She spent too long watching pandas. Then this artist had a cute idea

The study of art has long been an inquiry into the nature of beauty, a serious undertaking that stretches back at least to the philosophers of Ancient Greece. It’s a safe bet Aristotle never praised a painted urn as sooooo cuuuute.

Yet cuteness is one of the defining aesthetics of our age. US cultural theorist Sianne Ngai has written a whole book on it, arguing that we can understand the appeal of artists ranging from Andy Warhol to Takashi Murakami via the sense of non-threatening minor-ness that their works often convey. And cuteness sells: think of the rounded edges and friendly hues of Apple products, or the childlike names of massive entities such as Google or TikTok.

Japan’s appreciation for the cute (kawaii) is well known, but in China adorability is just as mainstream. Artist Ran Chen began delving into the unconscious dynamics of cuteness during pandemic lockdowns. Day after day she found herself searching for panda videos, a pursuit that left her feeling “half joyful, half guilty”.

Ran Chen found herself searching for panda videos, a pursuit that left her feeling “half joyful, half guilty”.

When she moved to Europe that shame was amplified. “I found the concept of cuteness was really bad here. Maybe because I was in art school. In art school everyone wants to do something meaningful, and you have to prove what you are doing is urgent for society. If I did this project in China I wouldn’t need to explain it.”

That project was a series of “cute lab” workshops in which Chen tried to pin down exactly what makes something cute (and other things not). The results are explored in Tiny, Fluffy, Sweet, a performance that’s part of this year’s Asia TOPA triennial.

The show begins at the same point Chen did: pandas. Despite their centrality in China today, the first illustrations of pandas date only to the 19th century. Chen says Tiny, Fluffy, Sweet is in part a history of how media has shifted its focus over the past 100 years, partly explaining how an icon virtually absent from visual culture for millennia has now become ubiquitous.

Gradually the show shifts to include Chen’s personal story. When her father developed cancer, she found cute images and videos became a way for them to share levity despite the weight of his condition.

Tiny, Fluffy, Sweet also keys into the ambivalence that cuteness can engender. Chen’s cute labs revealed how Europeans frequently associate cute things with weakness or childishness. “They really think cuteness is diminutive or subordinate. It’s not independent or strong.”

Even when it’s intended as praise, there’s still something slightly dismissive to the term. “Cute is not beautiful and it’s not grotesque. It’s in between. If it’s beautiful you’ll say wow, it’s fantastic, it’s fabulous. But if it’s a little bit different than beautiful then you will say it’s cute.”

During the development of Tiny, Fluffy, Sweet, Chen found she shared firsthand experience of the reductive side of cuteness with one of her collaborators. “When we were at school … we were treated like cute kids. We attracted attention because of cuteness. But when we think about it, we will feel sometimes it’s not very comfortable for us, actually, to be treated as a cute pet or to be treated as a cute thing.”

One theory of the cute is that we’re hardwired to want to protect things that remind us of childish vulnerability. “There’s something related to neuroscience. It’s about baby schemas,” says Chen. “When an infant has a rounded face and big eyes, then people will feel it’s cute. It will attract more attention from adults.”

Over the course of her research, though, Chen has shifted away from studying cuteness as something objective. “Cute is a human projection. It’s an emotional projection. It’s not an inherent quality of something in itself. It’s not because pandas are cute or monkeys are cute or not. It’s only because I feel they’re cute.”

If you’re going to stake your claim on cuteness, might as well put your money where your mouth is: Chen’s show will also see the artist making fairy floss for her audience. It’s the olfactory equivalent of a cute video, she says, offering a hit of sensation with no aftertaste: “[Fairy floss] is quite big and fluffy, but when you taste it, it’s like nothing. It’s only sweet on your tongue. It’s similar to my personal feeling when I watch those videos. You spend time, you spend energy to look for them, but it’s just something tiny and sweet.”

Tiny, Fluffy, Sweet is at Arts Centre Melbourne from February 21 as part of Asia TOPA; https://www.asiatopa.com.au/