On Angels — A Reflection on Hsieh Chun-Te’s Brave the World

By Juan Yuen-Yue (Professor of Art and Design, Yuan Ze University)

In Brave the World, his large-scale exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art Taipei, Hsieh Chun-Te turns his focus to the aging society and the growing presence of dementia, particularly Alzheimer’s disease. He invites several notable public figures to participate. The exhibition expands far beyond Hsieh’s well-established photographic practice, integrating documentary film, high-speed video, and installation art—evidence of his desire to weave a broad and multifaceted visual discourse.

What struck me most throughout the exhibition was the strong and recurring use of the angelic image. This ties directly to Hsieh’s long-held fascination with the idea of the “parallel universe.” Yet both concepts—angels and parallel realities—remain elusive. What do they truly signify in his work? This requires deeper reflection.

When Hsieh first described his impressions of individuals with dementia, he said:

“They always seem to smile. Like angels, they float around me. Everything feels clean, purified. That was my first impression.”

To reframe what is typically seen as tragic or degrading—the “ill”—into something positive and transcendent—the “angel”—is astonishing. Hsieh suggests that perhaps these individuals are not simply patients, but messengers on undisclosed missions, spirits living in another temporal dimension. His stance reframes the narrative of dementia entirely, moving it from medical diagnosis to metaphysical possibility.

This perspective transcends the boundaries of art or social empathy. It gestures toward a cosmology—an intersection of theology, philosophy, and speculative science. It is not just an exhibition; it is an articulation of Hsieh’s metaphysical worldview.

So, what is a “parallel universe”?

In physics, the term often refers to the multiverse theory—a speculative hypothesis suggesting the existence of other universes outside our own, with potentially different physical laws. The term was first coined by William James in 1895. While such theories remain unprovable within current scientific parameters, they open up fertile territory for philosophical or theological exploration.

Thus, in Brave the World, the presence of angels becomes not only poetic, but inevitable. The angel, from a Judeo-Christian context, is a “messenger” (malak in Hebrew)—a being dispatched with divine purpose. According to Paul Enns in The Moody Handbook of Theology, “As messengers of God, angels are heavenly beings entrusted with missions from the divine.”

This is how Hsieh chooses to view those whom society deems as “patients.” He refuses to define them by their pathology. Instead, he envisions them as beings “entrusted by heaven,” endowed with unseen missions. He does not try to explain these missions, nor does he define their meaning—but perhaps that is precisely the point. It is not for us to decipher.

Rather, Hsieh turns his gaze to another set of messengers—human ones. The artists, scholars, and elders who appear in his works are chosen because he sees in them a certain “brave calling.” Their lives become symbolic vehicles for exploring the presence of human “messengers” in this time and world.

Through their embodied participation, Hsieh seeks to demonstrate that those who live with integrity—who pursue a unity of existence, action, and spirit—can also serve as messengers. They bear witness to the meaning of fleeting life. In doing so, he honors both the known and the unknown, the visible and the metaphysical.

What, then, defines such a “messenger”?

Mystic writer John of Ruusbroec, in The Seven Rungs, describes a third type of person who dwells in unity with God:

“Here, we live by God and for God. God lives in us, and we in Him. This is a vibrant life within, transcending hope and faith, above the practice of virtues. It is one—its being, its life, its work.”

This vision of unity—between being, life, and action—seems to be Hsieh’s ideal for the human “messenger.” Brave the World becomes a visual theology: a meditation on those who live consciously, spiritually aligned with their existence.

And why are these individuals chosen by Hsieh? Perhaps because they—like Ruusbroec’s third type—do not require faith, grace, or moral achievement to perceive the divine. Their being is already attuned. Their bodies and actions testify to something sacred.

The use of angelic imagery here is not mere aesthetics. It signals a spiritual shift—one that redefines the meaning of being chosen, the weight of mission, and the sanctity of aging. But the exhibition offers no firm answers. The angels appear, but we never hear the message. The sender remains unnamed.

In this way, Hsieh’s work leaves open a metaphysical space. The “black warrior” performed by Jin Shih-Chieh in Witch 1×10 evokes darker forces—perhaps death, desire, or the underworld—unspoken yet deeply present. The dialectic of light and dark, angel and demon, is suspended in midair, unresolved.

To view Brave the World is to engage with Hsieh’s lifelong artistic journey. One must follow his past works and anticipate his future ones to fully grasp his evolving universe. What he now explores is no longer confined to art—it is an expanding personal cosmology.

Thus, Brave the World is the beginning of Hsieh Chun-Te’s angelic discourse. His construction of the “parallel universe” is far from complete—it continues to unfold, inviting us to think, to wonder, and perhaps to believe.