Disarming Play:
Navigating Social Imagery
Disarming Play:
Navigating Social Imagery
Yuying Huang
YuYing Huang is a performance and installation artist based in London and Shanghai. Her work explores the notion of ‘image' and the cultural construction behind it, seeking to understand daily life under the influence of the internet, often through the disarming effects of humor, and drawing from the theories of visual imagery and technology. Her pieces also address social issues through context-based artworks.
Instagram: @yuyinghhhh
Website: yuying-huang.com
The two works below offer a satirical twist on social imagery (what I often call ‘image’). In my practice, play always begins with image—not just as a visual form, but as a material I manipulate and recontextualize within the framework of performance art. The images we encounter—whether religious, like Jesus, or historical, like colonial narratives—are deeply rooted in our collective consciousness and shape how we perceive the world.
However, these shared images carry the weight of entrenched authority, and that’s where disarming play comes in. This kind of play is not about entertainment, but about mirroring the dynamics of reality through performative acts. It disarms these images, allowing us to navigate the seemingly rigid structures they uphold. In this way, play becomes a means of reshaping elements of reality into something malleable.
The First Work: An Image of The ImageThis performance unfolded within the sacred space of St Saviour’s Anglo-Catholic Church in Pimlico, London. I entered the public eye wearing a paper costume adorned with a pixelated image of Jesus, distributing small paper replicas of the biblical bread and wine to the attendees. People spontaneously lined up, participating in what seemed like a parody of the Christian sacrament of communion. While some priests ignored me, one bowed. Among the audience, there was a mix of confusion and curiosity.
This piece plays with the notion of transforming the “image of God” into a fragmented version of itself. My process begins with what I call a found image—a concept building on the idea of the found object, a natural or man-made item that is found by an artist and kept for the intrinsic value the artist sees in it. Found objects have been a key influence on contemporary art. Here, the picture of Jesus was found on a search engine. It is an image of the image plucked from the collective consciousness of the internet.
My final intervention was to pixelate the image. In one way this reflects the changing context of the digitalized world in which we live, but this blurring also undermines a deeply ingrained cultural meme. Jesus certainly wasn’t a white male with long hair and a white robe, yet ironically, I still need to use this particular image to tap into our collective consciousness.
Video : https://vimeo.com/manage/videos/914418071
The Second Work: To Infinity... and Beyond!The second work, performed in Spain, takes the form of a participatory game where the audience engaged in arm wrestling matches. The winner earned the opportunity to sign on to the "galaxy"—a metaphorical act that mirrors both the modern-day practice of buying and naming stars and, historically, the colonial naming of newly "discovered" lands. The arm wrestling matches symbolize the power struggles and territorial contests embedded in this history.
The title, To Infinity... and Beyond! is borrowed from Buzz Lightyear, a character in the animated film Toy Story. Buzz, the space ranger, believes he is a real astronaut, but his high-tech gadgets are merely toys: his communicator is just a sticker, and his laser gun is a simple LED light.
In this performance, the host wore a crown topped with a Manila Galleon—a Spanish colonial-era ship representing one of the earliest examples of globalization through trade. I wore an Earth mask, featuring a map that placed Spain at its center. I remained silent throughout, using a microphone only to project and amplify my breathing: a subtle yet persistent reminder of my presence. Occasionally, I tossed chocolate coins, a nod to colonial history—referencing the Spanish “discovery” of cocoa and its fevered search for gold in the New World—and a reminder of the exploitation of planet Earth at the heart of these power struggles.
ReflectionsAlthough these works employ a form of “disarming play,” I am aware that they may also entail an element of coercion that results in a discomforting experience for the audience and participants. This is not the typical invitation to play or have fun that one might expect. This tension has been a key point of reflection for me over the past year.
I believe this stems from my acute sensitivity to the power structures present in specific spaces—structures which I, as an artist, can perceive and with which I can engage. I have unconsciously absorbed these power dynamics, deeply ingrained and seemingly inevitable, from the country where I spent most of my life. Power, in these cases, asserts itself without offering the reward players would normally expect from “play.”
It was only through reflecting on the works of others that I began to confront this issue. In 2017, during the Guggenheim Museum’s exhibition Art and China After 1989: Theater of the World, three artworks were criticized for being “too cruel” and were ultimately exhibited in a more subdued way due to public backlash. In the museum's subsequent article, “‘How Do You Know the Joy of Fish?’ Curators Reflect on the Controversy over Their Exhibition” curators emphasized that understanding the historical moment in which these works emerged is essential to fully grasp their meaning.
My version of play doesn’t have much reference to conventional games. During childhood and puberty, I had almost no exposure to video games and rarely played board games. This absence has undoubtedly shaped how I perceive and engage with the notion of play. I guess I learned to ‘play’ directly from reality.
The process of play bears a striking resemblance to artistic creation—it operates within the realm of the unknown where new realities are made by players.
In many ways, I see my work as artistic research; although I am unsure of the questions, nor do I know the answers. There’s a long path of exploration ahead.
However, these shared images carry the weight of entrenched authority, and that’s where disarming play comes in. This kind of play is not about entertainment, but about mirroring the dynamics of reality through performative acts. It disarms these images, allowing us to navigate the seemingly rigid structures they uphold. In this way, play becomes a means of reshaping elements of reality into something malleable.
The First Work: An Image of The ImageThis performance unfolded within the sacred space of St Saviour’s Anglo-Catholic Church in Pimlico, London. I entered the public eye wearing a paper costume adorned with a pixelated image of Jesus, distributing small paper replicas of the biblical bread and wine to the attendees. People spontaneously lined up, participating in what seemed like a parody of the Christian sacrament of communion. While some priests ignored me, one bowed. Among the audience, there was a mix of confusion and curiosity.
This piece plays with the notion of transforming the “image of God” into a fragmented version of itself. My process begins with what I call a found image—a concept building on the idea of the found object, a natural or man-made item that is found by an artist and kept for the intrinsic value the artist sees in it. Found objects have been a key influence on contemporary art. Here, the picture of Jesus was found on a search engine. It is an image of the image plucked from the collective consciousness of the internet.
My final intervention was to pixelate the image. In one way this reflects the changing context of the digitalized world in which we live, but this blurring also undermines a deeply ingrained cultural meme. Jesus certainly wasn’t a white male with long hair and a white robe, yet ironically, I still need to use this particular image to tap into our collective consciousness.
Video : https://vimeo.com/manage/videos/914418071
The Second Work: To Infinity... and Beyond!The second work, performed in Spain, takes the form of a participatory game where the audience engaged in arm wrestling matches. The winner earned the opportunity to sign on to the "galaxy"—a metaphorical act that mirrors both the modern-day practice of buying and naming stars and, historically, the colonial naming of newly "discovered" lands. The arm wrestling matches symbolize the power struggles and territorial contests embedded in this history.
The title, To Infinity... and Beyond! is borrowed from Buzz Lightyear, a character in the animated film Toy Story. Buzz, the space ranger, believes he is a real astronaut, but his high-tech gadgets are merely toys: his communicator is just a sticker, and his laser gun is a simple LED light.
In this performance, the host wore a crown topped with a Manila Galleon—a Spanish colonial-era ship representing one of the earliest examples of globalization through trade. I wore an Earth mask, featuring a map that placed Spain at its center. I remained silent throughout, using a microphone only to project and amplify my breathing: a subtle yet persistent reminder of my presence. Occasionally, I tossed chocolate coins, a nod to colonial history—referencing the Spanish “discovery” of cocoa and its fevered search for gold in the New World—and a reminder of the exploitation of planet Earth at the heart of these power struggles.
ReflectionsAlthough these works employ a form of “disarming play,” I am aware that they may also entail an element of coercion that results in a discomforting experience for the audience and participants. This is not the typical invitation to play or have fun that one might expect. This tension has been a key point of reflection for me over the past year.
I believe this stems from my acute sensitivity to the power structures present in specific spaces—structures which I, as an artist, can perceive and with which I can engage. I have unconsciously absorbed these power dynamics, deeply ingrained and seemingly inevitable, from the country where I spent most of my life. Power, in these cases, asserts itself without offering the reward players would normally expect from “play.”
It was only through reflecting on the works of others that I began to confront this issue. In 2017, during the Guggenheim Museum’s exhibition Art and China After 1989: Theater of the World, three artworks were criticized for being “too cruel” and were ultimately exhibited in a more subdued way due to public backlash. In the museum's subsequent article, “‘How Do You Know the Joy of Fish?’ Curators Reflect on the Controversy over Their Exhibition” curators emphasized that understanding the historical moment in which these works emerged is essential to fully grasp their meaning.
My version of play doesn’t have much reference to conventional games. During childhood and puberty, I had almost no exposure to video games and rarely played board games. This absence has undoubtedly shaped how I perceive and engage with the notion of play. I guess I learned to ‘play’ directly from reality.
The process of play bears a striking resemblance to artistic creation—it operates within the realm of the unknown where new realities are made by players.
In many ways, I see my work as artistic research; although I am unsure of the questions, nor do I know the answers. There’s a long path of exploration ahead.