Beckoning you in is Pao Pao (the goldfish from Kelly Yu’s Endling) set against a white wall, blocking the exhibition from sight. Being on a plinth, against a stark wall, in a sparse tank, Pao Pao is loneliness in its most raw form. Once recovered from my aquatic animal-related existential crisis, I dutifully read the opening didactic (with a prerequisite Olivia Laing quote on loneliness supplementing the introduction) and finally faced the cavernous hall. ACCA feels almost supernaturally massive inside; a size and scale well suited to an exhibition capitalizing on loneliness, and the inherent connection we all have through those moments.

I’ve written about it before, but I am obsessed with the currently popular style of painting that views things softly, holding them in a blurry state of flux. But this isn’t to say that Melissa is doing what everyone else is doing!! Nguyen has a distinct style and voice in her paintings. From the neon Con Chó (Không Mèo) that greets you at the door, to the body of work around the corner in the main gallery space. Utilising a limited palette that blends into itself, each work becomes even more definite through colour. Hung together, Makamp and Vải Lanh, create a nostalgic and fragmented dialogue with each other. It reminds me of seeing my dad standing in his garden - the light filtering through the leaves, the ground soft beneath our collective feet, a memory hazy through time.  And Pokémon will always remind me of my childhood; playing on the Gameboy with my brother until it was too dark to see the screen anymore - I always picked Charmander as my starter. Reliving memories of the past can fragment them - replaying something and copying it in turn then creates something new.