Erased Metrics
Minkyung Kim (Curator, Art Centre Art Moment)
1.
Whether to memorialize a joyful moment, capture a rare scene or document history, cameras are always present. The ubiquity of cameras has transformed photography from a hobby into an everyday activity. A photograph captures a given object within a spatial (or temporal) continuum (Siegfried Kracauer, 1963). Thus, due to its strong resemblance to the subject, it implies a clear association: "The object was here." By capturing and photographing the world, the camera physically owns it and freezes the moment forever. Photography aspires to a perfect reproduction of the world and enables the repeated summoning of the original through mechanical reproduction.
Jioong Kang’s practice is based on the medium of photography. In this project, the artist ambiguously erases the subject indicated by the photograph, making its resemblance to the subject unclear. Excessively enlarged or fragmented images, partial loss and contamination due to intentional corrosion, and overlapping layers resulting from incorrect printing all blur the clear subject the photograph points to, thus detaching it from its definitive association of having once existed. Consequently, the artist's photographs evoke a different sensory experience surrounding the subject rather than focusing directly on the subject itself. The uniqueness of this approach lies in its emphasis on the narrative of the subject.
Kang's solo exhibition, Even Hope Decays..., is based on the artist's personal experience and exploration of the uninhabited island of Seomdolmoru’1 in the West Sea over the past four years. Seomdolmoru, once envisioned as a fantasy island but ultimately ending up as an island of misfortune, must have once held the promise of a successful future for some. The artist discovers traces of the past—encompassing desires, hopes, dreams, and beliefs—in the corroded remains of the abandoned leisure town. The shape of the island’s existence is defined by its narrative context: the wistful state of an island that has been neglected, the coexistence of past and present above frozen time, and the faith and hope that once touched eternity, now existing only as a vague memory. The artist emphasizes the stories of this small island and the "time" that has rendered them colorless.
2.
The subjects in the cloudy and fragmented photographs exist more like memories than records. Works such as Untitled (Greetings First by the Superior), Untitled (Wet Yacht Floor), and Untitled (SATOR) are displayed throughout the exhibition space, having been enlarged, fragmented, and transferred onto large fabric from the original Seomdolmoru photographs. The artist recombines the fragmented subjects through subjective and arbitrary actions, rather than contrasting them with the original. The errors that arise in this process disrupt the original. The fabric exposed to the sea then presents a more blurred and altered image through various contaminants and corrosion. In contrast, the Untitled (Skid) series, neatly exhibited in pure white frames, is a byproduct of the process of printing the fragmented images of Seomdolmoru. Although the errors in the images, formed by misalignment or machine defects, are printed on flawless paper, they possess an image that has been lost in itself. The artist erases the indicators of the subject’s existence through arbitrary combinations, partial loss and errors, misaligned appearances, and altered surfaces. This resembles fragmented memories more than transparent facts, much like the existential state of Seomdolmoru.
The artist amplifies the ambiguity of existence by adding another direction. Works such as Appealing to Emotions of Lascaux, Only Within This Reciprocity, Unclear Animal, and Passage, Pew, Reverse, and Well Floor Plan involve collected vintage photographs and images discovered on the internet transferred to the scraps of leather and added drawings. Images and symbols of unknown origins swirl chaotically on the irregularly shaped leather, which resembles the natural landscapes or the outlines of ancient maps. These images, mysterious and enigmatic due to the lack of information, metaphorically represent something but remain as empty symbols, much like their forgotten sources over time.
The mix of Seomdolmoru with images that are not Seomdolmoru presents an intriguing landscape. Old vintage images simulate something that does not actually exist (or is unknown) as if it were part of Seomdolmoru. Conversely, the deconstructed and corroded Seomdolmoru images dissimulate the actual Seomdolmoru as if it were non-existent. Only the small yet distinct Seomdolmoru(#17, #18, #33) occasionally offers a hint of existence amidst the calm chaos.
In this process, the artist subverts the inherent properties of photography and shifts its meaning. The erased objects resist the transparency and documentation typically associated with photographic images. By transferring the photographic image onto fabric and leather, the artist diminishes mechanization and heightens the subjective nature of the work. Unlike preserved photographic paper, the fabric exposed to harsh natural elements decays rapidly, disrupting the permanence afforded by reproducibility. The artist's work does not end with the photograph but rather begins with it. The image built on the boundary of photography and the two-dimensional surface transcends the initial photograph, evolving into an exploration of existence, narrative, and temporality. It delves into themes of destruction, creation, annihilation, and the inherent cycles within these concepts.
3.
Records of disappearance and loss evoke the notion of time as repetitive and cyclical. The work Untitled (Submerging Seaside…) starts with a brief text where the artist documents impressions or discoveries from Seomdolmoru. The artist then translates this text into another language using a translation tool and subsequently re-translates it back into Korean. Through this process of translation and re-translation, the original sentences and words gradually transform. This results in partial loss and the introduction of additional, sometimes awkward elements. Beneath these altered forms, the scope of meaning and interpretation subtly shifts as well.
Located in one corner of the exhibition space, You Can't Smell the Smell of the People Who Carried Them consists of a video documenting the ruined space of Seomdomoru and a sound performance** conducted within that space. The artist recorded voices muttering in the abandoned building and then repeatedly played and recorded them using various recorders to create a single sound. The once clearly distinguishable voices are deconstructed, blurred, and lose their original quality. This process is repeated until the initial voice transforms into a frequency unique to the space. The original utterance becomes one with the space and resonates with it.
The video work, documenting a static act, illustrates the continuous passage of time in the abandoned space without any special devices or processing. The empty, uninhabited space initially appears vacant, but a subtle glow of light reveals floating dust and pollen that fill it. The dust has accumulated over an indeterminate period, but it must have originated from somewhere, exfoliated, and lost. Their constant movement suggests that they are once again on their way somewhere.
The text, sound, and video works are based on the artist's active actions and interpretations accumulated over time. The artist transforms records of loss into abstract shapes, removing any direct association of “I was there.” The degraded and fragmented letters, resonant sounds, and images that merge the past and the future reveal the circularity of time, reconstructing a bygone era while simultaneously hinting at a future destined to be eroded by time’s passage.
4.
In the shadow of time, solid objects transform, and clear shapes blur like fading memories. The artist seems to question whether anything can remain fixed or if everything is subject to change: "Do you still believe in the existence of an entity even if you can't see it?" However, the artist's inquiry is not about surrendering to the absolute power of time. Rather, it engages with the nature of time as movement and change (Aristotle), positioning the question within the broader historical and ecological cycles of rise and fall. This inquiry connects to the artist’s own existence, who must continue to create even in the absence of tangible reality. Kang’s work emerges as an exploration of time, existence, circulation, action, and hope.
(translated by Malpigg)
** The sound work in this piece is an homage to Alvin Lucier’s (1931–2021) “I Am Sitting in my Room” (1969).