Art critic and CCS Bard faculty member Dawn Chan has spent recent years testing what it means to stay present in a global cultural scene without boarding a plane. Her approach grew from a personal moment of reckoning during an extreme weather event that flooded her mother’s basement in 2023, prompting her to reconsider the everyday trade-offs of frequent air travel for work. Rather than stepping away from the conversations and exhibitions that shape her field, Chan began exploring inventive ways to participate from closer to home. The result is a quiet but persistent experiment in how one person can remain connected to far-flung art events while aligning daily choices with larger environmental concerns. ([1])
A Research Project Born from Everyday Life
Chan’s decision to stop flying for art-world commitments did not arrive as a sudden declaration. It emerged gradually as she weighed the convenience of quick flights against the longer chain of consequences those trips set in motion. The flooded basement served as an immediate, physical reminder that climate impacts are no longer abstract. At the same time, she recognized that many colleagues face structural pressures that make similar choices difficult or impossible. Her project therefore began as a personal inquiry rather than a prescription for others.
By documenting both the invitations she received and the alternatives she proposed, Chan turned refusal into a visible part of her professional record. Each entry on her updated CV notes what was offered and how the event ultimately took shape without her physical presence. This practice reframes absence not as a loss but as an opportunity to redirect resources toward emerging voices who might benefit more directly from the same platform.
Creative Proxies and Unexpected Collaborations
One of the most distinctive elements of Chan’s approach has been her willingness to send stand-ins when direct attendance is not possible. She has explored hiring a local lawyer to speak on her behalf, suggested co-authoring reviews with regional critics, and even collaborated with another artist who shares her name and is based in Europe. These proxies are not meant to replicate her exact voice but to keep ideas in circulation while she remains grounded.
A particularly fruitful partnership developed with curator Zeynep Öz for programming tied to the Sharjah Biennial. Instead of a conventional remote talk, the two arranged an experimental lecture that blended recorded segments of Chan’s voice with live delivery by scholar Christianna Bonin on site. Audience members later remarked on the distinctive rhythm the hybrid format created. The experience underscored how giving up a measure of control can open space for fresh interpretations and shared authorship.
Connecting Personal Choices to Broader Artistic Lineages
Chan situates her methods within a longer history of conceptual practices that use repetition, delegation, and performance to question norms. References to artists such as Tehching Hsieh and collaborative traditions help colleagues recognize the project as an extension of familiar artistic strategies rather than an abrupt departure. By framing refusal this way, she invites others to consider how small, repeated actions might gradually shift expectations around mobility and presence.
The work also highlights questions of access and privilege. Chan notes that many people cannot travel freely because of disability, visa restrictions, or other barriers. Her experiment therefore serves as one data point in a larger conversation about who gets to move through the world and whose presence is most urgently needed in certain rooms. It is an invitation to examine collective habits rather than a claim of individual virtue.
Small Shifts That Accumulate Over Time
Alongside her own refusals, Chan points to institutional efforts already underway that make sustainability feel ordinary rather than exceptional. Museums and biennials are testing new protocols for temperature control, artwork transport, and event design that reduce emissions without diminishing the quality of the experience. These behind-the-scenes adjustments demonstrate that thoughtful change can coexist with the continued vitality of cultural exchange.
Chan’s project ultimately asks what it means to show up for art and for place in an era when both require careful attention. By treating each invitation as a chance to test alternatives, she models a form of engagement that values presence in multiple senses of the word. The approach remains open-ended, more gesture than manifesto, yet it quietly expands the range of what feels possible for anyone who cares about both culture and the communities that sustain it.
AI Disclaimer: This article was created with the assistance of AI tools and reviewed by a human editor.