ASMR as art: How it brings people closer through shared experiences at this Hong Kong exhibition

The ASMR pieces take various forms in the exhibition. Alongside the previously mentioned works, there’s a close-up footage in which American painter Bob Ross—known for his art lessons on TV in the 1980s and 1990s—is painting on the video, and the sound of his brushes on canvas create a therapeutic atmosphere. In other ASMR videos, artists’ whispering voices evoke a tingling sensation in viewers. Some installations are interactive: visitors can sit on recreated bus and MTR seats to experience magnified vibrations and background chatter, inducing a trance-like state.

“For some people, it feels like champagne bubbles tickling down from the scalp to the neck, the shoulders and the back. Some might feel relief, while others might think it’s disgusting—the latter is called a misophonic response, which we might have in reaction to someone whispering, chewing or eating,” says Taylor-Foster.

He says the show is dedicated to “a spectrum of overlooked or suppressed feelings”. “What the show is trying to say is: what if we all come together and think about what that vulnerability of feeling in a public space might look like?”

The exhibition space itself is a testament to this philosophy. Over a kilometre of “sausage pillows” weave through the venue, creating what Taylor-Foster describes as a “highly acoustically tuned environment”, where visitors take off their shoes, step into the large-scale installation and experience ASMR together. The soft architecture intentionally evokes internal organs—perhaps a brain, intestines or skin—creating an immersive environment that feels both familiar and alien.

Also read: Will AI help preserve cultural and artistic conservation and develop sustainable tourism?

“The exhibition tries to create a space where it’s okay to feel [things], even though there might be ten more people in the room,” he says. The interactive nature of the showcase also upends the typical museum experience, which he describes as “very serious. You look at a work of art. You’re not quite sure what to think about it. Then you leave. [In my show,] I’m interested in not only trying to present new forms of creativity but also trying to find new ways of structuring that experience.”

This focus on collective experience represents the show’s underlying commentary on modern isolation. As Taylor-Foster says, “The subtext of the show is the theme of isolation and loneliness. This exhibition bookends the pandemic and at the same time reveals something important about loneliness and new forms of shared intimacy that we’re finding online.”

Five years since the first exhibition, the public perception of ASMR has shifted dramatically. “In 2020, people laughed at ASMR. It was this sort of almost taboo thing,” he says. “It’s much less taboo now. People are a lot more open about it.”

In these few years, ASMR has emerged as a subversive response to our accelerating digital landscape. While smartphones get faster, screens brighter and bandwidth quicker, ASMR content deliberately moves in the opposite direction—embracing slowness, softness and empathy. 

As Hong Kong becomes the latest city to host this experimental exhibition, Taylor-Foster is curious to see how local audiences will respond. Whether visitors are ASMR enthusiasts or newcomers to the concept, it offers an invitation to pause and reconsider not just what art can be, but how we connect with each other in an increasingly isolated world.

NOW READ

Meet the first human to conquer both space flight and Mount Everest

Thai star Jeff Satur on singing with Mirror’s Anson Lo and the rise of T-pop

Visual artist Lauren Tsai on navigating memory, fantasy and reality