Jantsankhorol's "Vigousse" (2016) (Photo: courtesy the artist)
Cover Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar’s ‘Vigousse’ (2016) (Photo: courtesy of Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar)

Ahead of Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar’s debut at Art Basel Hong Kong, he and his mother and fellow artist, Mugi, share how their artworks are visual metaphors that draw from the country’s nomadic and diverse heritage

The Mongolian death worm, also known as the Olgoi-Khorkhoi or the “large intestine worm”, is prevalent in Mongolian folklore. Hiding mostly in the desert, the creature is said to surreptitiously navigate the land beneath the sand dunes. It releases a lethal poison that instantly kills anyone who dares to touch it. Even now, many people believe it dwells in the Gobi Desert. 

The cryptid recurs in Mongolian artist Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar’s sculptures, its elusive nature serving as a metaphor for ideas that are abstract and intangible but are given form through belief. The artist draws from local folktales and mythology, his interest stemming from the fact “that even if people know [myths and legends] aren’t true, they choose to believe and follow the narratives of these scenarios. I’m interested in how stories survive.”

The stories are passed down from generation to generation. Jantsankhorol explores this form of survival by incorporating elements from the tales into his work, referencing creatures, characters or plots. He crafts sculptures out of found natural objects such as goat horns or discarded wood. These materials at once reference both the local landscape and nomadic culture, as well as the current context of the nation facing mass consumption and resource scarcity, issues that come with becoming part of a globalised economy.

Mongolia is home to many nomadic cultures which emphasise the importance of passing down customs via oral traditions. But from 1920 to 1990, while the country was under a communist regime, many customs from the reign of the Mongolian Empire as well as Buddhist traditions and teachings were forbidden, creating a cultural gap in Mongolian history. It was only after the democratic revolution in the 1990s that the idea of “Mongolian identity” was forged. Jantsankhorol’s sculptures serve as visual metaphors for the nation’s current cultural climate, in which this identity is still in flux and being shaped. 

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Photo 1 of 4 Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar (Photo: Gunsen Khurelchuluun)
Photo 2 of 4 Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar’s “Vigousse-3” (2024) (Photo: courtesy of the artist)
Photo 3 of 4 Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar’s “Reinvigoration (hand with 3 horns)” (2024) (Photo: courtesy of the artist)
Photo 4 of 4 Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar’s “Pompous or Omnicompetent” (2023) (Photo: courtesy of the artist)

His works will be on view at Art Basel Hong Kong, where Middle Child, a solo booth presentation with Flowers Gallery, highlighting his assemblage-like sculptures that hint at medieval relics, with their raw, rustic aesthetic. The structure of one of the works, a cast-bronze piece called Vigousse (2016), was inspired by the death worm. The artist replaced the worm’s head with a plaster cast of an ear he found at the Mongolian Academy of Fine Arts, where he taught from 2015-17 and 2022-23. In another sculpture, the Distance of Deepness (2015), the artist crafted a mythical creature, inspired again by the worm, out of layers of cardboard and ox horns. 

It is unsurprising that Jantsankhorol decided to choose a career in art and that his work alludes to traditional folklore. He grew up hearing these stories, and both his mother Munkhtsetseg Jalkhaajav (also known as Mugi) and father Erdenebayar Monkhor are well-known artists. Jantsankhorol and his mother speak to Tatler from their large studio in Ulaan Baatar, which all three currently share. Jantsankhorol says elements of each other’s ideas are subconsciously absorbed through osmosis, while generational differences make for different experiences that inform their distinctive practices.

For instance, Mugi grew up during the socialist regime, at a time when “getting to know your own tradition was forbidden”, she says, adding that “if someone was injured, traditional therapists were hidden and would go help cure people without letting others know”. She recounts how, when her parents went to work, she would stay with her grandmother, who told her folktales. “Religious, Buddhist topics in particular were not allowed to be spoken about. When she [my grandmother] told these stories, I felt like they were coming through a secret channel, which made them all the more appealing.”

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Munkhtsetseg Jalkhaajav, also known as “Mugi” (Photo: Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar)
Above Munkhtsetseg Jalkhaajav, also known as “Mugi” (Photo: Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar)
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Mugi’s soft  sculpture installations at the 2022 Venice Biennale (Photo: Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar)
Above Mugi’s soft sculpture installations at the 2022 Venice Biennale (Photo: Jantsankhorol Erdenebayar)

Mugi says this secretive, mystical appeal was an indirect way of setting her up for a life in art. Among a large, diverse body of work, she is best known for her soft, metallic sculptures, which most notably were on view at the Mongolian Pavilion at the 2022 Venice Biennale. In works like Self Creation (2011), which depicts a woman with seemingly severed body parts stitched together, she addresses ideas of healing. Piecing together fragmented parts also applies to her collages, in which she tears paper into pieces and then reassembles the pieces, signifying the possibility and beauty of healing processes, whether physical, emotional or spiritual. She often references traditional Buddhist medicine and remedial practices. To further emphasise the concept of mending, she draws from often traumatic personal experiences, such as in her Miscarriages series, which address her experience of losing an unborn child before she was pregnant with Jantsankhorol. 

“Making the work was a kind of therapy in dealing with that experience,” the artist says of Miscarriages. “When I share what I know and experience, it becomes a point of connection for others.” She finds power and purpose in using her experience and art to address collective trauma. “Collectively we live in a broken society, especially spiritually and mentally, and my childhood years were spent during a time when we experienced this. Through my work, I feel like I’m not only healing my spiritual self, but healing the time period of the past as well.” 

Jantsankhorol aims to remedy the past in his own way. Having completed his BA and MFA in the US, he returned to Mongolia to continue working on his artistic practice and taught at the Mongolian Academy of Fine Arts. For Jantsankhorol, the ear is representative of the very Soviet-influenced curriculum that is still taught at the academy. “There are still remnants of the old society among us, which becomes visible when people have conflicts with political ideologies that sometimes come up in conversation,” says the artist of his time teaching at the academy, where the conception of art was based on a socialist-influenced mode of teaching that emphasises technical skill. “The older faculties had differences of opinion. There’s a lot of unlearning and relearning that needs to happen.” 

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Installation view of Jantsakhorol’s "Tall Grass" at the 2019 Venice Pavilion (Photo: courtesy the artist)
Above Installation view of Jantsakhorol’s “Tall Grass” at the 2019 Venice Pavilion (Photo: courtesy of the artist)
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Jantsankhorol’s "Companion" at the Mongolia pavilion for  the 2019 Venice Biennale (Photo: courtesy the artist)
Above Jantsankhorol’s “Companion” at the Mongolia pavilion for the 2019 Venice Biennale (Photo: courtesy of the artist)

Jantsankhorol represented Mongolia at the 2019 Venice Biennale. His exhibition, A Temporality, enmeshed the past and present, and involved numerous site-specific installations. Many of them were made using polyurethane foam, a modern, artificial material that contrasts with the natural materials he fused them with to create his otherworldly contemporary relics. While the polyurethane seems to cover and oppress the natural materials, the latter push through, in subtle or blatant ways. The artist views this as a metaphor for resistance—“through and by absorbing [the artificial], the natural materials resist and still exist”. Like the death worm and other mythical stories, they might not be visible, but their influence through the ages can’t be overstated. Ideas of resistance are at the crux of Jantsankhorol’s work, articulated through his use of horn. He contrasts its strong qualities—protective, symbolic of power, endurance, and even authority and aggression—with fragility. “It’s also the most vulnerable part of animals. For me, it [a horn] implies time. It gradually weathers and endures. That’s a kind of resistance also.” 

Through his creative process, Jantsankhorol turns concepts and narratives that elude absolute definition into tangible, physical artworks. There’s a sense of timeless continuity in the practices of the artist and his parents. “The use of metaphor to make sure what we know lives on is what intrigues me. Every day, we hold and accumulate knowledge, but over time that shifts, grows, changes; it gets forgotten and reemerges.” 

This form of resistance, channelled through artistic endeavours, ensures the persistence of generational memory even when Mongolian society is undergoing rapid changes. It’s one way of keeping traditional folklore and beliefs alive, allowing them to transform and adapt to fit contemporary times.

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