Koh trades similarly on rumors, conspicuously and consistently shifting the “facts” about his place and date of birth, and the intentions (or lack thereof) in his work. He and the things he makes swirl around in a black hole of meaning in which it’s ever so hard to defy gravity in extracting truth. Thus, what might otherwise serve as mere oversized coke mirrors, in his work double as reflective invitations for viewers to project their own meanings, mythologies, and narratives. Hegemonic, queer, the choice is yours…. Therefore, something as simple as a hole in the floor can become an anus, a rabbit hole, a wormhole, the whole world. Koh invites speculation, even as his assemblages come preloaded with heavily coded, readymade interpretations.
     In the cinematic era of the French Noveau Vague, there was a practice that Andre Bazin calls “criticism by beauty” in which anyone who felt they were missing something in a film declared its maker masterful, for fear of admitting that he didn’t get it. Never mind the possibility that the filmmaker was a poor storyteller. This is a total “Emperor Has No Clothes” moment, and it takes on various guises across the pages of the art history books. The interesting twist here is that Koh is most often stark naked, and the art (and fashion) world is rushing to dress him.