Archive for May, 2010

Kim Hwan Ki and Yoo Young Kuk at Gallery Hyundai, Bukchon

Wednesday, May 26th, 2010

Opening hours: Tuesday- Sunday 10am- 6pm
Admission: free
Website: www.galleryhyundai.com

I’m pleased to say that this post is regarding two of Korea’s leading abstract artists. I have been feeling guilty that I’ve been concentrating too much on ‘Western’ art, but I can’t help it… what’s on offer is just too tempting! However, this exhibition of Kim Hwan Ki and Yoo Young Kuk’s work caught my eye as I passed by the other day.

Luckily, I’d been to a very informative lecture on Korean Modern Art, given by Dr. Chaeki Freya Synn, Assistant Proffesor of Art at Keimyung University, just the other week, hosted by the Royal Asiatic Society Korea Branch. (These lectures are bi-weekly and really interesting; check them out!) I recognized some of the paintings from her slide show and understood a little bit about the history of these paintings. Both Kim Hwan Ki (1913- 1974) and Yoo Young Kuk (1916- 2002) lived and studied art in Japan during the 1930′s and 40′s, as did many Korean artists in this period of Japanese colonialism. They were influenced by abstract art in Japan as well as Europe and were involved in the setting up of various progressive art groups which rallied against their stuffy, fuddy duddy forbearers. Sound familiar?

Yoo’s 11 works on show hark from the 1980′s and 90′s. They are visual assaults with their bold plains of colour. Red seems to be a favourite and they vibrate off purples, greens and blues. The smallish paintings are abstract in that they strip forms down to to basic geometric patterns, but there is only one work that doesn’t retain clear reference points in nature. However, the shapes of mountains and water are still only evocations, and the harmony and balance of bold plains of colour becomes the primary focus of the works. In ‘Mountain,’ (1993), Yoo reduces a series of mountains to simple forms and colours them in only three different tones of red.

It was Kim’s paintings that I really stole my attention, however. His work on show ranges from the late 60′s and 70′s, at which point he’d settled in New York. Many of the works, like Yoo’s, use plains of colour, except that his are abstract in the true sense that they can’t be easily pinpointed as recognisable forms. Muted greys are brought to life by jagged and awkward lines of pink, red, green and blue. Some paintings are executed on newspaper stuck on canvas and he uses thinned down oil paints on others, so that the weave of the canvas becomes part of the work. The most eye catching pieces for me, are pieces which reflect an individual style he devised during the 70′s, wherein he composes paintings completely of small repeated dots within tiny boxes, all in the same colour. The pieces from this show are ‘Untitled I-VI-70 #174′ done in blue, and ‘Untitled 1970,’ done in a yellow ochre. In her lecture, Dr. Synn had said that each of these individual dots apparently represented a person from his home country that he missed. A lovely touch, I think, to paintings that in all other ways are abstract.

Writing this has highlighted the fact to myself that there is so much that I need to learn about Korean Modern art. There is a lot of critical debate as to just how ‘authentically’ abstract some Korean art which claims to be abstract really is. It has been argued that Korean artists of the 50′s and 60′s became aware of what Jackson Pollock et al were up to by means of readily available magazines such as ‘Time,’ and simply appropriated this new style without any individual blossoming of the technique. I think that often, as an Art History graduate from the UK, I fall victim to the Western art canon and it’s trappings, and find it hard to look at Korean paintings without comparing them to Western counterparts. However, if this exhibition is anything to go by, I’ll definitely be rewarded by further explorations.

Steve McCurry, ‘Unguarded Moment,’ at the Sejong Centre

Monday, May 24th, 2010

 
81-3 Sejong-ro, Jongno-gu
9th April- 30th May
Opening hours: Monday- Saturday 9am- 6pm, closed Sunday
Admission: adults 12,000 won

We’re very lucky at the moment in Seoul to have Steve McCurry’s largest ever solo exhibition, ‘Unguarded Moment,’ showing in the Sejong Centre near Anguk. Steve McCurry is the National Geographic photojournalist who shot to fame when his photograph, ‘Afghan Girl,’ (1984) was published on the front of the magazine. I’m sure that most people will have at least seen this haunting picture of a young refugee girl with arresting green eyes that look out to the viewer and contrast with the rich burgandy of her worn attire. Over 20 years on from the taking of that photograph for which McCurry will always be remembered for, ‘Unguarded Moment,’ presents an incredible overview of his work.

The first thing that is so striking about McCurry’s photos is the subject matter. The photos are predominantly taken in war torn or poverty stricken countries in the Middle East and Asia. McCurry transports the viewer into opium fields and candy factories where young children are at work in Afghanistan. He takes us to oil fields which are ablaze in Kuwait. He takes us to Beirut where children play, carefree and laughing, upon an anti air craft gun on a backdrop of the wartorn city, empty ammunition shells at their feet. He shows us portraits of tired refugees. Most of the photographs have people as their subjects, each with different stories to tell. Tears, old weathered skin, rubble, scars, ragged clothes and desparate eyes tell stories of strife.

Steve McCurry, 'Young Boy, Peru,' (2004)

Steve McCurry, 'Young Boy, Peru,' 2004

‘Young Boy, Peru,’ (2004) has stuck in my head as one of the most upsetting images of the show. A young boy dressed in an old Spiderman T-shirt lets silent tears roll down his face as he holds a gun to his head, looking out with a scared yet defiant gaze. I felt voyeuristic as I looked at ‘A Mother and Child Beg, India,’ (1996). The photo is taken from the interior of a car whilst rain pours outside. A very young woman holding a small baby presses her hand against the streaked glass, looking in with pleading eyes. I had to make an effort to not look away when faced with some of the more upsetting images as I reminded myself that McCurry’s purpose was not to make his audience feel comfortable around these images.

However, some images were more lighthearted. A few photos documented smiling locals going about their daily business during monsoon season in India. I particuarly enjoyed ‘Man with Sewing Machine, India,’ (1983). It portrays a happy old man wading neck deep (!!!) in monsoon waters, floating his rusty but prized sewing machine alongside his head.

Steve McCurry, Kashmir Flower Seller, (1993)

Steve McCurry, Kashmir Flower Seller, 1993

Aside from subject matter, there is no denying that McCurry’s sense of colour and composition add to the striking effects of his photographs. Orange robed monks at Angkor Wat bring to life the mossy brown greens of their surroundings. A procession of pink robed nuns in Burma carry red umbrellas upon a backdrop of an orange house in a rainbow burst. ‘Kashmir Flower Seller,’ (1993), shows a man rowing a wooden boat down a green algae topped river, headed for the horizon with a bounty of the most beautiful array of red, orange, white, yellow and purple flowers. The boat cuts a strong and pleasing diagonal towards the centre of the picture. ‘Boy in Mid-Flight, India, (2007), draws us into a multicoloured maze with the bold composition of a white wall with red handprints, towards a young boy who is skipping off into the maze, in a sort of modern day White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland way.

The fact that these pictures are taken outside make the colours even more astounding in the knowledge that there were no lights or trickeries used to capture them.

I hope I have managed to convey just how special these photographs are. Steve McCurry has taken painstaking efforts driven by his own passion to bring these ‘Unguarded Moments’ to us. These moments which are a million miles away from the setting that they are viewed in. Sad, melancholy, hopeful, desparate, painful, happy and beautiful moments. Each different photo and story begs the questions; where are these people now? What are their fates? Go and find out each picture’s story for yourself. Just be prepared to be put through an emotional mangle.

UrbanArt, who curated the show, also have a handful of Steve McCurry’s photographs on show in their Sinsa gallery if you happen to be in the area. See individual websites for details.

www.urbanart4u.com
www.sejongpac.or.kr
www.mccurrykorea.com

Flower Market at Express Bus Terminal

Tuesday, May 18th, 2010


Opening hours: Daily until 9pm, although many vendors close earlier


Everyday I finish work at 4pm. Lucky, hey? I always feel like I need to do something before I go home, otherwise I end up going stir crazy, and probably sending Danny in a similar direction too, in our boxy little studio apartment. So today, I decided to head to Express Bus Terminal and check out the flower market there that I’d been meaning to for ages.


An open air flower market it isn’t; it’s housed in a strange looking kind of old and dirty concrete monstrosity, which is the bus terminal itself. But make your way up onto the 3rd floor and feast your senses on the lush rainbow splashes of colours and sweet perfumes that the flowers offer. There’s a huge section dedicated to plastic flowers and trees. Yuck! And all means of gaudy, tacky accessories you might want to decorate your flower arrangements with or in, ranging from the norm to just plain weird; plastic and glass beads, ribbons, vases, coloured stones, feathers, sets of wings, letters, sticks with bugs on them, birds in nests, boats, shells, nets, elaborate plant stands and hanging baskets. However, there are some lovely woven baskets of all shapes and sizes. There’s also a fair amount of plastic fruit, cakes and seafood, bizzarely enough. I must admit, I had to indulge in a plastic crab.
 
Loads of the fresh flower stands had closed up for the night by the time I got there. I arrived around 5, so maybe it would be best arriving through the day to see the whole range of what’s on offer. There are rows upon rows of all different kinds and colours of beautiful flowers from ordinary roses to exotic bird of paradise specimens. There’s also a selection of cheap houseplants for sale. I bought four plus an orchid, and it came to under 30,000 won. Bargain! 
 
If you’re on the hunt for a nice bunch of flowers or some house plants, this flower market is worth checking out. Apparently there’s a bigger one in Yangjae… I shall report soon!
 
To get to the Express Bus Terminal Flower Market, alight from either line 7 or 3 at Express Bus Terminal exit 8. Bear right and into the actual terminal, and up onto floor 3.   

Jack Pierson, ‘Night’ at Kukje Gallery

Monday, May 17th, 2010

 
Space 2, 62 Sogyeok-dong, Jongno-gu, Seoul
4th May- 6th June 2010
Opening hours: Monday- Saturday 10am-6pm, Sundays and National Holidays 10am-5pm
Admission: Free

Jack Pierson, 'Movie Star,' 2009

Jack Pierson, 'Movie Star,' 2009

This latest exhibition at Kukje Gallery in Bukchon helps secure this gallery as one of my favourites in Seoul for sure! American artist Jack Pierson (b.1960) presents us with a series of word sculptures composed of a collection of found signage lettering in his show, ‘Night.’ The lettering of all different kinds of fonts, has been taken from old cinemas, hotels, bars, casinos and other businesses; presumably from abandoned enterprises or dumps. He has nailed the letters straight into the gallery wall, and arranged them into words and short phrases which at first may seem flippant, even provocative for the sake of being so. However, ponder these works longer and let the the melancholy, half spoken stories they tell, enter into a discourse with your own thoughts.

The letters are made from wood, plastic and metal; bashed, scratched and rusted. The wear and tear on these sad, worn objects recalls them in opposite states; shiny and new, full of gleaming hope and enthusiasm. They conjure images of a continuous struggle to maintain the American dream, seedy middle of nowhere motels with buzzing lights, old bars, lonely, dusty petrol stations and faded glamour. Images perpetuated through film. The word sculptures are imbued with nostalgia; and I was left wondering what stories of the past these letters keep untold. These letters, once grouped comfortably amongst their brother and sister letters, have been thrust awkwardly together with other orphaned letters, in a style reminiscent of a ransom note. Pierson brings the letters back to life but jolts them into a different and more complex realm, where, out of their original context, perhaps they say more than they did before. They are now slave to a new symbolic system; one tied to history and nostalgia.

The words and phrases Pierson uses are melancholy; ‘Cry,’ ‘Done Dope Died.’ They are optimistic; ‘The Sun Rose.’ They are perhaps cathartic; ‘My Sin.’ They also recall rose tinted memories of bygone days; ‘Old Hollywood Movies,’ ‘Heartbreak Hotel.’ They are all of these things at once. Despite the works being made of simple text, I was thrust into a complex and contradictory dialogue with them, shaped by our own associations.

The more I think about these word sculptures, the more I want to go back and revisit them. Photos don’t do them justice. The biographical scars on the letters are lost as is the soft, sad aura of the works. They are beautiful. Go see for yourself.

www.kukjegalley.com

Sunday Fillipino Market, Hyehwa

Friday, May 14th, 2010
Fillipino Market, Hyehwa

Fillipino Market, Hyehwa

One of the things that I love about Seoul is the small but thriving communities of other nationalities. Nationalities that don’t fall straight into the category of Americans, Canadians, Irish or British who are here to teach English. The weekly Sunday Fillipino Market at Hyehwa, one stop north of Dongdaemun, is one such example of a bustling foreign community in Korea’s capital.

 
The market is made up of a handful of street stalls set up outside the Hyehwa Catholic Church where a Fillipino priest holds mass every Sunday. There are vendors selling fantastic Fillipino street food alongside other Fillipino neccessities such as San Miguel and Red Horse beer, coconut milk, mango juice, tinned sardines, live fish flipping around wide eyed in centimetre deep water, loads of dried mung beans (yum!) and toiletries. But what got me most excited was the abundance of egg tarts. There was a period in my life when I’d eat at least one egg tart a day from the deli I worked in. I’m sure that my hips are glad to see the back of these days but my love for egg tarts remains insatiable. The ones available in Paris baguette and KFC just do not cut it, so I’m so happy that I now know where to go to get my fix. 2,000 won for a big slice. Bargain!
 

The market is relatively small and has a really friendly atmosphere. Most worth it if you want to saok some of this up, or if you regard mung beans and egg tarts as life essentails like I do. Get yourself to Hyehwa Station on line 4 and leave by exit 1. Walk straight, past the rotary and you’ll see the church up to your right. The market is open every Sunday from 9-5.

Spot the egg tarts, Fillipino Market, Hyehwa

Spot the egg tarts, Fillipino Market, Hyehwa

Maya Deren at i-gong

Monday, May 10th, 2010

 

Maya Deren

Maya Deren

There have been numerous occassions already during my short stint in Seoul when I have been totally overjoyed at finding some really good shows which I wouldn’t neccessarily have expected to see. The Maya Deren retrospective at i-gong in Hongdae is one such case. Since reading about this somewhat obscure and exciting avant garde film maker, writer, dancer, poet and theorist of the 1940′s and 50′s in my rapidly distancing under-grad days, I’d only managed to watch her most famous short film, ‘Meshes of the Afternoon,’ (1943-59). It certainly made an impression on me, which is why I was so excited to see it again along with her other short films, Martina Kudlacek’s 2005 documentary on her, and some contemporary international short films which drew influence frorm her absolutely beautiful, thoughtful and symbol laden films, which magically weave together themes of time, a post modern fragmentation of the self, upset equilibriums, rituals and classical forms.

I watched the documentary ‘In the Mirror of Maya Deren’ after watching all of the films that Maya had directed. It’s a sensetive portrayal of a passionate, serious and determined woman with candid interviews from former friends, her first husband Alexander Sasha Hammid who collaborated with her on some of her early films and her old employer, dancer/ anthropologist, Katherine Dunham of Katherine Dunham Dance Company fame. The film reiterated themes I had picked out from her films and consolidated them. It also contained audios of Maya speaking about her work and a really cool recording of her singing a bluesy song that just went, “I got stones in my head, I got pebbles in my bed…” in her syrupy seductive purr, that has been stuck in my head ever since. I really got the sense of how she had an almost bewitching effect on many people who came across her, and now I too, even through the misty veils of second hand experience, feel enraptured by her spell!

All of her films were shot in black and white, and there is no spoken word in any of them. ‘At Land,’ (1944), ‘A Study In Choreography for the Camera,’ (1945) ‘Ritual and Transfigured Time,’ (1946), and ‘Private Life of a Cat,’ (1947), are silent, emphasising the graceful forms depicted, which are commonly depicted through the medium of dance. Movements are often slowed down, paused or reversed in an effort to reveal the structure of motion, which are full of what she describes as “pulsations, agonies, indecisions and repititions.” Her hommage to Classical Greek forms is made most blatantly in ‘Ritual…’ where four performers dance their own steps which are occassionally paused mid movement, in a garden amongst perfectly sculpted statues.
Maya Deren, 'Meshes of the Afternoon,' film

Maya Deren, 'Meshes of the Afternoon,' film

”Meshes of the Afternoon,’ (1943-59), ‘Meditation on Violence,’ (1948), and ‘The Very Eye of Night,’ (1952-9) all have ritualistic tribal sounding musical accompaniments, emphasising her preoccupation on voodoo and ritual which she explored fully during her four visits to Haiti. The cinematic fruits of these visits were edited by her second husband and musical collaborator, Teiji Ito, to make ‘Divine Horsemen: The Living Gods of Haiti,’ (1985). The musical accompaniments themselves are wonderful and are works of art in their own right. They provide intrinsic rhythm to what’s happening on screen whether it be a bang of a drum to signify a short but confusing jump in time, as in ‘Meshes…’ or a flute played on an Eastern musical scale to emphasise the perfect balance and inner calm of the Wu Tang theories as physically demonstrated in ‘Meditation…’

Her films have a nervous, confusing air to them, and she takes a lead from Duchamp and his allies in conveying fragmented and disjointed dream-like, or even nightmarish narratives. In ‘Meshes…’ Maya is caught up in a distorted cycle of trying to catch up with a hooded figure, going back into her house and up the stairs and falling asleep, until three Mayas all sit round a table, suspiciously eyeing eachother up, before her husband reveals himself as the hooded figure. In ‘At Land…’ Maya awakens on a beach, pulls herself up and over some driftwood into another realm where a dinner party is taking place. She drags herself down the long table and follows some fallen chess pieces back down onto the beach. At one point in this film, as she runs, a close up is shown of her feet. Three steps are shown; one in a house, the next in some grass and the last back in the dinner party, upsetting depictions of time and space.
Maya Deren 'The Very Eye of Night,' film still

Maya Deren 'The Very Eye of Night,' film still

‘The Very Eye…’ was her last finished cinematic effort, and the one which I remember most vividly. It could be described as a sort of celestial ballet; white negative forms of ballet dancers float across a blackened screen with sparkling stars, in and out of shot. It is thoroughlly enjoyable as a simple abstraction of graceful and fluid shapes on a black background although it is much more than that. It sums up most perfectly in my mind what Maya wanted; not to recount a story, but to leave the viewer with images or even auras of the films.
Maya Deren prided herself on the fact that she made her films for what Hollywood spent on lipstick. Repelling from the Joan Crawford and Bette Davis type actresses, she chose to make films which celebrated the human body but embraced abstraction, and echoed the unsure, anxious feelings of modern times which can still be related to today. She had started out as a poet but felt that she expressed herself much better through the medium of film. Personally, I’m so glad that she made this shift and that we still have some of the most influential films to come out of the 20th century to enjoy. Thank you so much to i-gong for bringing Maya into my life!
i-gong will be showing a Yoko Ono retrospective next! Hooray!

Inwangsan

Thursday, May 6th, 2010
 
This magical little hillside area of Inwangsan, just north of Anguk is hardly a secret; it’s listed in the Lonely Planet as one of two recommended walks in Seoul. However, after my first venture up this beautiful hillside I just had to put it in here as one of my favourite haunts. It’s a lovely mini escape from Seoul that affords a great view over it too. It can be steep in places, so beware! If it’s dry and dusty like it was for me, you’ll be navigating some downward paths by hunching down and skidding on your feet, or maybe by bumping down on your derriere. Only in the most elegant of fashions, of course!
 
The hillside itself is like a dreamy Korean landscape; soft, streaky, very noble looking, yellow grey rock faces and deep green pines scrabbling to bury their spindly toes into the dusty peach earth. At this time of year too, with all the azaleas and cherry blossoms, it’s especially picturesque. Easily accessible from Dongnimmun subway, you will begin to ascend the hill past a collection of depressing identikit apartments into a far more serene environment. Follow the path up past a Shamanist temple and bronze bell, where people have left offerings of magkeolli (rice wine) and sweets (lucky spirits!). Thereafter, follow the path to the left and past occassional collections of bizarre looking stand alone rock formations which have been eroded oddly to give them the appearance of swiss cheese. You will be faced with a choice of paths that will then wind you round the hillside. We passed a number of people chanting Shamanist mantras and ringing small bells whilst undertaking a ritualistic ripping and binding of white cotton, which embues even more magic into the atmosphere of Inwangsan. Whilst scrambling up the rocks, you are treated to amazing views south over Seoul. A perfect location to play spot the landmark in!
 
We followed the fortress wall back down the hill and the walk only took two hours, so this is what I mean when I say it’s a perfect mini escape from Seoul. You could choose to follow the wall further up and into Inwangsan, which I will definitely be doing at some point in the near future. The best thing about this walk is that within 10 minutes of leaving the subway, you are transported into a landscape that looks like it could have been lifted from a traditional silk mounted ink drawing, yet are looking down onto the sprawling metropolis below. 
 
Take line 3 to Dongnimmun and exit by exit 2. Turn into the first alley on the left and it’s straight forward from there. Don’t forget your camera!