Benny Or: Silent Echoes
Meeting Benny Or during the pandemic wasn’t your run-of-the-mill "How’s it going?" It was more like, "Are we ever going anywhere again?"—the question on all of our minds at the time. I first stumbled upon his Instagram feed during those blurry lockdown days, when socializing had been reduced to double-taps and mindless scrolling. But Benny’s posts stood out, offering a breath of fresh air in the middle of all the monotony. A self-taught multidisciplinary artist, he has this incredible knack for storytelling that pulls you right in. So, naturally, I reached out. The rest, as they say, is digital history.
Fast-forward a couple of years, and Benny has been steadily pushing the limits of his creative vision. His work has evolved into something that hooks you in and quietly insists, "Take a closer look." It’s been pretty exciting to watch this transformation unfold in real-time.
This excitement only intensified when I visited his booth at the Spring/Break Art Show last week, where he showcased a series titled Silent Echoes. The name alone beckoned you in with a kind of quiet allure, promising introspection before you even stepped foot in his space. And let’s just say, it delivered.
Benny’s work isn’t the kind you can just glance at, mentally file away under "cool" or "interesting," and move on. It requires a pause, a bit of mental unraveling. In Silent Echoes Benny uses the treasured yoke-back chair as a visual and symbolic gateway into his family's history, one that is as complex as the art itself.
Benny takes this chair, which was introduced in the 10th century and popularized during the Ming Dynasty, and imbues it with meaning beyond its obvious functionality. Known for its horizontal crest this chair was a staple in Chinese households for centuries. But for Benny, it’s a key to unlocking his family’s past, a past filled with legacy, trauma, and resilience.
His great-grandmother, a shamanic healer, held a significant place in the community in pre-communist China. But with the rise of communism, his family lost their wealth and status. His great-grandfather, a court official, took his own life in the midst of this upheaval, leaving behind a legacy that has haunted Benny’s art ever since. His great-grandmother's image—the only photo Benny has of her—becomes a focal point in Silent Echoes, blurred and textured, much like the incomplete memories that form family histories.
The yoke-back chair takes on even greater meaning in this context. It's not just a piece of furniture; it’s a metaphor for the weight of lineage, tradition, and the silent burdens we inherit from those who came before us. In Silent Echoes, Benny paints these chairs from various angles—minimal, almost abstract representations that invite you to fill in the gaps, much like the fragmented anecdotes passed down through generations. There’s a toppled chair too, starkly reminiscent of his great-grandfather’s final moments. The stillness, the silence, the unspeakable emotion, it’s all there.
And here’s where Benny’s art moves beyond mere personal exploration. Silent Echoes asks a larger, more universal question: Are we all carrying the weight of our ancestors, even if we don’t consciously know it? This isn’t just an autobiographical series; it’s an exploration of the transgenerational traumas we all navigate, often unknowingly.
What I love about Benny’s work is how it blurs the line between history and myth, between the past and the present. His chairs, simple yet laden with symbolism, serve as a conduit between the physical and the metaphysical, reminding us that the objects we take for granted often hold meanings far beyond their surface.
Benny Or has managed to take a yoke-back chair, an object most of us would walk right past in an antique store, and turned it into a symbol of resilience, trauma, and healing. And in doing so, he’s created something that lingers long after you’ve left the presence of the work—that’s the mark of great art.