胶囊｜高源：你无法两次踏入同一个房间

高源：你无法两次踏入同一个房间 Gao Yuan: You Can't Step In the Same Room Twice???????

展期 Dates: 2026.01.17 - 02.28???????

开幕 Opening: 2026.01.17 15:00 - 18:00

地址 Address: 胶囊，上海徐汇区安福路275弄16号1层

Capsule, 1st Floor, Building 16, Anfu Lu 275 Nong, Xuhui District, Shanghai, China

胶囊欣然呈现高源（1986年生于中国昆明，常驻北京）在画廊的第三次个展“你无法两次踏入同一个房间”，展出艺术家最新的绘画作品，以及近年创作的档案资料。展览将于2026年1月17日开幕，持续至2月28日。

在这组纸本丙烯绘画作品中，高源构建的室内空间以生动的细节令人信服——它们必是真实存在的房间，有真实的人在此生活。橱柜下的猫粮盆、边几上的碘伏棉签、工作台电脑旁爆盆的烟灰缸、画架上日积月累的颜料斑驳……被使用、被关照的痕迹无一不指向画面中缺席的栖居者。这正是居住空间的迷人之处——其主人习惯和性情的流露。随着目光贪婪地抚过艺术家笔下事无巨细的物件和陈设，观者不禁构想起此间所容纳的人和事。

Gao Yuan 高源 | The Owner Is Not Home 主人不在家 | 2025 | acrylic on paper 纸上丙烯 | 23 x 41.8 cm; 25.5 x 44.5 cm (framed 含框)

细节强化了真实感，重复则构建了时间性。同样的房间在多件作品中反复出现，以不同的视角、景别和昼夜时分被描绘。物件陈设发生细微差别，光影明暗流转，色彩关系重组。如同日日逗留的熟悉的空间，因时间流逝和人的介入而呈现出别样的面貌。展览的呈现方式更将简单的重复变为有节奏的递进。作品并非一目了然地悬挂于墙面，而是嵌置于特制的木结构中，在展厅中徐徐展开。画面落在变化的位面，交叠错落，引导观者迂回前行，转身回望，或折返重访，在行进过程中与这些居室、盆栽、窗景一次次重逢，仿佛梦境的既视感，或记忆的闪回。

逼真的生活痕迹暗示了人物的存在，场景的昼夜复现隐含着时间的推进。如果人物在时间中的行动与变化即可构成故事，那么这组作品的叙事性因“行动与变化”的未知而显得欲说还休。陈列在木结构展柜中的分镜图为作品的创作动机提供了线索。分镜图来自高源目前仍在持续创作的动画长片《Cloud of the Unknown》，而丙烯绘画作品则是艺术家为该片手绘的背景。

展览中唯一描绘了非居住空间的作品《电影院》（2025）或可被视为一个双关。它本身是动画长片中的场景，画面中的“Cinema”字样亦点明了这组作品的戏剧基因。高源以丰盛的画面和克制的情感提供了恰到好处的引子，令人想象画中即将上演或已然落幕的情节。灯光亮起的空舞台，正因戏梦永不上演而令人遐想雀跃，余味悠长。

Gao Yuan 高源 | Cinema 电影院 | 2025 | acrylic on paper 纸上丙烯 | 23.9 x 41.8 cm; 26.5 x 44.5 cm (framed 含框)

Capsule is pleased to present Gao Yuan’s (b. 1986 in Kunming, China; lives and works in Beijing) third solo exhibition at the gallery, You Can’t Step into the Same Room Twice, featuring the artist’s latest paintings alongside archival materials from her recent years of practice. The exhibition opens on January 17, 2026 and runs through February 28.

In this group of acrylic paintings on paper, Gao Yuan constructs interior spaces with such precision and detail that they seem less imagined than remembered. They must be real rooms, inhabited by real people, or so the viewer infers. Cat bowls tucked beneath a cabinet, iodine swabsticks left on the coffee table, paint stains accumulated on the easel, an ashtray by the computer overflown with a bouquet of cigarette butts… Every trace of use and care gestures toward the absent dweller. The allure of lived-in spaces lies precisely in what they reveal about their occupants’ routines and temperaments. As the eye lingers over each meticulously rendered detail, the people who once moved through these rooms, and the stories they carried with them, begin to surface in the mind.

Detail conjures a sense of reality; repetition constructs the dimension of time. The same rooms recur across multiple works, depicted from shifting perspectives, at varying distances, and in changing times of day. Objects altered ever so slightly, shadows rising and receding, color relationships rearranged… Familiar spaces we linger in day after day are constantly shapeshifting through human intervention and the passing of hours. Rather than meeting the works all at once upon the wall, viewers encounter them gradually as they unfold across custom-built wooden structures throughout the gallery. The paintings rest on changing planes, interlaced and offset, inviting viewers not simply to look, but to meander–to peer across gaps, turn back, and double-take. Rooms, plants, windows and vistas reappear like déjà vu from a half-remembered dream, or the sudden flash of memory that arrives unbidden.

Gao Yuan 高源 | Begonia 秋海棠 | 2025 | acrylic on paper 纸上丙烯 | 23.9 x 41.8 cm; 26.5 x 44.5 cm (framed 含框)

The vivid traces of habitation suggest the presence of characters, while the recurrence of scenes across day and night intimates the passage of time. If characters’ actions across time constitute a story, in this body of work, action is left outside the frames, and therefore narrative is both promised and withheld, suspended in a state of poised potential.

A clue to this suspended storytelling lies in the storyboards displayed within the wooden vitrine. They are drawn for Gao Yuan’s ongoing feature-length animated film Cloud of the Unknown; the acrylic paintings serve as the film’s backgrounds, rendered painstakingly frame by frame. The only work in the exhibition that depicts a non-domestic space, Cinema(2025), reads almost as a double entendre. It is at once a scene from the film itself and a quiet nod to the theatricality nature of all the works on view. 

Visually lush yet emotionally restrained, these paintings offer just enough of a hint to sparkle the imagination—to suggest stories about to unfold, or perhaps already concluded. Where the performance never quite begins, the empty stage becomes the drama–one that beckons, unsettles, and lingers.

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