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MOVE: Art and Dance since the 1960s

Wednesday, July 11th, 2012

6 June – 12 August, 2012
National Museum of Contemporary Art, Korea
Opening hours: Tuesday – Friday, 10:00-18:00; Saturday– Sunday, 10:00-21:00
Admission: 4,000 won
www.moca.go.kr

by Andy St. Louis

**This review originally appeared in ELOQUENCE Magazine (July 2012)

The National Museum of Contemporary Art (NMOCA), Korea is mixing things up this summer with an exhibition exploring the connections between art and dance by bringing together a remarkable lineup of international visual artists, choreographers and dancers. Thoughtfully curated and beautifully executed, ‘MOVE: Art and Dance since the 1960s’ is one this summer’s must-see exhibitions for creators in Seoul.

Courtesy the Forsythe company with the Biennale art Venice and the Ursula Blickle foundation / Photo by NMOCA

William Forsythe, The Fact of Matter (2009)

‘MOVE’ is an exhibition that seems to defy categorization. On one hand, it is history-heavy, documenting the work of many artists of the 1960s and 1970s who were responsible for pushing dance and performance beyond its traditional limits. Then again, it is not without contemporary context; roughly half of the works in the show belong to the 21st century, a great many of which were commissioned by the Hayward Gallery in London (home of the original ‘MOVE’ exhibition in 2010). It is an exhibition of objects and performances, with a critical quota of video works as well as a digital multimedia archive to support the exhibition’s conceptual framework. In short, ‘MOVE’ is the total package; engaging visitors on numerous levels and offering a comprehensive account of the interaction between art and dance—and everything in the middle.

The majority of the works in the exhibition open up direct communication with exhibition-goers by changing how they interact with their surroundings—restricting, liberating or guiding their movement. Bruce Nauman’s Green Light Corridor (1970) is an immersive installation designed to unpleasantly alter one’s equilibrium. Traversing this uncomfortably narrow passageway, visitors are forced to surrender to the physical limitations that intensify their awareness of the bodily self and sensory perception. Other works, such as Adaptation: Test Room Containing Multiple Stimuli Known to Elicit Curiosity and Manipulatory Responses (1999/2010) by Mike Kelley reverse this approach, drawing attention to the relationship between the body and its surroundings by encouraging open-ended interaction as a vehicle for self-discovery. Finally, works of a third sort—such as those by William Forsythe and Lygia Clark—guide or direct one’s movement and are perhaps the exhibition’s most readily accessible. The movements of museum visitors are required to activate these large-scale interactive installations and bring them to a state of fully-developed completion.

Courtesy the artist and Klosterfelde gallery Berlin / Photo by NMOCA

Christian Jankowski, Rooftop Routine (2008)

A superlative instance of this (in performance form) is Production (2010), created by Xavier Le Roy and Mårten Spångberg, activated continuously for the better part of each day in the museum’s Circular Gallery. In this ‘happening performance,’ the ephemeral nature of performance itself is taken as a conceptual basis. Production doesn’t stand on ceremony; it takes place within a nondescript and unoccupied area of the gallery and its participants (to call them ‘performers’ would not only be inaccurate, but also antithetical to the aims of Le Roy and Spångberg) could be easily mistaken for visitors to the exhibition. The resulting effect is an attempt to de-commodify dance and performance, challenging the artificial construct of choreography by essentially forsaking it as a systematized aspect of creative practice. Whereas improvisation in dance is nothing new, the participants in Production take the practice to a new level, opening themselves to—and indeed, encouraging—interruption by museum visitors. Spectators play an equal role in this ‘happening performance’ by initiating conversations with the dancers, who in turn drop what they are doing and engage in this new form of ‘improvisation.’

Photo by NMOCA

Trisha Brown, Floor of the Forest (1970/2012)

Dance performance, lest we forget, is a major component of the exhibition’s contents. On any given day, there are no fewer than nine different performances for visitors to take (part) in. Although ‘MOVE’ largely seeks to upset traditional rules of the performer-spectator relationship, in certain cases these conventions nonetheless prevail. This must not be interpreted as an ultimate capitulation to traditional avenues of dance performance, however. On the contrary, this is just one more example of how this genre-bending exhibition challenges its viewers to wrestle with the (often polemical) implications of the convergence of art and performance.

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Do Ho Suh: Home Within Home

Friday, June 1st, 2012

23 March – 3 June, 2012
Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art
Opening Hours: Tuesday – Sunday, 10:00-18:30
Admission: 7,000 won
http://leeum.org

by Andy St. Louis

**This review originally appeared in ELOQUENCE Magazine (May 2012)

Arguably the most widely-known and critically-acclaimed Korean artist alive today, Do Ho Suh has achieved a level of international recognition most artists can only dream of. His dramatic installation-based work boldly engages the East-West divide, navigating the treacherous psychological territory of locating one’s identity within a globalized world. In ‘Home Within Home,’ the artist’s first solo exhibition in Korea since 2003, Suh invokes as much of his home-bred sensibility as he does of international know-how, resulting in a universally-understood but very individually interpreted exhibition experience.

Courtesy Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art

Seoul Home Seoul Home (2012)

‘Home Within Home’ is split between two galleries in Leeum’s special exhibitions wing (designed by Rem Koolhaas), with a third separate area devoted to screening documentary video about major works in Suh’s oeuvre that are not included in the exhibition. In the upstairs gallery, enclosed by Koolhaas’s floating ‘black box,’ is a diverse grouping of pieces in a variety of media—all of which address the concept of ‘home,’ but when taken as a whole, lack the knockout punch that has come to be expected of Suh’s work. Downstairs, however, is the exhibition’s real focal point: five installation pieces from Suh’s ongoing Home series (1999-2012).

These five remarkable works use translucent dyed cloth to recreate some of the homes inhabited by the artist during his life, giving viewers an unusually intimate glimpse into the artist’s domestic surroundings—from the hanok building in Seoul his family occupied in his childhood, to the towering facade of a New York brownstone, to the corridor of a railroad apartment in Berlin. While the visitor’s first impression is invariably one of amazement at the fastidious detail with which even the most mundane details are stitched in these to-scale models, upon reflection one begins to appreciate Suh’s more intimate preoccupation with our relationships to domestic spaces at large and the implications they suggest with regard to the artist’s nomadic lifestyle.

ⓒDo Ho Suh, 2012

North Wall (2005)

Suh is a self-described nomad, having been born and raised in Korea and subsequently receiving the bulk of his formal artistic training—advanced degrees from RISD (painting) and Yale (sculpture)—in the United States. Throughout his life, he has constantly been on the move—even as a child, his family changed residences multiple times—and he continues this embrace this nomadic existence to this day, as he continues to split his time between New York and Seoul. In spite of being ‘homeless,’ as it were, Suh is no aimless drifter, and his attachment to his Korean roots are a fundamental motivation behind his work. Indeed, much the work on display in ‘Home Within Home’ (the five Home installations in particular) can be seen as a contemporary recontextualization of the aesthetic ideals unique to Oriental painting—a discipline he is all-too-familiar with, considering the prominence and recognition of his father, Suh Se-ok, considered one of the last Oriental painters in Korea’s literati tradition.

One of the distinguishing features of Oriental—and especially Korean—painting is the quality of its lines, and by extension, their capability of expression. In the Home series, we encounter lines of a different sort; rather than describing a scene using ink on paper, they instead demarcate the edges of Suh’s domestic worlds in three dimensions. No matter how lifeless or insipid these (often) run-of-the-mill interiors may be, however, the suppleness and delicacy of the cloth used in their construction lends them a distinctly organic, hand-crafted and charming quality. Like a consummate painting in the Oriental tradition, the lines of Suh’s homes illustrate his sensitivity to balance and composition; whether stretched taut or hanging slack, textured with detailed stitching or left bare, the variations in line reflect the artist’s appreciation for this unmistakeably Oriental concern.

ⓒDo Ho Suh, 2012

348 West 22nd Street, New York, NY 10011, USA–Apt. A, Corridor and Staircase (2012)

Suh further honors the aesthetics of Oriental painting in his use of empty space—not only in his work, but also in the design and layout of the exhibition on the whole. The works in the Home series are as much about the empty space they circumscribe as anything, particularly when one takes into account the diaphanous translucency of their walls. The fabric itself plays a major contributing factor in fostering a sense of openness in viewers; even when inside one of these ‘structures,’ the surrounding gallery space remains in plain view, and vice versa. Installed in Leeum’s vast open-plan gallery space, these five installation pieces have plenty of breathing room, resonating with their overall sense of emptiness and resulting in an overwhelming sensation of balance and stability—the marks of an Oriental painting of the finest execution.

 

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Bae Young-whan: Song for Nobody

Tuesday, April 3rd, 2012

City Hall
1 March – 20 May 2012 @ PLATEAU, Samsung Museum of Art
Opening hours: Tuesday – Sunday, 10:00-18:00
Admission: 3,000 won
www.plateau.or.kr

by Andy St. Louis

**This review appeared in Eloquence Magazine (April 2012)

Pop music is a universal language with common currency and mass appeal the world over. It brings people together in its voicing of the human condition, stirring our hopes and dreams, consoling us in times of hardship, tugging at our heartstrings, and simultaneously offering a necessary escape from our most entrenched longings. This escape is always temporary, however—a condition that points at the nature of pop songs themselves. Their shelf life is limited and subject to the shifts in taste and hunger expressed by our society. At their best, pop songs set to words the sentimentality of our common cultural heritage.

Pop Song--Crazy Love (2006)

Bae Young-whan—whose rise to prominence began 15 years ago with his Pop Song series (1997-2002)—is the subject of a new mid-career survey entitled ‘Song for Nobody’ at PLATEAU. The human condition, reflected in pop music and similarly universally accessible cultural referents, is the subject of his captivating and often enigmatic work which uses a collective visual vernacular to convey messages contradictory to our culturally-conditioned preconceptions. In his Pop Song works, Bae repurposes the conventionally romantic and sentimental stylings of the genre to draw attention to the lives of people surviving on the margins of society. Developed over the course of three solo exhibitions early in the artist’s career, in ‘Song for Nobody’ these works are displayed in the exhibition’s very first section, and rightly so; the entirety of Bae’s artistic production has evolved from his initial consideration of pop songs as a mode of examining ourselves in relation to a larger social system, and the Pop Song series provides a crucial context for the artist’s later work.

The exhibition is prefaced with the artist’s newest work, Golden Ring—A Beautiful Hell (2012). This piece serves as an overture to ‘Song for Nobody’ and is a fitting distillation of the artist’s psychological development during his career thus far. Installed in the center of PLATEAU’s airy glass-enclosed atrium, this gilded boxing ring (constructed at roughly 1/3 scale) proposes a meditation on emptiness; not only in terms of the void enclosed by its ropes, but also in the obstacles to interpretation it presents as a stand-alone object. The atrium, which houses Rodin’s monumental bronzes The Gates of Hell and The Burghers of Calais, provides an unmatched setting for this type of contemplation. The space itself is a postmodern cathedral of sorts, and Golden Ring its high altar, albeit one absolved of any commonly-held belief system. Just as the moral of a fable cannot be fully appreciated until the story has been read, Golden Ring realizes its full expression only in the context of the exhibition as a whole.

Golden Ring--A Beautiful Hell (2012)

The latter half of the exhibition, which includes works from 2010 to the present, differs considerably from the rest of the show, and reveals the artist shifting his gaze ever inward in contemplation of his own humanity. This is the nature of any mid-career survey of an artist such as Bae, at a crossroads in his artistic practice and seeking new avenues of expression. In fact, this uncertainty in direction is one of the most captivating aspects of the exhibition, and it would be misguided to classify the artist’s oeuvre according to any single interpretation. Nevertheless, the exhibition literature offers up the following interpretation of the show’s allegorical title, ‘Song for Nobody:’ “a sincere ode to those marginalized ‘nobody’ [sic] in our society.” This is the curatorial equivalent of claiming one pop song to be representative of all pop music, rejecting the inescapable brevity that is essential to the health and continued relevance of the genre as a whole. The exhibition is more than a humble ‘ode;’ it is a ‘theme and variations,’ revealing the full range of Bae’s avenues of inquiry in search for a more perfect expression of his unique artistic vision.

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Q&O. Structures and Fragments at One and J. Gallery

Tuesday, March 6th, 2012

Samcheong-dong
16 February – 7 March 2012
Opening hours: Tuesday – Sunday, 11:00-18:00
http://www.oneandj.com/

Form follows function—Originally fashioned in 1896 by the American architect Louis Sullivan, this succinct, alliterative catchphrase would go on to define the course of 20th century modernist architecture and design. Although considered little more than an empty cliché with limited contemporary applications among today’s creative circles, Sullivan’s mantra nonetheless continues to manifest itself in the groupthink of society as a whole; its pervasive effects have fundamentally influenced how we perceive the world around us and make ordered sense of it.

Anabel Quiriarte and Jorge Ornelas are two artists who operate as a single creative unit. True to the dialectical framework that informs its production, their work invites direct engagement with viewers and demonstrates a discursive faculty befitting its manner of creation. “Structures and Fragments” at One and J. Gallery presents this process at its apotheosis, in which even the most mundane objects—pencils, paper, scissors, books and cassette tapes—transcend their face value and perform a dressing-down of the conventional ways we comprehend the world.

Drawing Structure 3, 2012. Watercolor on paper. Polyptych 6 pieces (Courtesy One and J. Gallery)

In their watercolors, oils and installations, the Mexican artist duo Quiriarte + Ornelas base their consideration of objects on direct and unadulterated visual experience. Not only do they refrain from a functionalist approach to objects à la Sullivan; they shun interpretive readings altogether. Their relationship with objects is one in which function follows form, a back-to-basics framework almost always used to ascribe meaning to objects that are unfamiliar or foreign to our sensibilities. In spite of this, Quiriarte + Ornelas approach the very things they understand most intimately—the pencils, sketchbooks and other art-making tools they use day in and day out—with just such a methodology. Fraught with banality though these objects may be, they are not free of interpretation. Indeed, the more commonplace the object, the more difficult it is to mentally separate its physical attributes from the connotations they suggest. In order to effectively cancel out these connotations and isolate the image of an object from its corresponding idea, Quiriarte + Ornelas physically alter its appearance while retaining its essential nature as identifiable objects, reconfiguring objects as either fragments or structures.

“Structures and Fragments” does not require conceptual heavy lifting for the disinclined, however. Much of the exhibition is, in fact, playful; given its subject matter—from balls of crumpled paper and cassette tapes spiked through with pencils, to piles of books haphazardly strewn this way and that, to hundred of pencil splinters scattered on the floor—one might even go so far as to call the exhibition “whimsical” (or at the very least, “quirky”). The paintings are characterized by an almost insultingly direct manner of representation (naturalistic but well short of hyperrealism) as well as a compositional affinity for isolating their subjects within otherwise blank canvases, eliminating all traces of the figure/ground relationship. This aesthetic sensibility sheds light on the conceptual underpinnings of exhibition itself; though technically well-executed, these paintings convey a detached objectivity that renders them unable to meaningfully connect with viewers on the basis of their images alone. Their agency as images derives from the process of their creation rather than its results, blurring the boundaries between art-making and art in its own right.

Pencil 4, 2011. Oil on canvas (Courtesy One and J. Gallery)

The simplest of these constructions, unsurprisingly, are also the most visually arresting. Using nothing more than pencils speared through balls of crumpled paper, Quiriarte + Ornelas reach the apotheosis of their conceptual aims in their Drawing Structure series (2012). Although structural simplicity of the constructions allowing the brain to perceive the structure according to its component parts, efforts to infer any meaning from their composite sum is stymied. This cognitive conundrum works in reverse in the artists’ Pencil series (2011). Here, the “construction” comprises splinters of shattered pencils arranged at random on a flat surface, offering fragments presented independently their correspondent whole. Again, Quiriarte + Ornelas dispatch with the relative agency demanded of these constructions by the brain and instigate a reevaluation of tacit assumptions about meaning, context and form.

 

The exhibition is about more than just looking; it is about using what we see (rather than what we know) to inform our relationships with objects. Once the objects in “Structures and Fragments” are reconfigured in ways that neutralize their accepted functionality, they can be considered in a new light—one independent of outside interpretations. Sullivan’s “form follows function” is revealed to permit only a very narrow interpretation of most object, one which extends only as far as our preconceived impressions allow. When “function follows form,” as Quiriarte + Ornelas propose in this exhibition, the impressions of what we see are genuine and undistorted—objects as objects, and nothing more.

Structure: Wall 1, 2012. Watercolor on paper. Triptych (Courtesy One and J. Gallery)

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‘David LaChapelle in Seoul’ at Seoul Arts Center

Thursday, December 29th, 2011
Burning Down the House (Alexander McQueen & Isabella Blow) (1996)

Seocho
22 November 2011 – 26 February 2012

Opening hours: Monday – Sunday, 11:00-19:00
Admission: 13,000 won
http://www.dlcseoul.com

By Andy St. Louis

David LaChapelle. The name doesn’t trigger the same immediate reaction that others–say, Annie Liebovitz, Juergen Teller, Baron Wolman, or even Terry Richardson–might. David LaChapelle. To some, portraits of rock stars and celebrities on hte cover of Rolling Stone may come to mind. To others,the more fashion-oriented covers of Vogue and Vanity Fair. To few does high-concept/socially critical photography come to mind (if, indeed, anything comes to mind at all). And yet, this photographer, who is still very much in mid-career (he is 48), is gaining renewed insternational respect as more than a one-trick pony with an eye for best-selling magazine cover shoots. “David LaChapelle in Seoul” at Seoul Arts Center is a veritable trove of of visual delights—at nearly 200 works, it is the most comprehensive selection of the prolific photographer’s work ever seen in Asia—revealing the astounding ways in which LaChapelle’s visual output has transformed since he became a professional photographer while still in high school.

The themes and subject matter in LaChapelle’s work have changed considerably over the years, from his early work shown at galleries in New York’s East Village in the 1980s, to his cover and editorial work for fashion and lifestyle magazines, and more recently, work that resonates with the artist’s withdrawal from the “world” and subsequent retreat to his current residence in a cabin in the rainforest. Despite the radical turns LaChapelle’s career has taken over the past two and a half decades, the threads running through his enormous catalogue of images remain true to his own deeply personal worldview. The work that results inevitably falls into one of these four broad categories: mass consumption, fame, religion and the human form.

Death by Hamburger (2002), from the ‘Inflatables’ series

While still in high school, a teenage LaChapelle was “discovered” by Andy Warhol who offered him a job taking photos for Interview magazine. One can only imagine the profound influence that the so-called “father of pop art” must have had on the up-and-coming photographer, and it is no surprise that much of LaChapelle’s work examines the material culture that was at the center of Warhol’s own artistic practice. With a constant eye toward society’s excessive consumption, LaChapelle wields both humor and gravity to injurious effect in his oblique criticisms of human nature, subverting social conventions by placing his subjects in fabricated surreal environments. His Inflatables series (2002) adopts a humorous tack in its variation on the USA’s bigger is better mentality, marooning fashion models in the grips of super sized household products seeking vengance on their consumers.  Other images appropriate disaster and devastation to reflect a converse approach to the topic of consumerism, such as LaChapelle’s Destructions series (2005), where haute couture is stripped of its visual appeal by scenes of death and tragedy.

The artist’s disdain for consumerism is no doubt wrapped up in the subject matter that dominated his early career. Indeed, the work he is perhaps most widely known for is his celebrity portrait portfolio—characterized by its images’ shock value, aesthetic intrigue and a hint of voyeurism—plays directly into the mass market for which it was produced. Eminem, Britney Spears, Madonna, Tupak Shakur, Lil’ Kim, Naomi Campbell, David Bowie, Drew Barrymore, Angelina Jolie, and Lady Gaga have all been received the “LaChapelle treatment” over the years, and the photographer’s primary focus on this subject matter for so much of his career had a direct effect on the way he looked at the world. Society’s fascination with—and interconnected reverence for—celebrity evoked by these defining images must have struck a discordant note in the photographer’s perception of humanity, evidenced by his gradual departure from this line of work and turn to a more critical line of inquiry.

The House at the End of the World (2005), from the ‘Destructions’ series

LaChapelle frequently mobilizes religious imagery in his later work, mining its vast repository of ready-made mise–en–scènes for their characteristic formal qualities. This body of work, which largely dates from 2006 onward, abandons LaChapelle’s standard mode of social critique in favor of a much more subtle treatment of the issues revolving around veneration and piety. By appropriating ubiquitous religious motifs and reframing them in a modern context—Michelangelo’s Pietà, for instance, set in an archetypal children’s playroom, Courtney Love assuming the persona of the Virgin Mary (Heaven to Hell, 2006)—the photographer communicates a pervasive sense of not-quite-right-ness indicative of his own loss of faith in humankind itself. Though celebrity figures such as Love occasionally appear in these images, they serve only to underline the artist’s concern with the power of images and the currency they exert over society. Interestingly, the figures that occupy these works are much more gestural than those of LaChapelle’s earlier days, hinting at an aesthetic maturity and return to nature. Nude, contorted, and imbued with either unrestrained pathos or absolute tranquility, they signal a sea change in the photographer’s artistic motivation and intellectual investment in his work.

Of course, it is the body itself to which this visionary photographer has unremittingly devoted his lifework, and it is this most empathetic of all possible subject matter that has given the most back in return. LaChapelle’s understanding of the human form and eye for capturing it at its most superlative—sensuous, grotesque, endearing, menacing, and all manner of emotional states—will always be his trademark. He is not merely an image-maker, documenting the human condition through his unique perspective, he is a purveyor of desire itself. The photographs are just the tools; we, the very consumers of these images, are the true objects of the photographer’s manipulation. This creator-consumer interaction is rare in its reciprocity; the audience is at once a third-party observer as well as the very apotheosis of LaChapelle’s ideological questioning. The result is an ongoing dialogue between the  images (and by extension, the artist himself) and their audience that give this gargantuan exhibition its essential intimacy.

Last Supper (2003) – from the ‘Jesus is my Homeboy’ series

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City Within the City at Artsonje Center

Thursday, December 8th, 2011

Samcheong-dong
12 November 2011 – 15 January 2012
Opening hours: Tuesday – Sunday, 11:00-19:00
Admission: 3,000 won
http://artsonje.org/

by Andy St. Louis

**This review appeared in Eloquence Magazine (December 2011)

Artsonje Center doesn’t organize many group exhibitions―typically only one per year―so when such a rarity does present itself, it’s best to take note. Meticulously curated and thoughtfully conceived, the new exhibition at Artsonje Center tackles a theme with increasing relevance to contemporary artists as each year passes. Working under the enigmatic title “City Within the City,” curators from samuso: (Seoul) and Gertrude Contemporary (Melbourne) have created a diverse yet incisive platform within which visitors can engage with the larger questions surrounding cities and our roles as participants, observers or obstacles of urban development. This is socially-conscious curatorial programming; beyond pretty pictures and interesting concepts, “City Within the City” proposes a comprehensive look at the relationships between the urban landscape and city dwellers, keeping an eye to the way they have changed throughout history, resulting in the status quo.

Ash Keating, Zi Namsan Plus, 2011 (Courtesy Artsonje Center)

The documentary impulse presents a strong current throughout the museum’s two floors of exhibition space, from “officially recognized” histories to first-person remembrances. This sliding scale of authenticity and historical potency reflects the negotiations between individuals and the cityscape that inspire the exhibition. Haegue Yang juxtaposes utopian apartment-tower fantasy with the banality of newsprint in her slide projection Dehors (2006). Ash Keating takes a similar tack in Zi Namsan Plus (2011), satirizing the grotesquery and sensationalism part and parcel of the visual language employed by Korea’s mega-developers. Yeondoo Jung does Yang and Keating one better, however, by going inside these very same structures and investigating―via an encyclopedic photo series of living rooms with nearly-identical floor plans (Southern Rainbow Seoul, 2011)―how Korean families subvert the dehumanizing effects of Korean residential architecture.

“City Within the City” charts hypothetical encounters with the urban environment as much as it does verifiable ones, providing ample possibility for more imaginative discourse with the show’s theme. Minouk Lim‘s three-channel video presents a series of idiosyncratic riverside encounters during a presumed Han River night cruise (S.O.S.-Adoptive Dissensus, 2009). This three-channel video installation engages the river not only in dialogue with the city, but also with the way individuals conceptualize ownership of civic space. In his short film Seoul Fiction (2010), Jun Yang exposes an emotional, surreal and highly personal conflict between city and countryside as experienced by an elderly Korean couple. In stark opposition to carefully constructed story lines and cinematic contrivances, Alicia Frankovich proposes an impromptu physical manifestation of city life in her brief but aggressive video installation Volution (2011). Somewhere between reminiscence and reaction, Frankovich explores notions of personal space and personal expression within the strictures of urban life, assuming the role of de facto archetype for the show’s curatorial imperative.

Alicia Frankovich, Volution, 2011 (Courtesy Artsonje Center)

The exhibition is activated beyond the gallery’s interior spaces through projects by two Seoul-based artists collectives. Part-time Suite, nominated for the Hermès Korea Art Prize earlier this year, literally offers itself and its daily operations as a part of the exhibition. For their project SAMUSO Patch (2011), the collective sets up a temporary headquarters in a storeroom/garage nearby the museum and uses it as a base for its interventions, projects and film screenings. Adopting a more didactic approach, the group Listen to the City repurposes Artsonje Center’s ground-floor lounge/bookstore as a resource center for contentious urban development projects. In addition to this on-site content, Listen to the City is also offering its trademark Seoul Tours―alternative excursions aimed at reexamining sites of large-scale state-sponsored public works projects in and around Seoul―as well as organizing its 2nd annual Urban Film Festival.

Artsonje Center’s location in historic Bukchon, an historic and culturally rich enclave in Seoul rapidly succumbing to gentrification, lends the works inside the museum additional immediacy. Within its neighborhood, the museum itself acts as an accomplice in the very development that the exhibition (partly) condemns. Yet, this poignant truth adds further layers of complexity to be parsed from the dialectics advanced by this show; the physical and symbolic presence of the museum itself takes on the function of a meta-artwork, analyzed and encountered alongside the contents of its exhibition.

“City Within the City” Public Programs

Artist Talks

12 November/5pm – Alicia Frankovich, Ash Keating, Andrew McQualter
19 November/5pm – Abraham Cruzvillegas
17 Devember/5pm – Suyeon Yun

Urban Film Festival

18 November – 20 November/5pm daily
16 December – 18 December/5pm daily

(Abraham Cruzvillegas) Screening Program

10 December/5pm – Autoconstrucción (2009)

(Part-time Suite) Screening Program

26 November/6pm – Video Patchwork
22 December/6pm – Video Patchwork: Open Call

(Listen to the City) Writing and Drawing Workshop: North Korea, imagined by South Koreans

7 January 2012/4pm

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The Color of Calm at Laughing Tree Gallery

Monday, February 7th, 2011

Haebangchon
29th January- 5th February 6-9pm
6th- 12th February by appointment
Admission: free
Contact: info@LaughingTree.com
www.laughingtree.com

by Andy St. Louis

These days, it seems that a lot of “fine art” has lost that which for so long had defined it; namely beauty, a concept which is inherently impossible to consider objectively. Theories abound as to what makes an object, person or image beautiful, but in the end it all comes down to the emotional response automatically triggered as a result of certain combinations of rods and cones being activated on the retina. In the the nanoseconds before the brain begins to infer all sorts of data and mental assimilations from the content of an image, there is an intuitive—or reflex—appraisal that takes place instantaneously. Certain combinations of shapes and colors, arranged in certain compositional forms and dimensional formats, make us happy or sad, excited or lethargic, agitated or calm, all simply because of what they look like, not what they mean.

Anya Dennis, "Fortitude" (2010). Courtesy of the artist.

Anya Dennis, "Fortitude" (2010). Courtesy of the artist.

Though most visual artists don’t likely think along such scientific (read: deconstructionalist) lines, it’s easy to pick out the ones who justifiably might do just that. Mark Rothko, Piet Mondrian, Ellsworth Kelly, Jackon Pollock—all painters—as well as Anish Kapoor and Richard Serra—both sculptors—immediately come to mind, their work eschewing higher-order thinking in favor of what the Korean Zen master Seung Sahn would call “no-mind.” But to associate photographers with this school of aesthetic thought and artistic practice is no easy task; perhaps because photography is inherently a means of capturing “actuality” (fact, narrative, documentation) or perhaps because a photo represents the encapsulation of an instant whereas a painting or sculpture represents instead the culmination of an artist’s prolonged interaction with a medium. It would seem easier for painters and sculptors to explore, develop and cultivate such a direct emotional engagement with their artwork, given the sheer amount of time required to get it “just right,” working and struggling with it until it speaks the language of “no-mind.” So when one discovers photographs (apart from photograms à la László Moholy-Nagy) that speak this language, it’s best to take note.

Anya Dennis, "Ritual" (2010). Courtesy of the artist.

Anya Dennis, "Ritual" (2010). Courtesy of the artist.

“The Color of Calm,” a solo exhibition by New York-based photographer Anya Dennis, is the impetus for precisely this sort of revelatory experience. Currently on view at the intimate Laughing Tree Gallery in Haebangchon, Dennis’s photos trigger a reflex sense of serenity, balance and calm. The power of suggestion, of course, plays not a small role in conditioning viewers to embrace a pre-rational way of looking and abandon—or at least try to ignore—the free associations that create “mental noise.” And yet, the whole show could do without any title whatsoever and would still speak the same way to its viewers.

Created over a period of two months in the summer of 2010, the photos selected for this, the artist’s first international exhibition, reflect the ways in which color, beauty and emotion are inextricably linked. In this case, Dennis explores this relationship using the color green as her point of entry, a color full of latent symbolism via notions of renewal, growth, nature and vitality. While she certainly taps into the natural environment in some her subject matter, more often than not the color green finds its way into her photos innocently, or even subversively in some cases. In Ritual, for instance, one of the more overtly portraiture-oriented photos in the exhibition, green appears as an ever-so-faint layer of patinated moss on a red-brick background. Dennis’s attention to such subtleties in her photos reflects her uncanny ability to capture images that luxuriate in color, contrast and composition—all of which induce a sensory response rather than a cognitive one.

Anya Dennis, "In Awe" (2010). Courtesy of the artist.

Anya Dennis, "In Awe" (2010). Courtesy of the artist.

Dennis’s photographs are indeed beautiful, but casual or sceptic observers may entertain internal monologues something along the lines of: “These are just beautiful vacation photos in nice frames … If I were in [insert tropical Southeast Asian country], I’m sure I could take pictures that are just as good as these … What’s so special about these images?” Such a self-assured statement, however, is hopeful at best, especially when taking into account Dennis’s years of honing her craft and her artistic process. A self-taught photographer, Dennis’s eyes were metaphorically opened during an extended stay in Accra, Ghana in 1997, while still a student at Clark Atlanta University. Her travels across the African continent since that initial encounter provided her with the “blank canvas” she needed to explore the relationship between culture and identity and deepen her commitment to photography as a means of “capturing the soul.”

It is her most recent body of work, however—created in Bali, Malaysia, Singapore and Japan—that truly testifies to Dennis’s having fine-tuned her craft to a level that many only dream of. Her ability to capture images that penetrate to the very essence of her subjects and enrapture viewers by appealing to their eyes—the windows to the soul—rather than their rational sensibilities sets her apart from even the most prolific “travel photographers:” a title altogether inadequate for someone of Dennis’s caliber. In her artistic practice, Dennis works along thematic—as opposed to specific—lines; instead of setting out to photograph monks, she looks instead for manifestations of spirituality. Or rather, she doesn’t go looking for anything at all, but has an eye towards sights, stories and situations that resonate with the emotions, concepts and sensations that she is constantly exploring. The result is a deeply personal body of work that can’t help but captivate whosoever comes in contact with them. This expert eye, in synchrony with the intimacy and immediacy indelibly inscribed in her images, confidently locates Dennis’s recent work alongside any cover of National Geographic.

Anya Dennis, photographer, and Adam Lofbomm, Laughing Tree Gallery curator

Anya Dennis, photographer, and Adam Lofbomm, Laughing Tree Gallery curator

The installation at Laughing Tree Gallery—images all of one uniform shape and orientation—does away with all distractions, embracing the simplicity of the gallery’s physical space that encourages the mindful engagement that Dennis’s work demands. The sequencing of different images in the show, itself executed in a highly conscious manner, only further serves to facilitate genuine interaction with the images individually and as a progressive and comprehensive “calming” unit.

“I don’t choose my images,” says Dennis, true to form and her unique way of seeing the world, “my images choose me.” A bold claim perhaps, and yet it speaks great truth about her work; like Pollock and indeed, the entire company of what may be aptly called “no-mind” artists in Western art history, Dennis’s photographs reflect a oneness of spirit with her subjects that speaks a universal language.

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Song Yige at Gallery Hyundai

Sunday, January 30th, 2011

7th January- 6th February
Gangnam
Opening hours: Tuesday- Sunday 10am-6pm, closed Monday and national holidays
Admission: free
www.galleryhyundai.com

Song Yige at Gallery Hyundai, Gangnam

Chinese painter Song Yige is a hot topic around these Asian parts of late, and it’s no wonder. Her paintings typically deal with themes of childhood and the transition to adulthood with associated feelings of loneliness through simple and direct depictions of daily objects in desolate spaces. Most paintings are figure-less, but recall human presence in the absence of it. She paints in a realistic manner, and is a master of combining all of these elements with an astute sense of colour, to create honest and enrapturing works which seem to whisper softly to the viewer and beg them to pile their own personal meanings and memories onto the spaces that Yige has primed for them. These wonderful, large, low hung paintings in Gallery Hyundai are awaiting your meanings and memories.

Song Yige, 'Helplessness 1,' (2009). Courtesy of Gallery Hyundai

Song Yige, 'Helplessness 1,' (2009). Courtesy of Gallery Hyundai

Song Yige alludes to childhood by means of over sized objects which recall how big everything seems when you are young. A mourning for the loss of childhood is dealt with most overtly in ‘Helplessness 1,’ (2009), where a lone man wearing deer horns dejectedly gazes upon a crashed remote control helicopter. He is proportionately smaller than the helicopter and the maze of open doors to the left of the composition, and it’s uncertain whether he is outside or in. The ground is uneven and carries on as such through the open doors, emphasising the lonely, uncertain feelings which this painting provokes.

Song Yige, 'Untitled,' (2009). Courtesy of Gallery Hyundai

Song Yige, 'Untitled,' (2009). Courtesy of Gallery Hyundai

Whilst ‘Helplessness 1,’ deals with nostalgia for childhood, ‘Untitled,’ (2009) deals with the thrilling, yet terrifying transition into adulthood. The painting depicts a blue moonlit scene of a single track between wheat fields, leading to the vortex of the painting. The journey alluded to in the seemingly endless monotonous landscape, invites feelings of exhilaration in the sheer vastness and openness of the composition, but also of fear of embracing this freedom. The simple lines of the tracks leading to the centre of the painting and the horizon offered by the wheat are ever so slightly asymmetrical, playing with the viewer’s equilibrium and adding a further disconcerting edge to the work.

The open spaces of ‘Helplessness 1,’ and ‘Untitled,’ resonate with loneliness and desolation, feelings drawn upon in all works but extracted by varying means. In ‘You and Me,’ (2010), it’s a pair of worn pink chairs, evoking thoughts of the figures now absent. In ‘Bathroom,’ (2009), it’s working shower heads, pouring water onto nothing but the dirty tiles, which beg for human presence and seem to whisper the delicate splashing of water upon the floor. In ‘Abyss,’ (2008), it’s a terrible, black, gaping hole down which a ladder ladder much too short for the purpose, half heartedly and untrustingly reaches.

Song Yige, 'You and Me,' (2010). Courtesy of Gallery Hyundai

Song Yige, 'You and Me,' (2010). Courtesy of Gallery Hyundai

The paintings are swathed in varying melancholy green blue tints and executed with tender brushstrokes which relay objects in a realsitic manner. However, the strokes seem to tremble and threaten to break free of their confines in places, evident in strokes extending slightly further than they should and intruding into the space represented. Thick applications of paint become more than representational as physical embodiments of the heavy atmospheres provoked.

Perhaps I have made this all out to sound very grim, but it’s not. There is terrible loneliness and uncertainty, but overall, they are melancholy rather than desperate. The loaded spaces beg the viewer’s interpretation, making each painting personal according to your own experiences. They are humble, open, and obviously come from deep within Yige’s heart. They’re waiting for you too.

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Robert Delpire & Friends at Hangaram Art Museum, Seoul Arts Centre

Wednesday, January 12th, 2011

Seocho-dong
17th December- 27th February
Opening hours: Daily 11 am- 8 pm
Admission: Adults 10,000 won, children 8,000/ 5,000 won
www.sac.or.kr

Robert Delpire and Friends“Who is Robert Delpire?” is the first question that sprung to mind upon reading the title of one of the current exhibitions at Seoul Arts Centre, ‘Robert Delpire and Friends.’ As it turns out, Robert Delpire’s friends are far better known than he is; Delpire being a publisher and curator, and his ‘friends’ including an impressive selection of extremely influential 20th century photographers; Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Frank, William Klein, Robert Doisneau and Brassai to name but a few. He also happens to be married to Sarah Moon, another photography heroine. Even the most fleeting of visits to this exhibition would confirm that this unsung hero, who is a member of the prestigious photographer cooperative Magnum, and has played an essential role in introducing his photographer friends to the world over the last 60 years, is completely deserving of this retrospective.

Robert Frank, 'Les Americans,' published by Delpire, (1958)

Robert Frank, 'Les Americans,' published by Delpire, (1958)

Delpire’s colourful career began in 1951, when, at the age of 23, he began carving out his life-long profession as a publisher, abandoning his medical career in favour of publishing ‘Neuf,’ a luxury, glossy art magazine for doctors. ‘Neuf,’ was among the first publications to show works by some afore-mentioned friends of his, kick-starting their careers. Other achievements most importantly include publishing Robert Frank’s definitive photo document ‘The Americans,’ in 1958, known for its ‘street photography’ style and satirical look at the tired cliche of the American Dream, and for publishing ‘Photo Poche,’ the first paperback photography series on significant photographers of our times.

Delpire stands in front of a selection of his 'Photo Poche' series in various languages

Delpire stands in front of a selection of his 'Photo Poche' series in various languages

‘Robert Delpire & Friends,’ is a wonderful collection of largely black and white photographs and books which Delpire has published, including editions of ‘Neuf,’ ‘The Americans,’ and ‘Photo Poche,’ in multi-national, translated guises, re-iterating their significance as accessible documents of modern and contemporary photography greats. There are also a vast amount of hardback photo-documentary books on a huge selection of countries which act as ethnographic records, published in collaboration with, for example, Heni Cartier-Bresson and Werner Bischof. A small corner of this exhibition adds a deeper social dimension to Delpire’s work by showcasing some of the calendars he’s been putting together for Amnesty since 1988. A selection of his short films play on loop, including a marvelous compilation of footage shot by Sarah Moon for her pivotal design work for Cacharel. There’s also a section for visitors to sit and leaf through some of Delpire’s numerous publications whilst marvelling at the the subject of this exhibition.

Henri Cartier Bresson, 'Les Dances a Bali,' published by Delpire, 1954

Henri Cartier Bresson, 'Les Dances a Bali,' published by Delpire, (1954)

There are 52 artists represented by 185 photos, 150 photobooks and four short films in this exhibition which is a rather a lot of printed material. Unfortunately, it’s not backed up by much written information, even in Korean, meaning that visitors might leave feeling unsatisfied that they have benefited fully from the works on show. For Korean visitors, however, there are audio guides available.

Despite lack of written information, ‘Robert Delpire & Friends,’ is a most excellent tribute to a man who is well overdue the recognition he deserves for introducing some of the most influential photographers of the 20th century to the public. Through the selection of works shown, which he nurtured and heralded, the viewer gets a great sense of a man who is intelligent, passionate and dedicated to photography, not to mention very humble, having managed to side-step any mass critical acclaim… until now. Snippets of a humorous character shine through by way of inclusion of his own photographs, for example, ‘Le Pains de Picasso.’ Who is Robert Delpire? A more thorough and deserving exploration of this question awaits you at Seoul Arts Centre.

Robert Delpire, 'Le Pains de Picasso,' 1952

Robert Delpire, 'Le Pains de Picasso,' (1952)

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Manga Realities: Exploring the Art of Japanese Comics Today at Artsonje Centre

Thursday, January 6th, 2011

Samcheon-dong
4th December- 13th February
Opening hours: Tuesday- Sunday 11am- 7pm, closed Monday, New Year’s Day and Lunar New Year
Admission: Adults 3,000 won, children 1,500 won
Exhibition tours: Tuesday- Sunday 2pm, 3pm, 4pm, 5pm
http://artsonje.org

Manga Realities: Exploring the Art of Japanese Comics. All images courtesy of Artsonje Centre.

Manga Realities: Exploring the Art of Japanese Comics. All images courtesy of Artsonje Centre.

In the current exhibition, Manga Realities: Exploring the Art of Japanese Comics Today at Artsonje Centre, the curators faced a daunting task of providing a representational snapshot in a gallery setting, of a medium usually enjoyed in a private realm. I cannot judge on how accurate a snapshot the curators have made; my manga appreciation is ashamedly that of a novice. However, I can appreciate that the nine artists selected represent different themes and styles in manga today. Themes used are in tune to our current globalised context, highlighting the medium’s ability to adapt. Once a form of mass entertainment for separate groups of Japanese men, women, boys and girls, the exhibition provides a platform for manga to show off how it has ripened to become regarded as ‘high art’ and a global commodity which transcends gender, age and cultural barriers. The difficult task of presenting manga in a gallery space has been handled superbly with 3D installations that are sympathetic to the individual manga represented. For both novices like myself, and avid fans alike, I’m certain this exhibition won’t disappoint.

Matsumoto Taiyo, 'Number Five,' (2000-2005)

Matsumoto Taiyo, 'Number Five,' (2000-2005)

Upon entry to the exhibition via a heavy velvet curtain, the visitor is welcomed by five giant panels featuring Matsumoto Taiyo’s ‘Number Five,’ (2000-2005); a pleasant welcoming into the world of manga that awaits inside. A selection of small scale drawings are on display too and feature gorgeous depictions of characters drawn from disparate sources such as different indigenous cultures and mythologies. There are old castles, dinosaurs, flying vehicles and smiling flowers to name but a few elements, brought together gloriously in a view of a harmonious, idealised future.

Impressive installations are carried on throughout the exhibition which deal with the problem of presenting manga in a gallery setting. The subsequent crossing over into our 3D dimension mimics manga’s often overt blurring of realities. Not only do they provide a platform for shared realities, but fans often blur realities themselves; take, for example the phenomenon of ‘cosplay,’ where people dress up as their favourite manga characters.

Anno Moyoco, 'Sugar Sugar Rune,' (2003-2007)

Anno Moyoco, 'Sugar Sugar Rune,' (2003-2007)

Kuramochi Fusako, 'Five Minutes From The Station,' (ongoing from 2007)

Kuramochi Fusako, 'Five Minutes From The Station,' (ongoing from 2007)

Wakaki Tamiki’s ‘The World God Only Knows,’ (2008), is presented in a classroom setting, mirroring the depicted environment of the manga. The gothic, winged characters in ‘Sugar Sugar Rune,’ (2003-2007), by Anno Moyoco are depicted amongst swirling pink, purple and black clouds of sparkles and stars which spill out from the 2D element of the page and are embodied in black flowing, flowered frames. Igarashi Daisuke’s ‘Children of the Sea,’ (ongoing from 2006) portrays beautifully executed, maritime adventures of young children. The drawings are in numerous cabinets, stood in a whirlpool-like circle and are protectively hugged by a grey curtain hanging from the ceiling, also featuring elements of the sea lifted from the manga. Asano Inio’s ‘Solanin,’ (2005-2006) contains highly detailed drawings hung around a room physically realised from within the manga. Freed from the restrictions of the page, Karamochi Fusako’s ‘Five Minutes From The Station,’ (ongoing from 2007), are individual frames displayed on a series of walk-in, box-like, white walls. There is no start or finish to the events depicted, and elements from the manga such as an arrow lodged into a wall, a hanging archery bow and a balloon come to life in 3D form as part if the installation. ‘Nodame Cantibille,’ (ongoing from 2001), by Ninomiya Tomoko portrays a story centred around a talented pianist presented in a Victorian-esque setting which includes a plush red carpet, mini chandeliers and an auto-playing piano which bangs out Beethoven now and again.

Harold Sakuishi, 'Beck,' (1999-2008)

Harold Sakuishi, 'Beck,' (1999-2008)

Harold Sakuishi, 'Beck,' (1999-2008)

Harold Sakuishi, 'Beck,' (1999-2008)

However, there were two exhibits which impressed me more-so than the others. The first is Harold Sakuishi’s ‘BECK, (1999-2008) which is a triptych of screens showing a rock show. Beads of sweat, trembling Japanese characters representing sounds, hands in the air, wide eyes, euphoric expressions and radiating backgrounds have been magically manipulated to create an extremely loud and energetic environment to the sound of silence. The visual techniques used seem traditional but the subject matter of a high school band surely brings the manga up to date. A fun addition to this installation is the reality blurring inclusion of numerous famous albums covers reworked to feature ‘The Mongolian Chop Squad,’ the band depicted in the manga.

Kyo Machiko, 'Sennen Gaho,' (ongoing from 2004)

Kyo Machiko, 'Sennen Gaho,' (ongoing from 2004)

The second is Kyo Machiko’s ‘Sennen Gaho,’ (ongoing from 2004). They are a selection of exquisitely hand drawn manga which reject traditional narrative. They depict singular moments on one page, usually within three or four frames. The line-work is simple and colour is provided in delicately tinged watercolours. What makes these works even more special is the fact that since 2004, Machiko has used the internet to self publish one such page a day on her own blog. This heralds a new age of web based media which means that manga can access wider audiences, displaying its ability to adapt to our current times.

This is another wonderfully and thoughtfully curated exhibition where manga is given a platform to display its powers which have evolved from a form of mass entertainment into a highly refined art form which can be expressed via endless possibilities of styles and themes. Manga has been given the chance to break free from its traditional two dimensional vehicles of presentation, and shows it keeping pace with our ever changing reality of globalisation and technological developments. Forget our reality and check out Manga Realities before 13th February!

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