covers the motorcycle and invite the audience to wrap those furs around my body, reversing the relationship between human and object. Here, the boundary between organic and inorganic collapses, urging reflection on the roles that life and death, being and objecthood, play in existence. The difference between Exist and Exit lies only in the removal of a single letter—S. The change is subtle in sound yet profound in meaning. When S is removed, the state of being becomes the act of departure. The letter S is sinuous, organic, and supple; in contrast, Exit feels direct, linear, and mechanical. The shift from exist to exit is more than linguistic—it is ontological, signifying the removal of something organic and tender, leaving only structured existence. In such a rational form, can the warmth of emotion still survive?