Small Delights in Uncertain Waters Devon Chen’s Happy Islands
By Lillyan Ling, March 24, 2026
Devon Pin-Yu Chen’s debut solo exhibition, Happy Islands, resides in the basement of Nguyen Wahed, an austere space situated behind heavy cellar doors, with painted brick walls and concrete flooring, just large enough to house the “happy islands” in question. The initial sensation is that of stumbling upon a clearing aglow with hodgepodge misfits in an otherwise dark and unassuming cavern — a certain joy is inspired by the ceramics’ uneven forms, bright palettes, and etchings of cartoonish creatures. Stare at them for longer, and the wobbly outlines and gaping circle eyes begin to impart a sense of awkwardness paying heed to a murky something-in-the-air. Still, beneath focused lighting, they sit resolutely as objects of levity and resiliency.
Chen’s ceramic works range from playfully crude cups and bowls to funky tableaus and decorated slabs. Colorful mugs of decreasing sizes are stacked askew, as two-headed snakes with pokey tongues swim across a large lavender basin. Other not-quite-cups and not-quite-bowls beg for a second take with their warped forms and missing bottoms. Flat pieces display checkerboard patterns with rudimentary mouse heads slathered in black paint. The bulk of these objects sit on a table constructed of metal sheets, reminiscent of practical restaurant surfaces popular in Taiwan, where Chen is from. A pair of life-size mahogany boots rests on its own platform separate from the main table, along with another cup and a goblet of fiery hues.
Chen, an islander herself, points to a particular contemporary Taiwanese sensibility with her work — to be happy with the upfront, smaller delights of life (like anime and boba, she suggests), while fully aware of the substantial political and social uncertainty looming in the background. To be happy, in this context, is not a belittling activity. For her, these islands are beacons of relief in that wide, unknown sea. Chen finds that engaging with what is immediately playful can serve as meaningful distraction to the impending questions at large — questions that seem overwhelmingly unanswerable to the isolated individuals that they concern. Fabricating these works is enacting the very principle they propose. Jagged shapes and colors bleeding past their drawn boundaries reflect circumstances outside of one’s control, and such freedom inspires both carefreeness and a shaky sort of anxiety.
Untitled (Cat in Shock)
Island with Whale
Stationery goods often are featured as such throughout the exhibition. In Eraser Made a Painting cup, a square-handled mug bears the imprint of an eraser that Chen habitually kneaded during class lectures. metal pencil case features the etched outline of a childhood pencil on a free-floating wall form. Memorable for its mortifying clatter and its frequently spilled contents, the pencil case is personified with a straight-lined mouth on its leftmost compartment. Many of the faces across Chen’s pieces wear this same line-smile, suggesting discomfiture and an uneasy state of mind.
In Island with Whale, a bright orange whale breaks the surface of a crackled aquamarine sea. Attached to its body are bear and rabbit faces with thick, blank smiles. Tethered to this greater being, these characters are subjected to the whims of the whale and ocean currents, existing in a free-floating state. Every face seems partially “fine,” partially unsure, asking “What am I doing here?” or simply stating, “Here I am, in this world.”
What appears to be a thickly rimmed black plate is in fact a circular landscape of flat plateaus threaded with pastel blue roads winding to-and-fro. Highway to Where evokes the feeling of driving through an endless series of twisting highways to who-knows-where. Chen remarks on the experience of driving aimlessly while glancing far out to the billboards in the distance. The wandering roads are met by a stiff pole molded near the center of the piece. Where the billboard’s face should be, a toppled cup stands in its place — symbolizing advertisements that promise the well-being of the ideal family.
Chen says that she used to approach her work with an “installation mindset,” considering how pieces might function collectively within a space. This collection, however, is more concise — each work contains its own story, conjuring separate memories and distinct emotions. Each exists like an island among neighboring islands in restless waters with currents larger than ourselves. Chen however, does not wish for her works to convey chaos or cynicism, but to offer small glimmers of hope. In the face of a particularly snowy and cold winter, Happy Islands provides tropical relief, offering a sense of warmth and buoyancy. If it is the little things that keep us afloat, it is at the cost of remaining in a floating state — adrift, looking for islands to cling onto. But floating, at least, keeps us from drowning, and . . . it can be fun.
