In the depths of Hampstead Heath stands an oak tree whose sharp incline gives it the appearance of falling in slow motion. For those frequenting the park for cruising, it is more familiarly known as the “Fuck Tree”, a supportive structure upon which to have sex whose bark has been polished smooth from decades of use. (The tree has become something of a totemic object in cruising lore, becoming the site of This Is My Culture, an annual free party in tribute to George Michael, who was ambushed by a paparazzo while cruising in the area.) In Trevor Yeung’s new show Soft conch at Aranya Art Center in the seaside resort of Beidaihe, China (until 2 March), the artist recreates the tree from soap. Titled Soapy F-Tree, its ferrous, musky scent pervades the space and stages a subtle but undeniable olfactory penetration. The work is staged in a grey room illuminated by purple light, suggestive of daybreak, a time of day imbued with a quiet, transient possibility. The gallery floor is covered with lightly perfumed sand carried into the gallery from the town’s beach, grounding the work within the seaside resort while reinforcing the interplay between nature and human intervention.

As with his work in the 2024 Venice Biennale that featured a series of fishless aquariums reminiscent of those found in Chinese seafood restaurants, Soapy F-Tree is similarly concerned with notions of absence and social architecture. Soap as a medium echoes the smoothing of the Fuck Tree’s surface from skin contact, while responding to cultural narratives surrounding gay male sexuality, often coded as inherently “dirty”. Yet the fragility of soap as a medium – how its use necessitates its own disappearance – encourages the viewer to consider human intervention on the natural more broadly, as well as the delicate imprint of connection upon objects and spaces. An accompanying photograph in the show, which depicts the merger of two stalactites across millennia, suggests the endurance of desire across decades of interaction. Intimacy may be precarious, fleeting, yet its traces are etched onto our environment, shaping that which we leave behind. Matteo Pini