Chợt mộng tan conjures up a kaleidoscopic world of Thuy-Anh Dang — a labyrinth that takes root from her memories, imagination, and obsession. Following the dreams, which are a patchwork of reality and unexcavated feelings, Thuy-Anh arrives at the most earnest part of her subconscious mind. Here, she meets with myriads of monologues laden with ‘what-ifs’, as well as rendezvous that have no set dates and times. 

Materialised at the other end of a dream, the three-part labyrinth weaves together past, present and future: a simulation of a fleshy space that lulls and wraps around anyone that steps into it; a reconstructed living space that is packed with personal keepsakes; a configuration of a meeting space that knows no end. Wading through every cryptic membrane of this labyrinth is like following the steps that Thuy-Anh had taken: a directionless journey of unmediated emotional rises and falls. 

Space in Thuỳ Anh’s works functions just the same way as a home does. It is a shelter for her body and mind, where she could submerge herself in her own thoughts and feelings. A safe space where she could stay idle for however long she needs to, and lets her mind run free. A refuge for her to turn to as she weathers through the process of dealing with loss. The home now morphs from a space for confrontation and consolation to a space for confinement where time stands still. We are still social creatures at heart — that is as much as we enjoy solitude, sometimes we still crave companionship. When someone with shared experience comes into our lives, not only do the doors to our home open, but another home will also emerge. After all, a home is not a totally enclosed space, and the significance of beings is characterised by our sense of community.

– Abstract from curatorial text.