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[junsojung-text]

Standing before dazzling novelty Ahn Soyeon

Sojung Jun’s oeuvre imbues a sense of unraveling a single ‘universe’ each time. The reason why her video running for several to a few dozens of minutes gives an impression that it configures a universe – without being confined to dealing with some scenes or incidences – would be because it has led us into a life of somebody. Facets of daily banalities shown by characters of nothing extraordinary used to immerse the audience as if to confront their life. Such transference is made possible because their life exists in a temporal flow which is nothing like ours. Unlike us that are being swirled in the ‘contemporariness’ by being consciousness of somebody’s stride in the middle of the common time slots that are huge, abstract and undoubtable, they maintain a single ‘universe’ because they live through their own solitary time.

The image of an old man fasting a fishing rod in the glittering sea under the sunlight is attuned to the slow speed of Mother Nature to the point of being described to catch the years (The Old Man and the Sea, 2009). Those that tacitly fulfill their given roles despite being out of spotlight for long – laborers in a kimchi factory (Something Red, 2010), a mechanical embroiderer (A Day of A Tailor, 2012), the last theater signboard painter of the kind (Time Regained, 2012), a clown doing tightrope walking (Last Pleasure, 2012), a taxidermist (Angel of Death, 2014), a haenyeo (a female diver who dives into the sea without any equipment to harvest seafood) (Treasure Island, 2014), and an earthenware artisan (The Poem of Fire, 2015) – are people that have sublimated their career out of the spotlight into a domain of art through repetition and skillfulness.

Sometimes, those that are exiled into a different tempo-spatiality from us by being trapped in unexpected restraints in life are on Jun’s radar. They are a foreign immigrant worker that has a lot to say about their life (Story of Dream: Suni 2008), an overseas adoptee (Interval Recess Pause, 2017), a refugee or a blind (The Ship of Fools, 2016) or those that are distinguished or excluded due to the race (Specters, 2017).

That their life is sublimated as an exclusively meaningful shelter – instead of a shabby wasteland – is attributable to Jun’s endeavors to step closer to the meaningful moments that only exist in their dreams and memories. Efforts to step into somebody’s time and space by mobilizing all possible media and senses connect us to their world – albeit temporarily – although complete restoration and sharing are impossible. They become the main characters in their own play on the stage that is sophisticatedly set by the artist.

Jun’s act of art paying attention to those that are pushed out of the contemporary movement in today’s world replete with novelty and change is an act of resistance to show her will of not being swirled by the entire and violent flow in the fancy name of ‘progress.’ Unstoppable curiosity over discovery of novelty seems to take us to innovation and a better future, but a rosy future is inevitably the stage of capitalism behind which remain the voices of those that are excluded from the history as well as endless ruins that are no longer new. It is the reason why we expect the view of ‘Angelus Novus’[1] from artists despite the storm pushing us to the future.

Her interest in a forgotten domain has been supplemented by literary reference, but recently, she has further deeply contemplated over the point where modernity and avant-garde dreams disrupt before capitalism in the era of colonization through her research over early-day poetry of genius poet Yi Sang (1910-1937), the icon of the modern avant-gardism of Korea. By encountering multinational researchers of Yi Sang during her stay in Paris, the breeding ground of the modern culture, she searched for possibilities of hypothesis with Yi Sang in mind by escaping from the present through intersection of heterogeneous axes of time and space.

The starting point of her research and exhibition is Yi Sang’s poem <AU MAGASIN DE NOUVEAUTES>. It is a title piece among poetry series titled <Architecture Infinite Hexahedron> (1932) first released by literati and architect Kim Hae gyong in the penname of Yi Sang. It is also an enigmatic poem under the French title with combination of Japanese, classical Chinese characters, Chinese and English. The 22-line avant-garde poem translated as <A New Store> is full of knowledge and imagination over the concepts of physics and figures, and hatred towards cultural colonialism in the modern times and harsh criticism against consumptive capitalism.

The motif of the poem as a contemplative place is Mitsukoshi Department Store opened in Gyeongseong (the original name for Seoul) in 1930. Yi Sang conjured up ‘Architecture Infinite Hexahedron’[2]where squares are endlessly repeated as he encountered a flashy and complicated structure of the space. The new five-story store had numerous square-shaped showcases, and people realized a space of infinite repetition by repeatedly ‘going up and down’ on escalators/elevators. It is expressed as a recreational place in a rooftop garden – a modern architectural dream - for shopping-loving mademoiselles, which is filled up with the scent of a French Coty perfume.

Yet, most of the poetry is written to reveal that a department store representing novelty is a symbol of colonial ideas and is nothing more than an imitation of the Western modernity. A department store is not only an abnormal place to arouse Joseon (the former name of Korea) not equipped with modern production technologies to consume more but also a place to transplant the Japanese culture. Even Japan as its subject prioritizes the West, and points out a paradox of ‘self-colonialization’ as a cultural translator. A fad that starts in spring in France reaches the Eastern world in autumn, and even the main branch of Mitsukoshi Department Store in Tokyo – like a globe as a ball-shaped miniature of the earth and mademoiselles as mimicking monkeys in the rooftop garden – is just a copy of Bon Marche Department Store built in Paris in the 1850s.

Japanese’ craze over Germany’s renowned aircraft carrier Graf Zeppelin[3] known as then largest of its kind was strong enough to be applied to various ads including that of an anthelmintic drug. The poet pinpointed a phenomenon where even the victory of a technology that frees up humans ends up being dissolved in capitalism. Violence hidden behind the charm of novelty in modern times strides on the street like ‘military boots’, sweeping away precious small stuffs of the past. The poet compares himself to a helpless canary in a multilayered cage of mockery, confessing that there is nothing he can do to the horrific reality, simply saying ‘Ggood Bye’ pitifully.

Poetry acts as a source of inspiration for flexibly forming reasoning as a means of empathy and imagination despite the time gap of almost about one century. Yi Sang’s universe of poetry being indefinite, temporary and subject to a broad range of interpretation must have been an intriguing motif for Jun that takes an interest in the relationship between avant-garde aesthetic experimentation and political practices. The exhibition unfolds in multiple layers including a video where documentaries of the past and movie clips are montaged with the present moment in Seoul, Tokyo and Paris where sounds & texts, sculptures & publication of research paper, and spatial structures strike a harmony. Each piece of work is mutually interlinked, yet detached, which in turn exchanges a serial impact to one another. The process of repetition and a sort of violation amongst works is a methodology that is closely aligned with Jun’s goal of seeking for a runway from obsession with novelty.

A 25 minute-long video titled <Despair to be Reborn>(2020) as a center of the entire exhibition uses <AU MAGASIN DE NOUVEAUTES> as a prism to reflect the journey of an amplified light. Contemplative tempo-spatiality derived from the department store is expanded into the day and night of the past and the present, and also into skylines, subways, parks and back alleys in Seoul, Tokyo and Paris. The structure of the video is vaguely divided into such paragraphs as “In my dream where I was absent”, “In your dream where you were absent”, and “In our dream where we were absent.” Each of them brings in the present, past and some future. Yet, it’s not clear because – as the word ‘absent’ suggests – of the absence of a memory substituted with imagination and omission of a subject. A narration that is out of sync with each scene – just like the nonlinear spatial movement – and usage of Korean, Japanese and French is out of context with the subjects along with cacophony of a harp and gayageum (a traditional Korean zither-like string instrument with 12 strings) heightening the tension. Such an incidental encounter with inconsistency causes a chasm between images and words, which in turn approaches Jun as a chasm of a precious possibility who is to re-write the memory.

That the video is involved with a commercial space of <AU MAGASIN DE NOUVEAUTES> is reminded through an advertisement that opens up the work, yet cutting out middle parts. The unfamiliar voice of a narrator informing on “product information” presents Seon-bawi, Inwang Mountain's holy Immortal Meditation Rocks (or maybe some other similar looking rocks) as an item for sale. The voice also promotes new usages of the rocks as decorative gardening item or a storage space for one’s house keys. Just like how aircraft carrier Graf Zeppelin – as the amalgam of science and technology of the humankind – being appropriated as a capital on the signboard for an anthelmintic drug, the video jokingly predicts a formidable future of capitalism where even treasure-like mountains of the people of Korea could be traded as garden decorations. Yet, mentioning of a ‘storage place for hiding keys’ is conveyed as a secretive command. Jun recalls Yi Sang’s message to be awakened again in a new aspect through the arousal of despair by appropriating some phrases[4] from the work of Yi Sang: “Be in despair people, Be reborn people, Be reborn people, Be in despair people.” The artist seems to find a hope in ‘Child of the Night’[5] and this child does Parkour by traversing the contour lines of a city, denying a predictable future and seeking to inscribe his presence.

Her publication project <ㅁ> is directly derived from a repeated square as the key image in the poem, but it comprehensively indicates such signs as Korean Alphabet consonant ㅁ (mieum), Chinese character ㅁ (Ip Gu), a square screen and four dimensions to deal with the issues of space, language and image. An ad-hoc publication gathering was formed with her suggestion, engaging 11 specialists in various fields – architecture, art history, mathematics, film, music and language – and explored the past and the present, and Asia and Europe with a focus on the 1930s when Yi Sang was active along with his poetry. They have broadened up the possibilities of interpretation by using multi-languages and irregular meanings – features of a poem - and frequently utilizing signs. The participants suggested various outcome ranging from critical research to creative fiction and new ideation by using their own mother languages or special languages in each field – drawing and score, etc. Discussed were the following topics: the history of Passage, department stores, and the World’s Fair, aesthetics of avant-garde montage, irregular language usage and translation of literature during the Japanese colonial rule, political features of post-colonial and East Asian avant-garde poetry, surrealism and strategies of strolling, leaps and resistance of science and technology, dichotomy in the modern times and reasoning of reverse perspectives.

In a chapter among them all, Jun released <Diagrammed Robot>(2020) in a new format of a critical fiction. It is an interpretation of Yi Sang’s poetry and a handbook on her own video works where she suggests a method deviating from a newly established code system or a perspective view: an anatomical map of a robot in the name of a ‘drawing in a reverse perspective.’ While her prior works were dominated by a perspective view in the form of a scenery, this time, she reversed it to suggest an anatomical map of a robot with limbs and organs. The robot as a scrap metal and chunk of meat is a surrealistic monster as a result of ‘ad-hoc cross-breeding of the past and the future.’ And surrealistic reasoning is the artist’s authority to make a crack in the reality.

The first part of the video embodies a peculiar image of Seon-bawi rocks in Inwang Mountain and Guksadang Shrine as a religious furnace that embraces all sorts of beliefs within. It is considered as a ‘head or a mass.’ The movement of escalators in a department store or in a subway in Paris is revealed as the ‘torso or chest.’ The ‘eyes or nose’ would reject a single view, and the ‘ears or mouth’ connected in Mobius strip is based on the reference of Ritronello which follows the disorder in chaos. Graf Zeppelin in modern times and drones in the contemporary period are compared to the ‘legs or toe nails’ realizing the magic art of shortening distances and warp, while ‘arms or hands’ establish a temporary pathway as a tactile sense of identifying the world of night. Hypothesizing a runway by combining the ironical and connecting time and space is what the ‘genitals or pelvis’ related to the reproduction of robots is to do. Lastly, the duty of redefining the perception of time and memories to ‘multiplicate a single one’ and ‘delete what is fixed’ is imposed on the ‘heart or viscera.’[6]

Jun reintroduced the medium of sculpture, which she has not used for long, to this exhibition, further diversifying and giving a volume to the layers within. She explored the primate form of sculpture as a chuck being reminiscent of stones or rocks. These were made out of melted plastics – PET bottles, globes, straws and disposable cups – and plastic sheets. They are suggested as dissolved consumptive capital and scenes of a destroyed city, reflecting Yi Sang’s dream world: he imagined a city where everything would boil and melt down when sirens ring at noon, dreaming of wings to grow under armpits. Visualized is a world that has been converted into the world of pure and transparent chunks after the existing values and systems break down by embodying the lines reminding of globe fragments or roads and remains of daily living. It could also be a pathway connecting the time from the past to the future – from one end to the opposite end in space. Moreover, this primitive chunk derived from a scenery – interestingly enough – is reorganized into <ORGAN> of heart, knees, hips and eyes, moving forward as a dynamis of new birth while forming a fragmented body.  

Yet, would the sign of this birth be realized? Would there be a valid key hidden in Seonbawi rocks in Inwang Mountain – the center of modern Seoul, yet the epicenter of irrational and premodern beliefs – to reverse the historical flow after the modern period? Jun made <Storage>(2020) resembling a miniaturized Inwang Mountain with precious silver, under which she hid a suspicious key inscribed with <AU MAGASIN DE NOUVEAUTES>. Silver is a capital that flew in from the Orient enabling the modernization in the West, thus is an ironical historic evidence. While the operability of the key is unidentifiable, the small mountain plays a role being ‘disguised’ as a precious product on the shelf in a showroom resembling either a temporary scaffold or a new store.

[1] Walter Benjamin that owned Paul Klee’s printmaking work of <Angelus Novus> (1920) called it the ‘angel of history,’ diagnosing the historical scene driven by a storm of progressiveness.

[2] It is the name of a spatial diagram used in architecture. The diagram called ‘tessère’ in French was first suggested by Dutch artist and architect Theo van Doesburg in 1925. It is a theory where the internal and external parts in a space are determined by the shape of a square, and the shape is infinitely expandable in all dimensions. A similar idea is found in paintings of Mondrian engaged in De Still movement. Kim Jiwoo, Lee Soojong, ‘Intellectuals who diagnoses modern society including himself’, Journal of the Korean Poetics Studies, no.57 p.174

[3] LZ No.127 sailing out for a world travel in August 1929 departed from Germany, and arrived at Tokyo, Japan as a stopover site before crossing the Pacific Ocean after travelling the Eastern Europe and Russia. It achieved a travel time which was 22 hours faster than expected by finishing off the sail in 102 hours for 6,600 miles. It is said that the Japanese were utterly shocked and overwhelmed by the dominant science and technology of the West, and acclaimed for a narrower geographical gap between the East and the West.

[4] Last line in <Notes to the Lines 2> in Yi Sang’s poem series <The Third Angle Design> (1931)

[5] “Topologists are children of night. Algebraists deal with the knife of strictness with absolute clarity.” It is a comment of French mathematician and philosopher René Frédéric Thom(1923-2002) pinning hopes on topologists that imagined connection of tempo-spatial continuums and organisms, instead of algebra as the basis of modern technological development through absolute clarity. Emmanuel Ferrand, “Child of the Night”, <ㅁ>, organpress, 2020, p.284  

[6] Sojung Jun, “Diagrammed Robot” <ㅁ>, organpress, 2020, pp.305-315 ⬅︎

[junsojung-text]

매체와 감각의 질서     김남시(이화여자대학교 조형예술학부 조교수)    

전제로서의 매체       송은 아트센터의 전소정 개인전 《Kiss me Quick》의 출발점에는 눈을 감은 채, 다시 말해 의도적으로 시각을 결핍시킨 채 바르셀로나 도시를 거닐었던 경험이, 촉각적이고 청각적으로만 경험했던 도시의 감각이 있다. 그렇게 해서 탄생한 일련의 추상적 드로잉을 음악가가 음악으로 번역하고 그를 안무가가 다시 몸의 동작으로 옮겼다. 촉각과 청각이 시각으로, 그것이 다시 움직이는 신체의 촉각적 시각과 결합한다. 언뜻 보면 이러한 실험은 시각중심 문화의 편협함과 폐쇄성을 극복하려는 인간학적 실천의 계보에 서 있는 것으로 보인다. 우리의 문화, 특히 시각중심 문화가 다른 신체감각들을 어떻게 축소시켰는지를 감지하게 하면서 우리가 상실해 가는 다양한 신체 감각들을 활성화시키려는 프로젝트 말이다. 역사적으로 예술은 특히 이러한 시도와 관계가 깊다. 분업화되는 시민사회의 노동과 직업 방식이 인간을 일면적으로 파편화시키고 있다는 진단 하에 유희로서의 예술을 해법으로 제시했던 프리드리히 실러 이후, 예술에는 분열 혹은 파편화된 감각을 치유하고 상실된 인간의 총체성을 재건하는 데 기여하는 잠재력이 있다고 여겨져 왔기 때문이다. 오늘날까지도 적지 않은 예술가들이 소위 ‘근원상태의 통일된 감각의 회복’을 목표로 이러한 예술적 실천을 벌인다. 드물지 않게 이 시도들은 정신주의 또는 심령주의적 경향으로 나아가기도 한다.    외관상 유사점에도 불구하고 전소정의 작업은 이러한 예술적 계보와 결정적으로 구분된다. 그 첫 번째 이유는 전소정의 작업이 영상이라는 기술적 매체에 기반하기 때문이다. 독일의 매체학자 프리드리히 키틀러가 지적하듯 사진, 축음기, 영화, 타자기와 같은 기술적 매체는 이전 시기 통합적으로 작동하던 개별 감각들을 서로 분리하고는 각각에 매체적 지위를 부여하였다. 문학의 창작과 향유에서는 통합되어있던 청각과 시각이 축음기와 사진, 영화를 통해 서로 분리되어 별도로 저장, 기록, 재생될 수 있게 된 것이다. 소리가 없는 시각적 인상을 전해��는 사진이나 무성영화, 눈앞에 현전하지 않는 사람과 사건의 소리를 들려주는 축음기를 통해 우리는 모습을 보지 않고 소리만을 듣거나 소리 없이 모습만을 보는 데 익숙해졌다. 현실에서는 분리되지 않는 시각과 청각을 각기 독립적으로 분리되어 지각하는 것이다.   주목해야 할 사실은 기술적 매체가 초래한 이러한 감각의 분리 이후에야 비로소 감각들 상호간의 번역과 상응의 가능성이 사유되기 시작했다는 점이다. 칸딘스키는 회화를 통해 소리와 색채, 청각적 감각과 시각적 감각 사이의 번역과 연관의 가능성을 탐구했고, 보다 유물론적이었던 모홀리 나기는 축음기 원판 위에 그래픽 기호(새김문자)를 새겨 넣음으로써 시각적인 것과 청각적인 것의 직접적 상응에 입각한 새로운 음악을 제안했다. 이러한 예술적 시도들이 사진, 영화, 축음기와 같은 기술적 매체들이 등장한 이후에 이루어진 것은 우연이 아닌 것이다.       그럼에도 불구하고 분리되고 파편화된 감각의 통합을 이야기하는 사람들은 여전히, 그러한 시도를 통해 ‘회복’되고 ‘재건’되어야 할 근원적인, 모든 감각이 통일되어 있던 영혼의 상태에 대한 낭만주의적 이념을 고수한다. 그리고는 다양한 신비주의적, 정신주의적 시도들을 통해 그렇게 상정된 어떤 근원적 신체 감각의 복원이 이루어질 것이라고 여긴다. 이러한 시도들은 인간과 기술을 근본적으로 대립시키고는 그 둘 사이의 변증법을 이해하지 못한 소치다. 기술적 매체가 우리의 감각을 분화, 독립시킨 이후 감각들 사이의 결합은 낭만주의적, 형이상학적 이념이 꿈꾸는 방식으로 이루어질 수 없다. 기술적 매체의 등장 이후 감각들의 통합이나 공감각의 문제는, 신체 감각들을 초월적 내부에서 부터 통합한다고 하는 ‘영혼’같은 개념에 의존할 수 없다. 오히려 그것은 그 기술적 매체들을 활용함으로써, 서로 다른 매체들 사이의 ‘번역’이나 ‘연합’의 방식으로 가능하다. 시각과 청각을 넘어 촉각과 후각까지 매개해 줄 미래의 VR 기술은 어떤 근원적인 감각의 재현 기술이 아니라, 서로 다른 매체 감각들의 연합 기술에 다름 아니다.    전소정 작가는 ‘공감각’에 대해 이야기하면서 ‘영혼’이나 ‘인간’ 등을 소환하지 않는다. 자신의 작업이 감각들의 기술적 분리라는 전제 위에 서 있음을 충분히 의식하기 때문이리라. 대신 작가는 감각들 사이의 ‘번역’에 대해 말한다. 그리고는 그 감각들의 ‘공(共)’을 인간[의 영혼]이 아닌 매체[의 조작]에서 찾는다. 이로부터 전소정 작가 작업의 흥미로운 미적 긴장감이 생겨난다. 《Kiss me quick》에서 작가는 전시장 전체를 어둡게 해 시각적 지각을 약화시키고 몸을 잔뜩 구부리거나 낮추게 만드는 건축적 장치를 설치했다. 어두운 복도를 조심스럽게 걸으면서, 파편화된 스크린에 의해 분리되고 왜곡된 프로젝터 이미지들을 애써 조합해 보려 애쓰면서, 마치 스케이트보드 장처럼 구부러진 스크린과 관람석에 불편하게 자리잡고 서서 영상을 보면서 관객은 시각 위주의 관습이 주던 편안함과는 거리가 먼 신체적, 감각적 개입을 강요받는다. 영상 작업에서도 작가는 다양한 매체적 조작과 조합을 통해 감각을 재배치시킴으로써 새로운 방식의 감각의 통합을 이루어낸다. 감각을 분리시킨 (기술적) 매체를 능숙하게 배치함으로써 독특한 통합적 감각을 불러내고 있다는 말이다. 비평가 안소현은 이를 ‘감각의 탐닉’이라 칭한다. 이 단어가 불러내는 수상쩍은 혐의에도 불구하고 전소정의 작업은 유미주의적 자기충족이 아니다. “누군가의 상실, 제약, 단절, 추락의 이야기를” 펼쳐내는 작가의 작품들은 이러한 감각의 탐닉을 통해 “경험적, 언어적, 역사적, 정치적, 사회적 자료들을 감각의 질서로 번역”한다. 《내 세대의 노래》에서는 1960년대 독일로 이주했던 한국인 광부와 간호사들의 이야기 <꿈의 이야기: 순이>와 글로벌 시대 이주와 경계, 정체성의 문제 <유령들>이 그렇게 ‘감각의 질서로’ 번역되었다.           글로벌 시대의 유령들         구글 맵. 전 세계 어떤 장소든 커서만 움직여 도달할 수 있는 그 이미지 세계에서라면 ‘내 위치’에서 다른 곳으로 이동하는 일은 마우스 동작만으로 간단히 이루어진다. 마우스 커서가 지구 위 어떤 장소를 찾아가는데 걸리는 시간은 불과 몇 초에 지나지 않는다. 대롱대롱 커서에 매달린 픽셀로 가상화된 나는 지구 위 어느 곳에든 쉽게 내려앉을 수 있다. 그러면 마우스가 도달한 곳, 그 미시적 장소 – 예를 들어 스페인의 ‘걸리버 공원’ - 의 모습이 순식간에 우리 눈 앞에 펼쳐진다. 여기서 나는 유령처럼 자유롭다. 글로벌 시대 세계 경제위기와 도처의 내전 등으로 인해 사람들이 자신이 살던 곳을 떠나 다른 곳으로 이동하는 일이 폭발적으로 늘어났다. 유엔 난민기구에 따르면 2016년 말 전 세계 강제 이주민의 수는 6,560만 명으로 전해 대비 300,000명 증가했고, 한국에 난민을 신청한 숫자도 2008년 364명에서 2016년 7,542명으로 20배 이상 늘었다. 그런데 글로부스 위에서 이루어지는 이들의 이동은 구글 맵에서 스페인의 한 공원을 찾아가는 것만큼 그렇게 수월하지 않다. 현실의 세계에서 ‘내 위치’와 지구 상 다른 장소 사이에는 삼엄한 국경 수비대가, 체류 허가와 입국거부, 강제출국 등의 행정적 힘들이 법 앞의 문지기처럼 지키고 서 있다. 그 힘들을 피해 다른 장소로 이주하려던 수십, 수백 명의 사람들이 지중해에서 목숨을 잃는다.       이미지 세계의 이주에서는 나의 신체와 말은 아무 작용도 하지 않는다. 놀이터에서 놀고 있는 아이들의 얼굴이 보일 정도로 가까이 간 그 장소에서도 나의 모습은 다른 사람들에게 보이지 않고, 나의 말은 그들에게 ��리지 않는다. 그런데 비행기나 배를 타고 내려 내가 디딘 딱딱한 지면의 현실에서는 그렇지 않다. 내가 아무 말도 하지 않아도 나의 생김새, 나의 신체는 그들에게 말을 한다. 나는 중국인이거나, 일본인이거나, 베트남인이 된다. 내가 아무 말도 하지 않아도, 택시 기사는 내가 아시아에서 온 사람이라는 걸 본다. 내가 말을 하더라도, 내가 그의 언어인 불어로 말을 하더라도 그 말은 그에게 ‘보일’ 것이다. 내가 말을, 예를 들어 영어나 불어를 말하면 나의 말은 그 억양과 발음을 통해 또 다른 말을 한다. 나는 외국인이거나, 이민자이거나, 이 언어 속에서 태어나지 않은 타자라고. 나의 신체, 나의 언어, 그를 말하는 나의 억양이 나의 의도와 상관없이 어떤 의미를 발생시킨다. 그 의미는 나의 심리적, 사회적 행동반경을 구획 짓고 나의 실존에 흔적을 남긴다. 누군가는 내 말의 억양에 살짝 눈살을 찌푸릴 수도 있고, 누군가는 나의 “생김새에 마음을 놓을” 수도 있다. 내가 아닌 나의 모습과 나의 말(투)가 만들어내는 이 복잡한 상호 작용의 힘. 시간축조작 글로벌 시대의 이 역설적 상황을 특유의 쿨한 표정으로 이야기하는 이 영상작품의 제목은 “유령들”이다. 유령은 과거에서 와 현재에 출몰한다. 과거에서 온다고 해서 유령이 온전하게 과거에 포함된다고 말할 수는 없다. 과거의 것이 현재에서도 출몰한다면 그 과거는 온전하게 종결되어 지나가 버린 것이 아니기 때문이다. 그렇다고 유령이 오롯이 현재에 속하는 존재라고도 말할 수 없다. 그렇다면 그를 유령이라 부르지 않을 것이다. 유령은 현재에 ‘있는’ 것이 아니라 현재에 ‘출몰’한다. 이렇게 출몰하는 유령의 출몰의 양상은 부엌에 가면 마주칠 수 있는 커피 잔이나 그릇의 그것과는 다르다. 이러한 점에서 유령의 시간성은 역설적이다. 그것은 현재에 출몰하면서도 과거의 것이며, 과거에서 기원하면서도 현재까지 이어져 있다.   움직이는 이미지는 그 자체로 유령에 가깝다. 우리가 영상에서 보는 것은 과거에 이루어졌던 움직임이다. 영상은 그 과거의 움직임을 우리 눈앞에서 다시 한 번 반복해 준다. 영상 속 안무가의 움직임은 유령처럼 우리 눈앞에 모습을 보이지만, 내 옆의 사물처럼 현전 (present) 하지 않는다. 그것은 현상하지만, 그를 통해 어떤 식으로든 현재에 작용하지만 실재하는 것이 아니다. 그를 보는 우리에게 현재적인 그 움직임은 그러나 과거의 것이다. 우리는 이미 일어난, 이미 사라진 움직임을, 현실에서는 결코 되풀이 될 수 없는 움직임을 현재 진행형으로 보고 있는 것이다. 영상이라는 매체와 유령과의 유사점은 이 뿐만이 아니다. 영상 매체는 이미 일어난 움직임을 되돌려 보여 줄 수 있다는 점에서도 과거와 현재를 자유롭게 넘나드는 유령에 가깝다. 움직이는 이미지는 시간을 거꾸로 되돌릴 수 있다. 아니 좀 더 정확하게 말하면 시간 속에서 이미 한 번 일어났던 움직임을 그것이 일어나기 이전의 상태로 되돌아가게 할 수 있다. 이렇게 말이다. “할머니의 여인숙은 다시 지어 올려졌다. 파이널 컷 프로에서 리와인드 버튼을 클릭하듯이 아주 간단하게 허물어진 폐허로부터 벽��이 하나씩 다시 결합하는 장관이 이어졌다.”     할머니의 여인숙이 ‘다시 지어 올려지는’ 위 장면은 기억이나 회상에 대한 묘사가 아니다. 기억은, 현재를 살고 있는 우리로 하여금 불현듯 과거의 한 순간으로 도약하거나, 과거의 어떤 순간을 빠른 속도로, 몽타쥬처럼 흘러가게는 하지만 그 움직임의 순서가 거꾸로 흐르는 장면을 보여주지는 않는다. 인간의 기억도 움직임의 선행적 시간성을 따르는 것이다. 그렇기에 이미지 프레임을 되돌려 만들어내는 역전되는 이미지, 거꾸로 되돌아가는 이미지는 기억과는 무관하다. 그것은 오로지 움직이는 이미지의 차원에서 기술적으로만 구현 가능한 것이다. 프리드리히 키틀러는 이러한 시간 축 조작(Time Axis Manipulation)을 기술적 매체가 제공한 가장 중요한 가능성으로 본다. 전소정은 인간을 포함, 세상 모든 것들이 종속되어 있는 시간의 비가역성을 거스르는 영상 매체의 이 기술적 가능성을 십분 활용한다. 그래서 무너져 내린 건물의 조각들이 다시 거슬러 올라가 온전한 건물로 달라붙고, 압착된 동전이 본래의 모습을 되찾고, 열차를 타고 스치고 지나가 버린 담장이 우리 눈 앞에 되돌아온다. 그것이 시간의 비가역성을 더 처연하게 감각하게 만든다.            

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새로운 익숙함, 낡은 낯설음 : 전소정의 영상 작업 김남시(이화여대 조형예술학부)

예술하는 습관

전소정 작가가 제작한 일련의 영상작업들 - <노인과 바다>, <Something Red>, <The King of mask>, <마지막 기쁨>, <어느 미싱사의 일일>, <되찾은 시간>, <마이 페어 보이>, <보 물섬>, <열두 개의 방>, <따뜻한 돌>, <사신>, <불의 시> - 을 ‘일상의 전문가’ 시리즈로 한데 묶어 부르는 건 어디까지나 편의적일 뿐이다. 이 제목은 마치 이 작품들이 사라지고 있는 다양한 직업군들을 찾아 보여주는 ‘인간극장’ 류의 다큐멘터리인양 오해하게 한다. 하지만 이것은 다큐멘터리가 아니다. 여기 등장하는 인물들은 인간 시대의 ‘주인공’도, 쇠락해 가는 오래된 직업들의 노스탤지어를 불러내는 ‘사라져가는 장인들’도 아니다.    이 작품의 비다큐멘터리적 성격은 그 형식에서부터 드러난다. 다큐멘터리를 ���향하는 영상작업에는 ‘보이는 것’과 ‘들리는 것’ 사이의 일정한 조응이 추구될 것이다. 거기서는 들리는 것, 예를 들어 주인공의 말이나 내레이션은 보이는 것을 설명하거나 부연하며, 보이는 것, 즉 화면은 들리는 것을 확증하거나 증언하는 관계로 맺어져 있다. 보이는 것과 들리는 것, 화 면과 사운드 사이의 이러한 조응을 통해 다큐멘터리는 ‘이것은 허구가 아니다. 이것은 사실이 다’라고 주장한다. 전소정 작가의 영상들은 이와 다르다. 작가는 보이는 것과 들리는 것의 조응을 의도적으로 파괴시키는 쪽이다.    이 영상 작품들에 나오는 내레이션은 화면에 보이는 인물에게 귀속되지 않는다. 거기에는 ‘나’라는 단어가 등장하지 않는다. 그렇다고 해설자라 할 만한 누군가가 화면에 등장하는 행위나 장면을 설명하는 것도 아니다. 인터뷰 내용을 바탕으로 작가가 작성한, ‘1인칭 자유 간접화법’이라 칭할만한 그 텍스트는 화면에 등장하는 인물에게도, 그렇다고 온전히 작가의 것으로도 환원되지 않는다. 그 텍스트를 발화하는 목소리 역시 작가에게도, 화면에 모습을 보이는 인물에게도 속하지 않는다. 비전문인의 낯설고 서투른 내레이션이 언뜻 다큐멘터리처럼 보이는 화면에 어색하게 결합되어 있다.    미싱사, 영화 간판장이, 줄광대, 김치공장 노동자, 인형 제작자, 피아노 조율사, 해녀, 낚시꾼, 박제사, 돌 수집가, 도공, 변검 예능인이 등장하는 건 그들의 진귀한 직업 때문이 아니다. 그들에게서 특정한 신체적 움직임, 이를테면 ‘습관’이 일어나고/벌어지고 있기 때문이다. 줄광대가 등장하는 <마지막 기쁨>(2012)에는 “제일 위험한 것은 눈과 귀가 열리는 것이다”라는 구절이 나온다. “줄에서는 눈이 없어야 하고 귀가 열리지 않아야 하고 생각이 땅에 머무르지 않아야 한다. 그렇지 않으면 바로 알고 줄이 나를 호되게 꾸짖을 것이다.” “보이지도 들리지도 않는 가면 안에서” 공연을 하는 변검 예능인, 그의 이야기를 다룬 <The King ofMask>의 내레이션은 “눈과 귀가 막힌 상태에서 오직 나 자신만을 믿어야 한다”라고 말한다. <노인과 바다>(2009)의 낚시꾼에게 고기를 잡는 방법은 보고, 듣는 것에 있지 않다. 그것은“기술과 시간, 그리고 믿음”이며, “운을 믿으며 기다리는 것, 그것이 전부다.” 영화 간판쟁이 - <되찾은 시간>(2012) - 에게 “간판 위의 시간은 견고한 두께로 쌓여간다. 볼 수 없어도 그것을 알 수 있다.”    공중에 매달린 외줄을 타고, 사람들의 눈 앞에서 순식간에 가면을 바꾸고, 성질이 급해 “잡은 지 1분도 안돼서 죽는” 청어를 낚고, “앞이 보이지 않는”, “저승길이 왔다갔다”하는 바다 속을 “허위적 허위적 들어나가며” 전복을 따고(<보물섬>(2014)), “인간이 눈으로 들을 수없는 음”(<열두 개의 방>(2014)을 맞추어 내는 일, 이런 일들은 눈과 귀에만 의존해서는 도무지 행해질 수 없을 것이다. 그를 위해서는 보이고 들리는 것을 넘어서는 “눈과 귀가 막힌 상태에서 오직 나 자신만을 믿는” 어떤 익숙함이 요구된다. 도공의 이야기가 담긴 영상작품 <불의 시>(2015)는 이를 “마음으로 익히고 몸으로 익히는 것”이라고 칭한다.     작가는 예술도 이러한 것이어야 한다고 생각하는 것 같다. 아니 적어도, 눈과 귀에 의존하는 대신 마음으로 익히고 몸으로 익히는 것이 예술의 기본이 되어야 한다고 여기는 듯하다. <예술하는 습관>(2012)은 손바닥 위에서 공을 돌리고, 성냥개비로 조심스럽게 탑을 쌓아 올리고, 컵의 물을 흘리지 않으면서 평균대위를 걷고, 불타는 링을 통과하는 등 반복적인 익힘의 장면들을 보여준다. 작품의 제목이 말해주듯 이 영상은 ‘예술’을 이런 반복적 연습을 통해 몸과 마음에 침전되는 ‘습관’과 관련시킨다. 이 ‘예술하는 습관’은 우리 삶에 실질적으로 유용한 것을 산출해내지 않는다. 영상에서는, 조심스럽고 끈질기게 지속되는 연습의 장면들이 흔들리는 물에 비친 달을 포착하려 하거나, 구멍 뚫린 독에 물을 길어다 붓는 장면과 함께 흐른다. 애써 쌓은 성냥개비 탑이 ‘어!’ 하는 순간 무너져 내리듯, 예술하는 습관이란 결국 “헛일, 한없는 헛걸음. 아무 곳에도 이르지 않는 한없는 제자리걸음”(<어느 미싱사의 일 일>(2012))이라는 말이다.    그렇기에 여기서 말하는 ‘예술하는 습관’은 ‘예술을 하기 위한 습관’이 아니다. 그것은 ‘습관으로서의 예술’, ‘예술이라는 습관’이다. 습관이 ‘마음으로 익히고 몸으로 익힘’으로써 생겨나는 것이라면 그것은 살아감 자체와 다르지 않을 것이다. 예술은 한 번의 이벤트를 위해 준비된 헬륨가스 넣은 고무풍선이 아니라, 그런 이벤트를 생각하고 준비하는 살아가는 과정 그 자체이며, 그것이 만들어 내는 몸과 마음의 ‘습관’이다. <Three Ways to Elis>(2010)는 우리를 이런 종류의 ‘헛일’로 안내한다. 전소정 작가의 작업 중 다큐멘터리적 성격이 가장 강한 이 영상은 핀란드의 숲 한 가운데 집을 짓고 홀로 살던, 한 때 무용수였던 예술가의 흔적을 보여준다. 그는 자신이 만든 주거지에 인형과 오브제들을 ‘설치’하고, 숲 한가운데서 홀로춤을 ‘공연’하며 살다 세상을 떠났다. 그에게 예술은 삶이라 불리는 그 습관, 결국 ‘아무 곳에도 이르지 않는 한없는 제자리걸음’에 다름 아니었던 것이다.    이러한 예술이라면 응당 ‘보이고 들리는 것’만으로는 아무 것도 해결되지 않을 것이다. 하지만 곤혹스러운 것은, 그를 접하는 사람들에게 예술은 그들의 눈과 귀, 보이는 것과 들리는 것에 의거할 수 밖에 없다는 것이다. 예술은, 보이는 것과 들리는 것을 통해 눈과 귀를넘어서는 것을 열어주어야 한다. 

영상이라는 매체

처음 전소정 작가의 영상 작업을 보았을 때 나는, 그녀가 사용하는 영상 매체를 내용을 전달하기 위한 수단으로만 여기고는, 작업들의 메시지나 내용에 해당될만한 것을 그 “속”에서만 찾으려 했었다. 그러다가 곧, 이 작가에게는 영상매체 곧, 소리와 움직이는 이미지들의 결합 자체가 작품의 내용과 떨어질 수 없이 함께 감각되어야 할 요소임을 알았다. 전소정의 작업에서 영상매체는 그저 이야기를 전달하기 위한 액자나 틀이 아니다. 그것은 작품의 표현적 중심이자 핵이다.    움직이는 이미지와 사운드의 결합으로 이루어진 영상매체는 근대 기술적 성취의 결과다. 독일의 매체 이론가 프리드리히 키틀러에 의하면, 축음기, 사진/영화와 같은 근대 기술적 매체는 통합되어있던 감각적 경험들을 서로 분리시켰다. 축음기가 등장하기 전 우리에게 사람이나 사물의 모습은 그 소리와 결합되어 있었다. 어떤 소리를 들었다면 우리는 그 소리의 원천인 사람이나 사물이 가청범위 안에 존재한다고 확신할 수 있었고, 우리 눈 앞에서 움직이는 사람이나 사물의 모습은 반드시 그 소리와 함께 감각되었다. 소리를 저장, 재생하는 축음기는 이런 상황을 변화시켰다. 축음기 덕분에 우리는 자신 곁에 아무도 없어도 누군가의 목소리와 노래 소리를 들을 수 있게 되었다. 청각적 경험과 시각적 경험이 시공간적으로 서로 독립한 것이다. 이와 유사하게, 사람이나 사물의 움직임을 그 소리에서 떼어내 저장, 재생할 수 있게 한 초기 무성영화는 우리에게, 사람이나 사물의 움직임만을 그 소리 없이 볼 수 있게 하였다. 이렇게 분리, 독립된 모습과 소리, 시각과 청각 경험을 유성영화가 다시 결합시켰지만, 이 매체적 결합은 본래 하나이던 소리-모습의 실재를 회복한 것이 아니라 그 둘을 상상적으로 봉합 한 것이었다.    이런 과정을 거쳐 탄생한 영상매체는 이제, 보이는 것과 들리는 것을 소리-모습의 실재와는 ‘다른 방식으로’ 결합시킴으로써 우리에게 새로운 종류의 감각적 경험을 제공한다. 원한다면 들리는 것이 보이는 것에 상응하도록, 다시 말해 화면과 사운드를 실제 현실의 그것에 맞추어 결합시킬 수도 있지만, 그와는 전혀 다른 결합도 가능하다. 전소정 작가는 후자의 방식을 따른다. 그녀는 모습과 소리, 보이는 것과 들리는 것의 임의적 결합이라는 영상매체의 가능성을 한껏 활용한다. 이 작가의 영상에서 들리는 것과 보이는 것은 서로 독립적으로 움직이면서, 둘 사이의 새롭고 다양한 결합을 통해 탁월한 미적 효과를 발휘한다.    연극이라는 쟝르는 시각적인 것과 청각적인 것의 통일로 정의된다. 영화와는 달리 연 극에서 배우들의 움직임과 소리는 처음부터 분리되지 않기 때문이다. 그런데, <Finale of Story>(2008)에서 연극 무대와 그 위에서 일어나는 움직임은 본래의 소리로부터 분리된 채영상의 시각적 재료로만 등장한다. 소리가 없는, 그래서 더 동화적이고 판타지적인 연극무대의 움직임에 낯선 목소리와 효과음들이 결합됨으로써 독특한 상상적 실재가 펼쳐진다. <꿈의 이야기 순이>(2009)는 영상매체의 가능성을 최대로 활용한 작품이다. 작가의 드로잉을 훑는 카메라 움직임으로만 구성된 화면에, 들리지 않는 소리를 자막 텍스트로 제공하던 무성영화의 기법이 접목되었다. 그렇게 생겨난 움직이는 이미지에 그 시각적 움직임과는 미묘하게 어긋나는 소리(효과음)들이 결합되어 꿈의 감각적 경험을 매체적으로 재현한다. <노인과 바다>(2009)에는 구름, 갈매기, 비바람, 나무, 돛단배, 정박한 배들, 조깅하는 사람과 물결이 아무 소리도 없이 1분 20초 가까이 움직인다. 소리와 모습을 실재와 다르게 결합함으로써 창조된 이 침묵하는 ‘등장인물’들은 성질 급한 청어를 낚는 낚시꾼의 진득한 기다림을 감각하게 한다. <보물 섬>(2014)의 첫 장면에는 파도 소리가 거꾸로 물러나는 파도의 움직임과 결합되어 있는데, 이 를 통해 돌이킬 수 없는 시간의 불가역성에 대한 감각을 일깨운다. 작가는 최근작 <광인들의배 La nave de los locos>(2016)에서 스케이트 보드를 타는 모습과 파도 소리, 파도의 모습 과 스케이트 보드 소리를 결합시켰다. ���로인해 바르셀로나 시내를 가로지르는 스케이트 보드 와 위태롭게 지중해를 떠다니는 난민들의 보트가 연결된 채 우리 몸과 마음의 감각에 함께 떠오른다. 말하자면 전소정은 ‘보이는 것’과 ‘들리는 것’을 임의로 결합할 수 있게 해준 영상매체의 기술적 가능성을 통해, 보이거나 들리지 않는 것을 감각하게 하고 있다는 것이다.        바로 이 지점에서 영상을 다루는 작가의 매체적 역량과 ‘습관으로서의 예술’이 만난다. 우리의 현실 속에서 자연스럽게 결합되어 있는 듯 보이는 소리와 모습은 때로 우리를 속이고, 위험에 빠뜨리며, 세상에서 벌어지는 중요한 일들을 알지 못하게 한다. 예술은, 보이는 것과 들리는 것을 새롭고 낯설게 결합해 보여줌으로써 우리 몸과 마음의 감각을 일깨워 보이거나 들리지 않는 것까지 감각할 수 있게 한다. 그럴 수 있는 예술의 힘은, 눈과 귀가 아니라 마음으로 익히고 몸으로 익힌 오래된 인류의 습관이 우리에게 남아있기 때문일 것이다. ⬅︎

[junsojung-text]

New Familiarity, Old Strangeness : The Video Work of Jun So-jung

Kim Nam-see, Ewha Womans University, Department of Art and Design

The Habit of Art

In some respects, tying together Jun So-jung’s video works –The Old Man and the Sea, Something Red, The King of Mask, Last Pleasure, A Day of Tailor, Time Regained, My Fair Boy, Treasure Island, The Warm Stone, Angel of Death, and The Poem of Fire– into an “everyday professional”seriesis merely a matter of convenience. The title could be misunderstood as inferring that the works are documentary-esque pieces of “human theater”thatportray variousjobs that are in the process of disappearing.Butthis is not a documentary, nor are thepeople depicted in it used simplyto serve as relicsof their era or practitioners of disappearing crafts,evokingnostalgia for jobs of the past that are now in decline.

The non-documentary nature of the work is clear from its form. In video works that aimed to serve as documentaries, therewould be a certain harmony soughtbetween showing and telling. They exist in a relationship between that which is told, such as using words or narration to explain or elaborate on the images, and that which is shown, such as using images to demonstrate or prove what is being said. Through a combination of showing and telling, images and sound, a documentary tries to say,“This is not fiction. This is real.”Jun So-jung’s worksare different. Jun intentionally tries to disrupt the harmony between showing and telling.

In these videos, the narration does not match the people depicted onscreen. The word “I”is not mentioned. But this does not mean there is some narrator talkingabout the action that is taking place in the actions or images unfolding on the screen. The text that appears on screen could be called “free first person indirect speech,”a new style that Jun created based on interviews. It is not reducedcompletely to the person onscreen or to the artist. Likewise, the narrating voice is neither the artist’s nor that of the person depicted. The narration feels clumsy and unprofessional, sitting awkwardly with the documentary-esque pictures onscreen.

It is not due to the special nature of theirjobs that these people appear: a machinist, film signwriter, tightrope walker, kimchi factory worker, dollmaker, piano tuner, female diver (haenyeo), fisherman, taxidermist, stonecollector, potter and mask changing entertainer. It is because of their distinct physical movements –their “habitus.”In Last Pleasure(2012), the tightrope walker says,“The worst thing to happen is the opening of eyes and ears.On the rope, eyes should be gone and ears should be shut. And thoughts should not remain on the ground. If not the rope will notice immediately and scold me severely.” The King of Masktells the story of a mask changing entertainer “in the darkness and deafness under the masks.”  “Blocked eyes and ears only have to believe myself.”the narrator says.According to fisherman in The Old Man and the Sea(2009), the key to catching fish does not lie in seeing or hearing. Instead, catching fish is about “believing in your luck. That’s all.” and It’s all about technique, time and belief.” For the film signwriter depicted in Time Regained(2012),“Time piles up on the sign solid and thick. I could see even though not visible.”

Teetering on a tightrope in midair, changing masks in the blink of an eye,

“She enters the water deep as can be floundering her way inside.” and “The path to death is right around the corner” (Treasure Island, 2014),hitting notes that “The notes inaudible for the eyes.”(TheTwelve Rooms, 2014)– all ofthese are feats that cannot be donesimply by relying on your eyes and ears. This requires a familiarity with the ability to “Blocked eyes and ears only have to believe myself.” In The Poem of Fire(2015), which tells the story of the potter, this is described as “Mastering with heart, acquiring the skill.”  

It appearsthat Jun believes art should be conducted in the same way–or at least that the foundation of art should be learning to feel with your body and mind instead of relying on your eyes and ears. The Habit of Art(2012) depicts a number of scenes where people display skills learned through repetition, such as holding a ball on their fingertips, carefully building a tower of matchsticks, walking a balancing beam without spilling glasses of water,or jumping through rings of fire. As the title suggests, this video relates the concept of art to a “habit”that becomes engrained in your body and mind through repeated practice. This “habit of art”does not produce anything that is of practical use in our lives. In the video, the scenes of steady, repeated practice attempt to capture the moon’s reflection shimmering in water,or are interspersed with imagesof water flowing out of a pot with a hole in it. Just as a carefully built matchstick tower can collapse in an instant, so the habit of art is also ultimately “Work in vain, endless steps in vain. Endless march in place, reaching nowhere.” (A Day of a Tailor, 2012).  

This means that the “habit of art”in this context does not refer to the habit of making art;it means “art as habit”or “the habit called art.”If a habit is produced by learning to feel something within one’s body and mind, then it is no different from living itself. Art is not like a helium balloon that is inflated for a single event;it is the process of thinking about and planning for the event,and the habits of body and mind that such a process produces. ThreeWays to Elis(2010) instructsus on this kind of “Work in vain.”It is the most documentary-esque of Jun’s videos, tracing the life of a former dancer who built a house in the middle of a forest in Finland and lived there alone. He(the dancer)“installed”a number of dolls and objects in this house,and spent the rest of his life dancingalonein the forest for them. For him, art was the habit called life, no different from “marching in place without ever going anywhere.”  

Of course, when it comes to this kind of art, simply showing and telling solvesnothing. The perplexing thing is that those who encounter art have no choice but to rely on their own eyes and ears. Art must use the seen and heard toopen up something beyond what can be seen or heard.  

The Medium of Video  

When I first saw Jun’s video works, I thought that video was simply the medium she had chosen to convey her ideas, and tried to look “within” to find something that might correspond to a message or meaning. SoonI realized that the video itself – the combination of sounds and moving pictures – needed to be experienced as something inseparable fromthe work’s content. For Jun, video is not simply a frame used to convey her stories. It is the expressive center and core of her works.

As a combination of sound and moving pictures, video is a product of modern technological advancement. According to German media theorist Friedrich Kittler, modern forms of media such as gramophone, photographs,and video are responsible for splitting sensory experiences that were once integrated. Before the advent of thegramophone, oursight of a person or object was always accompanied by sound. Whenever we heard a sound, we knew that the person or object that produced the sound must be within an audible distance, and we could hear the sounds produced by any person or object that we saw moving nearby. The phonograph changed this, as it was able to store and replay sounds. Thanks to the phonograph, we were able to hear a person’s voice speaking or singing even when no one was around us. This led to a temporal and spatial disconnect between aural and visual experience. Similarly, early silent films,in which moving images could be recorded and replayed independently of sound,allowed us to see people or objects moving without hearing the sounds they produced. The advent of soundmovies reunitedimages and visual experience with sound and aural experience, but this media-based connection did not take us back to the days of experiencing sight and sound together in the real world. Instead, it tied the two together in imaginary terms.  

The result of this was video media, which combine images and sound through showing and telling,but in a way that differs from real-life experience. This has provided us with a new kind of sensory experience. If you wish, you can match the sounds and images so that the image on the screen corresponds with its real sound, but other, completely differentcombinations are also possible. Jun opts for the latter, taking full advantage of the fact that video media can be created in a way that arbitrarily combines images and showing with sound and telling. In Jun’s work, what is shown and what is told operate independentlyfrom one another, and the diverse combinations that this contrast produces create a superb aesthetic effect.  

Theater can be defined as unity between the visual and aural;unlike a film, the movements and sounds of actors in a play cannot be separated.In TheFinale ofaStory(2008),however,the stage and the movements of the actors are separatedfrom the sound,appearing in the video as purely visual phenomena. The juxtaposition of the fantastic, fairy-tale action on stage with unfamiliar voices and sound effects produces aunique kind of imaginary reality. In Story of Dream:Suni(2009), Jun explores the possibilities of video media to the fullest. This video uses a silent film style, combining camera shots that skim over her drawings with inaudiblesubtitles. The movements produced are combined with sounds (sound effects)that are slightly out of step with the action onscreen, using the medium to reenact a dreamlike sensory experience. In The Old Man and the Sea(2009), there is a scene where clouds, seagulls, wind and rain, trees, sailboats, anchored ships, joggers,and waves move onscreen for about 80 seconds without any sound. Created by combining sounds and images in a way that does not reflect real life, these silent “actors”help the audience to feel the patience of the hot-tempered fisherman waiting to catch herring. In the first scene of Treasure Island(2014), images of waves rolling in are combined with the sound of waves receding, evoking thoughts about the irreversible nature of time. In her latest work The Ship of Fools(2016), Jun combinesimages of skateboarding with the sounds of waves, and vice versa. Associating a skateboarder traversing the streets of Barcelona with boats of refugees floating precariously in the Mediterranean Sea creates a unique sensation in both body and mind. Jun uses the technological possibilities offered by video media to create arbitrary combinations of showing and telling, allowing the audience to experience things which they cannot see or hear.

  This is precisely where the skillof a video artist meets the “habit of art.”The combinations of sounds and images, which appear naturally combined in our reality, can sometimes fool or even endanger us, or prevent us from understanding importantthings that are happening in the world. By combining sounds and images in unfamiliar ways, art affordsus the opportunity to experience things with our body and mind that we cannot see or hear. Art has this power because the ancient human habitus – things we learned with our bodies and minds instead of our eyes and ears – still lies within all of us.

 Kim Nam-See is a professor of studies in visual art at Ewha Womans University. He translated <Moscow Diary> of Walter Benjamin, <Memoirs of My Nervous Illness> of Daniel Paul Schreber and is currently translating the book of Friedrich Kittler and Boris Groys. He is also Author of <what is seeing> <Madness, Art, Writing> and writes art critics.

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[junsojung-text]

“Kiss me Quick” by Sojung Jun Limitation-Rise-Indulgence of Senses

Sohyun Ahn (Independent Curator)

As I go up the stairs traversing the café rather overly decorated with flowers, I encounter the glass door of the gallery. On the right of the door, it reads “ß” indicating left and “Gallery”, under which are shown the symbols prohibiting filming, recording, telephoning, eating and contact. Basically, in this space, only visual is allowed, meaning I have to put all my auditory, gustatory, and tactile senses to sleep and never use any means or tools to remember any images.  I think to myself that the arrow sign is not really necessary and that there are so many “NO” signs. A place that erases all the senses other than visual, interferes with our memory and excessively controls our experience… I am not just talking about this space, but most exhibition spaces are like that.

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The title of the exhibition is “Kiss me Quick”. The silhouette of the title’s type is very uneven, as if it had been zoomed in from an analog printing material. Maybe the letters were not cut out well, which explains the infiltration of other letters. Anyways, “Kiss me Quick” is a name of a cocktail mixing red fruit juice, apple juice, and sparkling water, etc. with vodka as base. Come to think of it, the sixth floor of the SongEun building is occupied by a vodka company. I imagined for a second the sparkling red bitter and sweet taste in my mouth, but I soon put aside my gustatory sense since it was banned in this space. [kısmıkwık]. It is a repetition of an aspirated sound “k” and short vowel “I”. I found it even awkward to say it out loud in an exhibition hall, but the sound of the title is surely piquant and sparkling. Given the fact that the title was named after a cocktail, it is like a self-contenting sound, just like scat in jazz. There are many cocktail names out there that are overly simple and infantile associated with colors and tastes of the liquor. Red lip or sweet kiss is a very banal description, but if the taste can be felt while pronouncing the word, then the titles seems to be appropriate. Now, I decide to put behind the thought of taste and focus on “looking” around the exhibition.

A dimlight is shed upon musical score no. 5. It’s a score for stringed instruments that was hand-drawn and cut into pieces and reassembled. So much traces of a hand for a music score. Also, phrases like “tap strings with the bow”, “with the high pressure of the bow” reminded me of sounds that clang like a percussion instrument or movements of the bow bouncing back and forth from the strings, even though I am a laymanin stringed instruments. The arrow in the score seems to indicate the flow of the music. However, this arrow, unlike the unnecessary one next to the “Gallery” type at the entrance, is very disruptive in its own. The performer can surely know the order of the next music with this arrow, but he or she doesn’t have to perform in the same order. The arrow transforms this musical score into a completely different one, from all the other scores premising a safe, parallel connection. No wonder I felt like I had to move to another place after playing a piece of this score, if I were to accurately play this musical score.  

Somewhere further below the musical note no. 5, on a lightless dark wall hung two pencil drawings. They were definitely drawn with eyes closed. That is because after a cluster of lines that are grouped into one mass, then appear the lines that make their way through to find another space, and again a group of lines follow, and then they overlap with one another. These lines are not preciselymoving towards a vanishing point, but are hesitant, wandering and falling as if strayingaround the desert with no visual references solely relying on their sense of touch. Then, they are disconnected and then connected again, just like before when a piece of sound/noise was played in the musical score and then moved onto the next piece with the help of an arrow.  With the visual dogmatism now gone, the tactile senses become a series of irregular fragments. So, I close my eyes. Now,fragmentsof sounds coming out from the speaker abound. These sounds come to an irregular halt, just like a blind man who is catching his breath after passing a district of a hustling city just before crossing the road, or a person trembling with fear that he might be going around in circles even after having gone numerous sand dunes in a dessert.

The sound rides and goes over the hill. It is a white hill, whose corners are edgy, made out of wood. I follow the sound that went past the hill to take a turn along the silhouettes of the hill. There feature two simple movements overlapping at the top and bottom. One is a person going around in circles, and the other is a hand moving along the corners of the hill. The movements inside the monitor are repeated over and over. This time, they do not hesitate. The movements are repeated in a stable and resigned manner, just like the footsteps of a blind man who has alreadyentered a desert.    

The light rides and goes over the hill. As I take a turn around the silhouette of the hill, now appears a structure of a forest whose top is blocked and the bottom is open. A person who is lost the middle of a dark forest desperately struggles to look for any sound and light coming from outside to escape. On the other hand, an able woodcutter knows how to read the light and the sound inside a forest.  He is adept in reading the ruggedness of the space through sounds and light just like braille: knowing where the sound and light go,  bump and come back and where they end up being absorbed and buried.

“Exhibition to the 3rd floor. Push”, it reads at the exit. Suddenly I come to myself again. What did I do till now in this dark room? I activated my appetite and felt around the space following the light and the sounds. My gustatory, auditory, and tactile senses once banned at the entrance have now all revived, and the only allowed visual sensation has now become inactivated with few minimal functions left.

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As I enter the hall on the 3rd floor, at my feet, I can see the forest that I had just seen. The light and the sounds go through the hole to flow into the upper floor. The text barely visible under the flown-in light includes secrets behind these unfamiliar spaces. The text beginning with “closes the eyes” illustrates the artist’s all forms of struggle to find the coordinates in a visually-limited state (<Metaphysical Dissection>(2017)). The invisible body is struggling hard to capture even the vague colors, play the saved images and capture the changes in speed in light of the experience. In the end, the artist seems to have realized that in orderto understand the space in a visually limited state relying on tactile sensations, she has to repeatedly read the gap between the space and her own body. That is, despite visual constraints, it is clear that gravity is in action, thus the body is used as a verticalaxis. To someone who cannot see, the angle between his body and the world becomes an important coordinate, and the space is constructed to allow an easy understanding of such coordinate. The slightly inclined boards grow larger and repetitive, and while moving forward by placing hands on each and every board one by one, one can easily reach a narrow hallway that leads us to another room. Images are projected on these incremental boards, but the movements of dancers in the images are all fragmented, and in between theseboards appear again the bits and pieces of drawing and musical scores. On the wall of a hallway leading to another room, feature repeated matte-white and glossy-white oblique lines that are inclined at a similar angle as the boards. These two types of white color are more distinct under a dim light than a strong light, and even if I completely close my eyes, I can feel around the space thanks to the different surface textures and move to the next space. At this point, a visitor, although he cannot see straight, has now learned his way to find the right path. .

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The video displayed on a slightly oblique screen is <Interval. Recess. Pause.>(2017). The title is the juxtaposition of words from 『Dictée』by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha. The voices of people are intermittent, vacillating and then suddenly dropped. Not only Theresa Hak Kyung Cha but also the characters in the video for some reason have become distant from the place of memory, and the colors, taste and touch felt in this distant place are reproduced in a language. However, why are they clinging to these indescribable difficult sensations rather than objective easy information when describing their experience back in the days? In fact our experience already has the answer.  The more quickly sensation is paralyzed, the more difficult to be described in language and relies on physical conditions, the longer they stay in your memory. These sensations are different from memories that had been intentionally stored by intelligence and called upon by language. That is whywhen we smell something, although the smell is very distinct and sharp, we really don’t have a clue as to why the smell is so distinct, so we try very hard to remember what the smell it is. A sensation always appears unexpectedly, drops suddenly and then disappears abruptly.  The performer in the video expresses this type of irresistible senses. A sensation that we cannot prevent from approaching us resembles a rainbow with its indistinct silhouette yet a strong, distinct existence.

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Finally <La Nave de Los Locos>(2016). A video installed in a skateboarding park-like space begins with a laser-close look at the painting with the same title of Hieronymus Bosch. The voice gives a hint about “you.” “This is what you tell me. The best option is not to be born. But if you are already born, not to be expelled is the best.”  This video is a letter sent to Cristina Peri Rossi, an exiled writer of the novel 『La Nave de Los Locos』. Whereas the two previous works dealt with our primary senses such as sound, light, taste, and touch, this video seems to have called upon so much information with language. The voice telling us the barbaric history where all the insane men were put together in each city and sent off on a boat to be sequestrated, suddenly reads out all these meaningless names of electronic displays, banners, and signboards, and the video points out for us each and every name of the streets the skateboarder goes through via Google Map. Moreover, it tells us the names, age, and stories of the exiled, deported and LGBT. Finally the artist tries to explain Bosch’s painting to a blind dancer in Barcelona, whose words are again translated intoCastilian, Catalan, and English. It may be quite natural for a visitor, who had groped around different dark spaces with limited senses to reach this work, finds it difficult to digest this saturated state of language.

However, if a visitor has faithfully followed the process of training (limited) senses that Sojung Jun had placed in different spaces, then he or she would be able to discover the sensuousorder that reconstructs all these abundant information. The artist zooms in on Bosch’s painting (in digital image) to the point that pixels are visible, and then allows the visitor to skim through the screen with a cursor pointing to a specific spot. This close-up was surely meant to take a closer at all the historic scenes, but it does not stop at a point when the image is most clearly visible, but goes on to the point of revealing pixels, implying that there is a hidden intention behind such attempt. This is similar to a movement of groping around the image with one’s fingertip and moving forward (the kind of pleasure felt when the pixels and the cross-shaped cursor overlap and disappear!). This tactile interpretation is soon translated into a movement of a skateboarder in Barcelona groping around the street floor. And the indistinctvoice reading out the signboards are translated into images with smudged colors. It is not about picking out only meaningful words, but the act of reading and feeling around all types and signs coming into our realm of vision is comparable to that of a blind man who has to feel around the spaces in between to move to a nearby place.  Having to do many translations to deliver a message to someone is also likened to the process of feeling around different ways towards communication. After all, all movements in this video are tactile recitation.  

Meanwhile, the exiled are subject to sympathy as they dream to “return to the times that cannot be returned to”. However, artist Sojung Jun shows sympathy (with the risk of causing ethical controversy) but also shows a long yearning for maximum level of tactile sensation that they could have felt. Those exiled, deprived of the right to stand on a solid and flat ground, need to develop a sense of touch and equilibrium tantamount to that of a surfer who can stand on the waves in the sea in order not to drown. Sojung Jun seems to improperly envy these exceptional senses of lesbian writer Christina Peri Rossi, who had exiled from Uruguay to Spain, the land of Catalans having claim their independence. The images of a blind dancer’s moves shot in infrared camera intuitively tell us that the dancer cannot see, and at the same time was a very careful way of expression chosen by the artist to opt for darkness, as she could not express someone’s disability under a bright light.  However, in Sojung Jun’s screen, we feel the gaze of sensation-driven people who indulge in the movements of dancers, who activate their senses of balance to the maximum and feel around the void in the dark. This is similar to the sensation of skateboarders taking the risk of groping around the ground even if no one really forces them to do so. The movements groping around the uneven and rugged space entail a risk of sudden fall and deprivation, making the audience to have butterflies in their stomach, but their spatial indulgence becomes the visual indulgence of Sojung Jun.

Eventually, Sojung Jun has translated all of these experimental, linguistic, historic, political and social records in an order based on senses. By the end of the exhibition, it is revealed that the title “Kiss me Quick” was a cocktail menu in the 『Le Paysan de Paris』written by Louis Aragon, and the letter types which seemed to have been wrongly cut from an analog printing materials were in fact from the menu. The title was translated into a taste by a chef, and the taste was translated again into a critic’s language. The text describing the experience of walking around blindfolded was translated into music of a composer, space of a scenographerand video of a cinematographer. And we witness the amazing rise of our senses in a feast of all these sounds, lights, colors, tastes, movements and languages. The moment we give up on the dogmatism of a single sensation or limit such sensation, all the other senses once oppressed come alive, and these awakened senses do not stop at just passively embracing external stimuli. These once banned senses invite in the stories of someone’s loss, constraints, disruption, and fall. We listen to the stories that start from the pressure spot of our skin, cochlea inside our ear, and the tip of our tongue. The reason why Sojung Jun cannot stop her indulgence in senses and why we cannot help but continue to follow on her indulgence is becausetheir stories continue to go on.

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[junsojung-text]

Art, the Moment when Life Shines

Kim Yunkyoung, Independent Curator

(A rumble: it is / truth itself / come among / people, / right into the midst of the / metaphorsquall.

-Paul Celan)

I still remember the moment I saw Jun Sojung’s video work The Old Man and the Sea (2009) for the first time at an exhibition in Incheon several years ago. This simple video work of an elderly man leisurely enjoying fishing on the seashore, humble and uncomplicated in technique, captured my gaze and left a strong impression in me more so because it didn’t rely on either an immense scale or a dramatic narrative.

The resonance of her work was so tranquil yet powerful that it wasn’t easy for me to approach the essence behind such reverberation  even after some considerable amount of time had passed, and in the meantime, Jun had produced another riddle-like exhibition. Along with the story about the old man in the North European seashore reeling up herrings from the beautiful choppy waves sparkling in the dazzling sunshine, Jun’s videos told the stories about a mask-changing artist showing a performance at a shabby festival event in the outskirts of some city, and women who have been making Kimchi at a Kimchi factory for a long time. Jun also traced after Elis, a dancer of the Finnish woods who danced alone until the end of his life. Then abruptly, the exhibition took a different turn on the second floor where Jun transformed the entire space of the second floor into a museum that displays an old man’s collections of old objects. This exhibition, consisting of video works which tell the stories of the people the artist has met and installation works that carefully display objects that must be valuable to someone, ultimately seemed to be a rather rough spread of different forms of life in layers. And this seemed to be because the aspects of certain changes that worked the artist’s heart every time she faced a certain moment in life, appear to be left intact on the surface of the works. My aspirations to gauge the ambiguous emotions of my old memories — mixed with an old man, the ocean, the sky, the clouds, the herrings and the seagulls — which I faced in the exhibition by relying on its title ‘As You Like It’ were ultimately and repeatedly blocked by the keyword ‘fascinated’ which the artist added like a code, and the change of ‘her’ heart she demonstrated.

Work in vain, endless step in vain 

Endless march in place, reaching nowhere.

- From A Day of a Tailor (2012)

The attempt to read the path of Jun’s oeuvre, embarked with the exhibition As You Like It, naturally led me to refer to her previous works, and certain points of relativity discovered in her works before and after the exhibition empowered my conviction. For example, the dancer in the Finnish woods in Three Ways to Elis (2010) also appears as a main character of a chance encounter that triggers conversations in The Finale of a Story (2008), which is Jun’s early work that strangely but beautifully weaves the stories of memory, imagination, reality and dreams in a theatrical setting. Jun also integrates just the right amount of video, sound and installation to tell the story in works like Three Ways to Elis and Speech on Collection (2010). This is reflective of the artist’s persistent attempts to coincidentally bring in the various mediums like video, photography, drawing and sculptural installations as a theatrical mechanism in her works such as Story of Dream: Suni (2008), a dramatization of the memories of miners and nurses dispatched to Germany through Suni whom the artist met at a dance hall in Berlin, and One Man Theater (2009) which recorded someone telling his or her  stories on a stage prepared for just one person. Having majored in Sculpture in undergraduate studies and Video in graduate school, Jun has applied her experiences and expertise in the two genres to collapse the boundaries between them, and told about the world that surrounds her as well as the people she met there.  Her endeavors, beginning with The Old Man and the Sea, turn to a rather concise method of screening single channel videos such as in The King of Mask (2010) and Something Red (2010), and then a series of video works that follow give Jun the title ‘Daily Experts’.

Putting each of the figures in the works, the nature of narratives, or the way of realizing the narratives in order individually and then referring to one another, something in common is disclosed, which has consistently continued from the beginning in Jun’s works that don’t seem to be related to each other.  The commonality is that Jun has a very unique outlook which can translate the most banal and ordinary moments of everyday life, available at any given moment and place, into the most extraordinary moment. This creates meaningful moments not only in the process of showing the different lives of different people such as in Speech on Collection or Three Ways to Elis after her first exhibition,  but also in the single-channel video works which officially began to be shown in the exhibition As You Like It. In her early works, the focus lied on the individual narratives and the various elements — objects installations — of physical and psychological stage  to tell such narratives.  The elements gradually permeated into the video, and reconfigured into a solid structure that props up the framework of the narrative. Even in the process of transforming the external forms of the work and the ways of weaving the narrative, Jun’s gaze still remains fixed on the nooks and crannies of life. And such gaze, by infiltrating deeper into the individual life, reveals the voices hidden deeply inside in the personal life, layer by layer, and opens up towards one big world.

If fish doesn’t come around, you have to wait hours for them.

It’s actually an anxious and nervous job.

-From The Old Man and the Sea

As can be seen, the works of different textures attempted in the exhibition As You Like It reconstructed the starting moments of very important changes in Jun’s way of intervening in the story, and in her work as a whole. The traces of the artist which remain in active and enthusiastic elements — such as the meticulously staged situations — scattered throughout the process of leading the story gradually disappear as the narrative starts to be composed and delivered through single-channel videos, and are eventually reduced into a ‘gaze’ on someone telling his or her story. Such changes became possible when Jun chose to reject others into her time and space — whether it’s a physical or psychological stage — and began to immerse herself into the time and space of another. Jun, having entered the time and space of the daily life of people living ordinary lives, gazes at them and waits for them to tell their narratives rather than making efforts of her own. And then, after a long period of waiting, they start to tell their stories, in the very ground of their lives. The long period of waiting brings about an exchange of emotions, and allows for absorption into the life of the one telling the story. The long period of waiting also brings out the forgotten moments, and revives memories deeply concealed within. As such, Jun refrains from making interventions in order to focus on the voice of the other, and makes herself clearly manifest by actually removing herself.

Despite so, however, it’s near impossible to recognize these changes at once through a silent gaze. Perhaps this is exactly the reason why Jun, at this point of an important change, makes quite an unfamiliar attempt which doesn’t easily correlate to any of her previous works. This attempt can be seen in the exhibition The Habit of Art, which consisted  of the eponymous video work composed of seven episodes, and the photographic works related to the video. Here, Jun clears her throat and begins telling her own story, unlike her previous works in which she immerses herself into the lives of others and follows their particular narratives. In the work, a flame spark revived from ashes becomes  a blazing shape of a bird, water is brought up to fill a broken jar all through the night, a glass ball is rolled on the palm of the hand to mesmerize the viewer, matchsticks are carefully piled up in a tower only to collapse and to be rebuilt again and again, labor is wasted in trying to scoop out a full moon reflected on the water surface, a figure jumps through a ring in fire, and a figure walks back and forth a long narrow beam with a glass jar filled to the rim with water. These episodes are repeated infinitely in a serene manner in the video.  Jun surprisingly appears in this video composed in a concise manner, endowing upon herself the role of performing these premeditated actions, and boldly undertakes the challenge.

The success of life is not up to the opportunity and wisdom, 

but depends on the tenacity and determination.

- From Sun and Star: Record of the Works (2012)

The presence of the artist which emerges at the very façade of her work for the first —  and probably the last –—  time is a manifestation of a certain conviction raised by the gaze that observed and pursued the ordinary life of others from behind the camera with affection. In the video work The Habit of Art (2012), Jun puts together the seven different episodes that seem to be related to the virtues that are expected from an artist — or perhaps which Jun endows upon herself, and performs them one by one. There are episodes in which the artist reaches success after just a few tries, but there are also other episodes where she isn’t able to fulfill her mission until then end, falls in despair, and eventually has no choice but to receive help from others.  However, the element of success in such duties is actually not an important factor. What’s important is that Jun repeated these actions without stopping. Jun calls these endlessly repeated actions ‘habit’, and connects them to the artist’s virtues, or with ‘doing art’. Jun clearly projects her own complex inner world that faces with art upon the infinitely repeated process of actions which are both reckless and simple, passionate but balanced, sometimes magically captivating but trivial and ordinary. It isn’t in some daunting moment of confronting a certain subject as a flashy and powerful fetish.  Rather, through a process of repeating actions that seem trivial and insignificant, and in the process of such difficult gestures, Jun captures a moment in which long held questions and skepticism of art is metastasized into a certain conviction.

This magical moment that sparks within Jun offers the experience of a clear moment of consciousness to those who have carried on a long journey of an ambivalent resonance which for a long time seemed both within and beyond reach. They start to contemplate why Jun’s work, lacking a particular technique, a grandiose scale or a dramatic narrative, is so powerfully gaze-capturing and leaves a strong impression on the mind. The unfamiliar artist in the video, her somewhat awkward and incomplete movements, and the sincerity that repeats trivial actions in complete seriousness, create moments of magic within us, as we observe the unyielding, never-ending actions of the artist.  The artist’s performative action which repeats seemingly forever, transposed her deep and vague ideas on art and art-doing into certain convictions. In the same way, we, looking at the artist’s actions, participate indirectly but actively in the artist’s actions by reviving certain moments that were hidden or concealed in each one of our perfectly ordinary lives. Like a magical spell, the trivial and meaningless actions repeated by the artist function as a subconscious mechanism which allows us to bring each moment into life as we live our own lives. And just when the certain magical moments shine in our own life is when we come to face an extraordinary time-space of ‘art’ in the ordinary continuation of life.

A rumble: it is truth itself come among people, right into the midst of the metaphorsquall.

-Paul Celan

The deep resonance I felt when I saw Jun’s work seven years ago was probably due to the sense of unfamiliarity one feels when surprisingly encountering ordinary life. And as mesmerized I was with her work, Jun, observing those who share a part of the world in which she lives every moment of their lives in silence, was probably unknowingly captured by how ordinary life is. Therefore, during the time when I found it difficult to approach such powerful resonance, Jun must have been making different attempts to grasp onto something that reaches beyond the reach, adjusting the speed of her breathing and pace, until eventually she physically experiences and endlessly repeats the performance of emotional fragments she draws out from the moments of ordinary life. Perhaps this is why, but Jun’s path since then takes on a clearer trajectory. Through such attempts she makes by adamantly complying to the moments of life that seem to promise unconditional ordinariness from the past to the future, Jun creates a rather slack category of works referred to as the ‘Daily Experts’. And the series of videos in this category unfolds before us the aspects of art that have existed in multiple layers within the artist herself, and the different appearances of the ways in which the virtues of the artist manifest themselves in the outside world in the most diverse and varying voices.

Once again, I conjure up the image of the old man by the sea in Northern Europe. I wonder if he is still leisurely reeling up herrings at that seashore today like he did then. Indeed, the encounter with the old man was the very beginning of my encounters with the world that surrounds me, and with those who share that world. The series of such encounters created a fissure in the world that firmly constructed  around me. Jun probably also continued with such encounters, a step ahead of me. At times like poetry, while at other times like a novel, Jun caught the fleeting fragments of life that rage in the fissures through her own gaze, silently perpetuating the aspects of the daily life in which the egos of each individual and the worlds that surround them continue to clash and contradict in their own different space and time.  And Jun’s life, repeating such process, reflects Jun’s own art itself in exactitude. Art echoes life and life echoes art. And only just now, realizing that I am also standing in the heart of life that repeats itself ceaselessly, I carefully conclude with my hypothesis that perhaps, this is the truth that lies behind the powerful resonance of Jun’s art.

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[junsojung-text]

Media and the Order of Senses

Nam See Kim (Assistant Professor, Ewha Womans University)

The Premise of Media

Entering Sojung Jun’s solo exhibition titled Kiss Me Quick at Song Eun Art Space, visitors could feel Barcelona. In this exhibition, there is sensorial memory of the city experienced by Jun with her eyes closed. She walked around the city and recorded what she felt with her sensorial organs except for her eyes. This way, she made her sensory drawings of Barcelona. And then, a musician translated the drawings into music and a choreographer transcribed them into physical movements. Going through the process, her sense of touch and hearing is combined with the sense of sight, which is united with tactile sight of moving bodies. At a glance, it seems that Jun tries an experiment to overcome the limits of our eye-centered culture. In other words, her work seems like a project to call into question widespread ocular-centrism by demonstrating how it has minimized our interest in other senses. This work seems to divert our focus onto diverse physiological capacities of our body. Historically, art has involved in this kind of attempt to resuscitate five senses. Friedrich Schiller analyzed negative effects of the division of labor him and viewed ‘art as play’ as a solution for dealing with the fragmentation and alienation of modern man in ‘civil society’. After Schiller, art was considered to be able to help us recover our fragmented or enfeebled senses and impair our physical and mental integrity. Even today, not a few artists pursue the aim to restore the so-called ‘original state of united senses’. Moreover, it is not uncommon for these artists to move towards spiritualism and mysticism.

           Despite certain visual similarities, Jun’s work is distinctly different from the abovementioned artistic lineage. First, Jun’s work is based on media technologies such as video projection. As media theorist Friedrich Kittler points out, technology based media such as photography, gramophone, film, and typewriter divided up once united senses and assigned each a medium-like status. For example, ocular and auditory experience (sight and hearing), which had been united in the creation and reception of a literary work, came to be recorded, saved, and ‘played’ separately in gramophone, photography and film. Through photography and silent movie that send out a set of visual impressions with no sound, and gramophone playing only the sounds of people of events with no image, we got used to image-only and sound-only experience. Our sight and hearing are not working separately in reality, but when it comes to media technology experience, each of the senses can operate independently.

           It is noteworthy that after technology media brought about the division of senses, the mutual translation and correspondence between individual senses came to be explored. For instance, Wassily Kandinsky explored the possibility of communication and translation between sounds (auditory senses) and colors (sight) in his painting. Laszlo Moholy-Nagy, who was interested in materialism, suggested a new kind of music based on direct correspondence between the auditory and the visual by inscribing graphic symbols on phonograph record disks.[1]Therefore, it was not by chance that such artistic experiments were created after the appearance of technology-based media like photography, films, and gramophone.

           Nevertheless, people calling for the reunification of fragmented and separated senses still stick to the romantic idea of a primitive status of human spirit when all senses were together in unity. For them, the unity of senses is to be ‘recovered’ and ‘rebuilt’. They try to restore the primitive sensorial status in human bodies through diverse spiritualistic and mystical methods. However, their ideas and methods cause head-on confrontation between humans and technology, as they do not understand the dialectical relationship between the two. After the technology based media split up our senses, the reunion between them cannot take place in the manner that romanticists and metaphysicians dream of. This is because after the appearance of technological media, the problem of sensorial integration or synesthesia cannot rely on the concept of ‘spirit’ that is believed to unite the senses of body in the ‘transcendental’ inside. The integration would rather be possible by utilizing the technical media, provoking ‘translation’ or ‘combination’ between different them. The future technology of virtual reality that is to mediate sight between hearing; and touch between smell, does not represent a certain primitive status of human senses. It is nothing but the combined technology of different media senses.        

           Jun does not refer to things like ‘spirit’ or ‘humans’ when she talks about ‘synesthesia’. Maybe she is fully aware that her work is based on the premise of the technical separation of senses. Instead, Jun sheds light on the ‘translation’ occurring between senses. Moreover, she finds common ground among senses not in human spirit but in the manipulation of media. The interesting aesthetic tension in her work comes from this point of view. In Kiss me quick, Jun tries to weaken visitors’ visual perceptual abilities by turning the lights down in the entire exhibition hall. She also installs structural devices to make the visitors bend their back or lower their bodies. As a result, visitors are forced to experience her works using their bodies and senses. They should walk cautiously down a dark hallway, attempt to reconstruct distorted and fragmented images projected on the wall, and watch a video standing uncomfortably in front of a curved screen. Here, the convention of watching comfortably a visual image centered exhibition does not exist. In her media work, Jun relocates diverse sensorial information manipulating and combining different media,[2]and unites multiple senses in her own way. In other words, she brings about a uniquely united sensorial experience by adeptly arranging diverse (technological) media and isolated sensorial information they convey. Critic Sohyun Ahn says Jun’s method is “indulged in senses.”[3]However, despite the nuance of the word, the indulgence is not intended for an aesthetic self-fulfillment. Through the indulgence of senses, Jun’s works telling us “stories of someone’s loss, limitations, isolation, and fall” try to “translate empirical, linguistic, historical, political, and social date into the order of senses.”[4]Likewise,Story of Dream: Suni(2008) (stories of nurses and coal miners emigrated to Germanyin the 1960s) and Specters (2017) (a work about immigration and boundary issues, and identity problem in the global age) in her exhibition at SeMA Buk Seoul Museum of Art, The Song of My Generation, can be viewed stories translated into ‘the order of senses’.

Specters in the Global Era  

Google Map, in this world of images on which one could reach anywhere in the whole world by moving a cursor on the monitor, moving ‘my location’ to somewhere else is possible with a simple click of a mouse. Within a few seconds, the cursor will get to the place on earth where one wants to be. A small pixel clinging to the cursor is a symbol of the virtual ‘I’. The ‘I’ can easily land on anywhere on the map: once ‘I’ do, landscape surrounding the specific location –for instance, the Gulliver Park in Spain- suddenly appears in front of one’s eyes. In that place, we are as free as specters. Due to the worldwide economic crisis in the global age and civil wars breaking out all over the world, immigration is increasing dramatically. According to the UN Refugee Agency, at the end of 2016, the number of global involuntary refugees, 65,600,000, increased by 300,000 compared with the previous year.[5]Between 2008 and 2016, moreover, people applying for refugee status to Korean government increased over twenty times from 364 to 7542.[6]However, the migration of people in the real world is not as easy as moving across the globe on the Google Map to get to a park in Spain. In reality, between ‘my location’ and another place, there are strict border guards and administrative powers protecting their laws and deciding where to offer an entry permit to a refugee or deny his or her entry, or order him or her to leave. Blocked by the powers, hundreds of people trying to move to another place lose their lives in the Mediterranean Sea.

        When I try to move place in the imaginary world, my body and words do not function. Even if I come very close to some kids playing in a playing ground, I am invisible to them. They even cannot hear me. However, when it comes to the real world, the story is entirely different. Even though I do not say anything, my appearance and my body deliver information about who I am. Because of my looks, I might be identified as Chinese or Japanese, or Vietnamese. Even when I do not speak a word, a taxi driver would recognize me as an Asian. In case I speak their language, for example, English or French, he or she can ‘see’ something else between my lines.This is because my accent and pronunciation will inform that I am ‘the other’ who do not originally belong to this culture and language, that I am either a foreigner or an immigrant. Regardless of my will, thus, my body, my language, and my accent bear a set of meanings. The meanings decide the area of my mental and social activities, and leave a trace in my existence. Someone might frown at my accent, and someone could feel comfortable about my appearance.The complex interaction created between my looks and my words (or accents) feels powerful.

Time Axis Manipulation

Spectersis the title of Jun’s work where she speaks about the ironic situation in the global era with her signature attitude of indifference. Specters appear both in the past and present. Even if ghosts came from the past, we cannot say that they belong entirely to the past. If something of the past appears in the present, the past is not considered to be completely over. But that doesn’t mean specters exist in the present. If they do, they might not be called specters. Ghosts do not ‘exist’ in the present, but ‘appear (and disappear)’ in the present. The condition of their appearance is different from that of ‘things’ such as coffee cups and plates that we could always see in a kitchen. In this regard, for ghosts, time is a paradoxical thing. They are from the past but appear in the present: they belong to the past but are connected to the present.

           Moving images are like specters as every movement we see in them was produced in the past. In front of our eyes, screenings of moving images repeat a set of movements made in the past. Like ghosts, in Jun’s work, the movements of a choreographer appear in front of us, but they are not ‘present’ hear and now just like an object next to us. In a way, we play with them in the present; yet, in reality, they do not exist. For us looking at the screen, the movements being developed in front of our eyes belong to the past. Therefore, we watch the movements developing: movements that have already passed, disappeared, and cannot be repeated in reality.However, this is not the only similarity between the medium of moving images and specters. Moving images can repeat things that have already happened while ghosts can freely cross the temporal boundary between the past and present. We can play moving images ‘counterclockwise’. To be more specific, we can return time to the point before things happened, as it is described in the following sentence:

“Grandmother’s inn was being rebuilt. As if someone were clicking on the rewind button using the Final Cut Pro program, I was able to see with my eyes the succession of short scenes showing the bricks in the dilapidated building returned to their original place, one by one.”

The scenes showing the reconstruction of grandmother’s inn do not describe a memory of the past. Memory can let us jump into a moment of the past or replay a moment in time suddenly, sporadically, randomly, and rapidly. Nevertheless, no matter what, we cannot play our memory of the past backwards. That means our reflection on the past follows the linear flow of time. Therefore, the images played backwards are not to do with how our memory operates. The reversal of time can be realized only through the technical manipulation of the progress of moving images. Kittler calls this process ‘Time Axis Manipulation’ and sees it as one of the most important capabilities of the technical media. Jun makes the most of this media technology that helps her counter the irreversible flow of time where every living organism and thing on earth belong. Thus, in her work, the pieces from a collapsed building return to their proper places, a squashed up coin regains its original shape, and a wall we passed by riding on a train comes back before our eyes. But sadly, through all these things, one cannot but sense the irreversibility of time much more vividly than before.

[1]L. Moholy-Nagy, “Neue Gestaltung in Musik. Möglichkeit des Grammophons”, Der Sturm, Juli 1923 [2]See Nam See Kim, “New Familiarity, Old Unfamiliarity: Sojung Jun’s Media Work”, Video Portrait, Total Museum [3]See Sohyun Ahn, Sojun Jun’s“Kiss me Quick” Limitation-Rise-Indulgence of Senses [4]See Sohyun Ahn, Sojun Jun’s“Kiss me Quick” Limitation-Rise-Indulgence of Sense [5]http://www.unhcr.org/global-trends-2016-media.html [6]http://www.index.go.kr/potal/main/EachDtlPageDetail.do?idx_cd=2820

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[junsojung-text]

No Person in the Midst

Hae Jin Pahng, Critic

0.

Some propositions seem clear. For example, who would ever deny that Sojung Jun’s Daily Expertsseries depicts people working in specific fields? Even so, it is still valid to question whether there exist peoplein the Series. Sometimes, overly clear propositions blur our sight and we cannot see the object properly. This universal advice could also apply in this case. To be more precise, such questioning is required to focus on the ‘unusual’ method of the artist treating the ‘people’ of ‘daily experts.’

1.

With regard to the status of the ‘person,’ the first issue is about the expression, ‘specialist.’ The Series generally portrays people with high skills in their own professional fields, but in fact, it does not focus on revealing each person’s expertise. This is not due to indifference or lack of skill, but the discreet intention of guiding us to overlook their expertise. What moves us in The Old Man and the Sea(2009) is not the old man’s surprising skill of catching herrings or his achievement as a fisherman. It is the universal insight which he had obtained through his work, that is, something like wisdom earned through life experiences, not professional knowledge. For example, “To catch a fish, you have to think like a fish. Holding the fishing pole, I imagine the sea at the end of the fishing line. Even if I cannot catch them, just thinking of how big fish are swimming inside the bottomless sea is joyous. Many people ask me how to catch a fish. It’s all about technique, time and belief.”And the next scene. A duck leisurely swimming in the sea. The ‘expertise’ of the fisherman earned through long, hard work would not even come close to the innate nature of the duck.  

If so, a ‘daily expert’ would be somebody who has obtained excellent insight on life’s general issues through hisor her work and labor, rather than a skilled professional of a certain vocational field. To differentiate the former from the latter, the Daily Expertsseries tries to reach the greater world or a certain ground of truth which this world implies, transcending each person. The synesthetic experience of The Twelve Rooms(2014) is rendered by the sound of tuning a piano for the exact notes, which later turns into a blissful color tone. This is not about what this skilled piano tuner had achieved, but a possible ephemeral manifestation of a certain cosmic order a ‘daily expert’ could reach.  

2.

The people of the Daily Expertsseries are not observed for their excellent abilities and they are not set forward as distinctive figures with unique views of each profession. The person is a stereotype of a professional, but it is due to this very universality that heor she becomes extraordinary. This is perhaps what confuses us to understand Daily Expertsproperly.

The confusion is ambivalent(if there is any confusion). On the one hand, there could be a complacent viewpoint of looking at the Series as some sort of human documentary film like ‘Human Drama,’ and to the contrary, there also could be questioning of whether the person is alienated from the work since we cannot easily make out the person who seems to be hidden behind the specific occupation and skill. It does not seem worthwhile commenting on the former viewpoint but we need to discuss the latter. It is true that the Daily Expertsseries maintains a certain callous distance with the person in a discreet manner. Due to this distance, the figure is diminished (not by chance, but intentionally or boldly) in the structure.

We sometimes witness how the ‘expertise’ of the ‘daily expert’ becomes the object of doubt, and even how remorseful emotion overwhelms the person. In many cases, it is depicted as the culling process of a certain job due to the change of times. In the examples such as the tightrope walker of Last Pleasure(2012), and the film-billboard painter of Time Regained(2012), validity is lost according to the era’s criteria regardless of the level of skill or value, in our real world. And this creates pathos. (Labeling it as ‘Human Drama’ type would be related to this aspect.) However, perhaps the aspect of ‘alienation’ is more important. The moment when the figure is not featured as the core of the work, but gets pushed aside from the range of object or thing. (This would decisively differentiate the Series from the ‘Human Drama’ type.)

3.

To consider the status of the ‘person’ of the Daily Expertsseries, let’s have a look at the credits at the end of the film. After The Old Man and the Seais ended, the fisherman’s name is not revealed on the list of credits. It only says ‘An old Finnish man.’ This indifferent and neutral naming is not quite different from ‘jogging man’ or ‘person inside the yacht1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,’ who barely appearson screen. It is about the equal amount of information as in ‘seagull1, 2’, ‘herring 1, 2. 3,’ and even‘moored boats’ or ‘building,’ and ‘rainstorm’ or ‘sunlight.’

This kind of credit naming is found only in The Old Man and the Sea, but it does imply Sojung Jun’s basic attitude of treating her ‘people’ throughout the Series. Then, why did Jun ‘de-focalize’ them or ‘multi-focalize’ while risking the doubt of not having properly cast light upon the figures or even having degraded them to the status of a simple object?

This would not be irrelevant to the summarization that the wisdom earned by these ‘daily experts’ consists of repeated waiting and enduring, of the modest attitude toward the world that exists beyond oneself, in the end.“Someday you will have to climb down the rope. Young performer, trust me and follow me. The isolation and weariness you feel on the rope will all disappear, walking on the rope. The deathly act has succeeded. Yippee!”So ends Last Pleasure. And A Day of a Tailor(2012) ends with“Beautiful work, indeed, beautiful steps. Beautiful march in place, reaching wherever. Steps that leads you wherever.” Coming back to The Old Man and the Sea, the last scene before the credits appear, is of a flapping herring waiting for its death after being fished and the focus on the fish is slowly pushed toward the outside of the screen and what is left is the empty floor. The last narration at this point is “You wait, believing in your luck.” By equating the ‘Finnish old man’ with other living beings and objects, they all wish for the same coincidence and they bear the same until they arrive at the footsteps of mother nature. This is the role the ‘and’ inserted in the title plays, between the old man and the sea.

3-1.

The tightrope suddenly rises and a mountain is shaped in an instant. The horizontal line transforms itself into a triangle and zigzags through the screen. In the image which is parted in two and three, the figure disappears into the empty sky and returns from nowhere again.

In this beautiful scene ofLast Pleasure, the tightrope walker tells us about his relation with the rope. “On the rope, eyes should be gone and ears should be shut, and thoughts should not remain on the ground. If not, the rope will notice immediately and scold me severely.” As the tightrope becomes almost alive while changing angles and shapes every second, the trace of the figure seems to disappear at any moment with nobody noticing. It is not the walker who controls the rope, but the rope which determines the movement and destiny of the walker. Once the walker learns to negate his own senses, he is then liberated from the rope.  

3-2.

A round black shining stone on full screen is rolling, making a rattling noise. It could be the sun lighting the sky and the inner world. It could be the darkness which gobbles up everything.  

The story of the stone collector in Warm Stone(2015) talks about the hardship of living away from home. This story is transposed to the stone which seems to tell the person ‘I know what you are going through.’ The stone also had been broken, hurt by the river and finally trimmed.  Collecting suiseki(viewing stone) is not simply about possessing an object or desiring a certain shape of a piece of nature. It is to reach the state of mind which allows viewing the stone as is. It is to carefully listen to the history a stone has lived through and witnessed for eternity. It is to discover a myth embraced or hidden by the stone. Hence, it is sometimes about going one’s way and leaving behind one’s attachment.

3-3.

The objects treated by ‘daily experts’ seem to come alive and this flow can be traced in Jun’s other works. InMy Fair Boy(2012) andAngel of Death(2015), the doll and the taxidermied animal are respectively emphasized from the aspect of their characteristics of thing-object. The narrator of Angel of Deathbegins by repeating ‘It’s dead.’ and then goes on explaining the process of the bird’s death and taxidermy. He clearly represents the mental state of the taxidermist. However, tenacious close-ups of a live bird turning into a dead bird, then it being taxidermied, gradually erases the person, and the numerous birds on the brink of death take up the person’s place. (Especially in this case, the bird’s corpse turning into a corpse, then a stuffed animal, that is, the transforming process from an object to a ‘person’ is expressed as a metaphor through the dancer’s wriggling movement in the flickering spasmodic light. The expressive factor of dance is consigned to a certain unfathomable power which enables the object to come alive, not the taxidermist. Similarly, the duet of drum and trumpet in The Poem of Fire(2015) is closely related to the combination of fire, air, and weather which transform simple clay into a bowl, not the mental state or skill of the pottery artisan.) Thus, finally the ending lines “Let’s fly. Fly. Let’s all fly away.” are not simply expressing the taxidermist’s hope; they eventually become the bird’s desire.  

The ‘Tree’ in My Fair Boyconveys its request to the person. “Please, make my feet lighter.” For example, this line was a chance to emphasize the person’s excellent skill of breathing vitality into a lifeless object. However, at the moment when the figure could be cast in the limelight, Sojung Jun creates a ‘dialogue’ between the figure and object(like a sort of ‘play’) and transforms the object to a ‘person/figure’ itself. Therefore, the status of the ‘person’ is challenged by the object. The ‘person’ is not limited to the figure as a ‘daily expert’ any longer. These moments are truly the ones when the Series Daily Expertsflashes the light of genius.

4.

As mentioned before, the Series displays unusual credits, and there is another clear fact found among the credits throughout the whole Series. That the person’s narration is of another person’s voice, not the person’s. It could have been a deliberate choice to substitute for the figures not familiar with vocalization, but the narrator’s voice itself is not of a ‘voice specialist’ who would have a polished vocalization. Also, it was not of an amateur actor who would let out unrefined voice and clumsy pronunciation, trying to feign the voice of the ‘daily expert.’ Good example of this would be of Angel of Death, where the taxidermist on the screen is a man, but the narrator who voices his mind is a woman.

The discrepancy of the body and voice of the person. This is not a sensational experiment conducted, for example, through the separation of the sound and image. Isolation of body and voice which transpierces the Daily Expertsseries could be coupled with the general flow shown in the whole Series in which the status of the ‘person’ is threatened.  

In Daily Experts,the body of the person is generally a body specialized in a specific vocational skill. This is probably the reason why there are often close-ups of the hand, as the culmination of skill and the representative of the human body. Perhaps, the people of Daily Experts are already threatened their status by their fragmented body. When their ‘expertise’ is consisted more of the contemplation obtained through the process of honing their skills, instead of the perfection of the skill itself, and when the contemplation lies upon the acceptance that the skill accomplished by the body can be utterly useless in the end, inevitable contradiction between the body and mind occurs. On the other hand, the voice of the person is not only separated from his/her body, but also transposes to that of the thing-object. Hence, the figure is continuously separated from oneself, through his/her body, and the voice. (From such aspect, the only exception among the Series, having the voice correspond to the actual voice of the person is The King of Mask(2010) and it is interesting that it depicts face-changing or Bian lian. The art of face-changing is not of creating a thing-object, but of denying one’s face-identity. Thus, in the case of the face-changing master who can only maintain oneself through segmentation, body and voice could be closely knitted to each other.)

4-1.

In The Poem of Fire, the master potter’s voice sometimes becomes the fire’s voice. While the potter’s body tramps the earth and shapes the pottery and immerses in his skill, his voice, as if to deny the power of the skill, says: “Everything’s among the contradiction of waiting for a coincidence.” The potter is not the only one talking. The kiln fire scolds the potter severely. “What worldly thoughts are you in, not guarding me?” The only way a piece of pottery may be completed, is when the master potter does not overly trust his technique, and reflects on the question launched by the fire and realizes its meaning at last. Without the fire’s approval of “It’s ready. Come on in,” the making of pottery is impossible. It is made possible when the ‘poem’ of fire is recited through the potter’s ‘voice.’

4-2.

Hence the silence. For the myth and poem of nature and object to be voiced through the person’s voice, silence is required. It is about not being overconfident in one’s skill and listening attentively to the nature’s logic. In The Twelve Rooms, the person’s voice is eliminated. We ‘read’ the tuner’s voice amid the silence through the subtitle, and ‘see’ the piano’s voice which the person is listening to. The synesthetic experience of sound bearing color and sound deriving from color is not the result of a tuner’s special talent or effort. It’s also not what only an outstanding ‘artist’ can achieve. It is a method in which a ‘daily expert’ perceives the principle of the world through the object he/she treats. That is, a spectrum of a certain ultimate order in which all our work and daily life are intimately linked to each other.  

4-3.

While questioning the phenomenon of separation between the daily expert’s body and voice, Something Red(2010) twists the angle of its question. In short, what happens when there are more than one ‘person’?  

Under the list titled ‘special thanks’ in the credits, there are only two listings; ‘factory’ and ‘voice.’ We could say that the narrator is presumed to be a worker at a kimchi factory and on the screen, we can also spot some factory workers. But it is impossible to distinguish a body that we could presume to be the narrator’s voice among them. The voice can be that of anyone among them, so it could be the voice of the ‘factory’ (as the credits mentioned), not even theirs. “New familiarity / Old unfamiliarity / My own legacy / That everyone has.” These contradictory adjectives used in the narration which opensSomething Redis in fact, the essential idea relevant all throughout the Series. Newness assumes oldness and the concept of I would presume some existence beyond myself. “Certain amount of salt and water and salt and certain amount of / Certain amount of time and certain amount of / The exact proportion of seasoning and the proportion of the exact / Certain amount of packaging and certain amount of.”The stuttering narration of the process of making kimchi is repeated omitting words here and there to complete the recipe of omission. Industrialized tradition is not a personal unique idea or creative action, but a mechanical process. But it is the group made of each person which has to fill up the blank of ‘certain amount’ and ‘exact proportion.’The awareness of such contradiction gives birth to the poem (quite different in quality from the ‘Poem of Fire’).

4-4.

In Treasure Island(2014)’s credits, the female divers do not receive any specificity, as well. As Something Rednoted ‘factory’ instead of a specific person, the credits name a ‘House of female diver in Saekdal, Jeju.’ Thus, the perspective of voice which was divided from the body goes over to another level. The voice which could be anybody’s in the aforementioned example now unequivocally becomes a voice claimed by nobody.

Voice of nobody. This voice which does not correspond to any of the people, is not an awkward narration speaking for a diver, but a ‘professional voice’ conveying songs and stories. It is of the ‘pansori singer,’ the pure voice in the sense that it is the voice as a voice. The story and song told by this voice as a voice, are of the cruel livelihood maintained solely by the women’s sacrifice and of illusion made to bear the harsh reality.  (“Oh, Mother of Land, tell me the story.”) Reality and fiction, history and fable, are interlinked inevitably. Therefore, the video Treasure Islanddoes not limit iself to the tone similar to that of documentary film. Toward the middle, it changes from the scene of the blue sea to a black-and-white drawing. Even from the introduction, it shows the countercurrent of the sea, spitting out the island while swallowing the old woman. This is to declare that the whole film is a fiction about facts, and also a documentary reaching the boundary of fiction.  

5.

From its appearance, the Daily Experts series looks like documentary films dealing with people working in specific fields. But ultimately, it is firmly rooted in facts (proven reality) while strongly heading toward fiction (unproven reality). And it captures the moment when such fiction reveals the truth. (This is how it was all the more pertinent for Sojung Jun to ask for critiques to critics and curators for a virtual artwork which did not exist as yet, for the project 《EUQITIRC》, when she was concluding her series Daily Experts.)

The figures summoned in this ‘documentary-drama’ were ‘people’ who showed how this world operates. Such role can be shared with the other anytime. They readily gave up on their role as ‘person’ so as to become the true member of the world which this ‘play’ tried to portray. As such, the Daily Expertsseries becomes a ‘poem,’ excavated by a documentary.  

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Exploring the minor territories of some “Daily Experts”: the “generous” images of Jun Sojung by Simon Daniellou, Rennes 2 University, France     The filmic portraits by Jun Sojung, conveniently gathered under the heading “Daily Experts”, appear as meetings with people at work. If the artist does not claim any particular “message”, her approach reflects an ethic primarily based on the importance of not disturbing the activities of these individuals, whether they are craftsmen, artists or workers, when undertaking to film them. The main aesthetic result is the attention to the protagonists’ gestures and thus to their hands rather than their faces, the latter being only seen by chance, during a movement involving the whole body and making it enter occasionally in the frame. Therefore, the video artist asserts no posture, no preconceived system likely to stiffen this series that appears to be guided fortuitously, through a creative approach on the lookout for new people, new contexts, and new territories. It is striking that the haenyeo female divers from Jeju (Treasure Island, 2014), the sign painter from Gwangju (Time Regained, 2012) or the puppets’ sculptor from Taipei (My Fair Boy, 2012) are emerging as “Leibnizian monads”, subjective units as they express the totality of the world and, expressing this totality, they clearly express a small part of the world, that is to say their “territory”, to use the terminology of Gilles Deleuze. For Jun Sojung, meeting someone consists in venturing into the territories of those she portraitures, whether the territory is a seaside, a workshop, or even a simple accessory like the Jultagi acrobat’s hanging rope in Last in Pleasure (2012). Moreover, this attention to “workers’ gestures”, or rather of these individuals “at work”, is particularly reflected in the use of close-ups on their hands that a shallow depth of field usually detaches from the handled material (fabric, paint, wood, stuffed birds’ feathers, chilly powder and cabbage leaves, etc.), even if that image remains “out of focus” for a moment. Significantly, Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari use precisely the example of the human hand to describe the process of “deterritoralization” that they develop from their joint work, A Thousand Plateaus[1]:    “We already know the importance in animals of those activities that consist in forming territories, in abandoning or leaving them, and even in re-creating territory on something of a different nature [...]. All the more so for the hominid: from its act of birth, it deterritorializes its front paw, wrests it from the earth to turn it into a hand, and reterritorializes it on branches and tools. A stick is, in turn, a deterritorialized branch[2].”    Thus, the deterritorialization of the craftsman’s hand transforms it into a tool carrier engaged in a process of work, an "arrangement", to use another term dear to Deleuze and Guattari. Then follows a reterritorialization in an individual territory linked to an activity or a specialty, a territory that Jun Sojung explores with her camera, in a double movement of deterritorialization / reterritorialization from her own artistic territory. For this reason, the artist's approach is clearly political, not because she focuses on some "humble occupations" often in danger of being forgotten – an attitude that a hasty analysis could describe as nostalgic or reactionary – but because she contradicts the unique movement of deterritorialization imposed by capitalism with the sole objective of generating flows of men, materials and money. Unlike the act of creation, capitalism does not deterritorialize in order to reterritorialize elsewhere, according to the essential movement of the renewal of life, but to better maintain the incessant traffic of these flows. In a capitalist society, the flow is no longer a process consisting in reterritorializing an object which was deterritorialized beforehand, it incessantly replaces the territorialized object by another of the same value, making it enter the generalized market economy. On the contrary, as an artist, Jun Sojung chooses to leave her comfort zone in order to meet the Other, following this process of deterritorialization that challenges the contemporary structures of power and domination.       And this is the reason why her works end up constituting a series. If the monads that we discover in her videos – these individuals entirely dedicated to their task during the portraits that propose to apprehend them –, express the world in their own ways, from their own territories, Jun Sojung’s staging weaves rhizomic links between them, especially with tracking shots and pans that run through their respective territories. Tracking shots on the materials handled – fashion designer’s colorful yarn packages in A Day of a Tailor (2012), Chinese printer’s thousands of movable metal letters in Sun and Star: Record of the Words (2012), the cabbage leaves embedded in the red chilly pepper paste in Something Red (2010) – are “lines of the universe[3]” which go from man to thing, from thing to man, or from one man to another, and finally make a world of their own. From his territory, the artisan expresses himself outwards, he creates “destined for someone”, in a movement that Jun’s camera follows while approaching her subject, she is caught in its radiation, as if being carried away on the same tracks.        But these routes also pass through underground paths, below the image, by following the voices of the interviewees that the artist reproduces through voice-over systematically engaged in the creative gesture. These inner voices dig the images and fill them with intimate and poetic thoughts, claiming a subjective world that resonates with others, until making the sounds of a complaint, as an elegy ascending from the depths of the earth. But the words are not taken as direct testimony or oral memory. Indeed, Jun Sojung uses the words collected from the individuals portrayed as a raw material that is “interpreted” by others afterwards. Thus she proposes to create for a minority, that is to say, to speak “for” this minority, not in the sense of “toward them” or “intended for them” but, as proposed again by Deleuze, “in their place[4]”: in their name. We must specify that in the time of globalized capitalism of beings and affects, to consider a minority is not a question of quantity, but a comparison with the consumption and communication standard, namely the male, white, heterosexual paradigm. Practicing during the twenty-first century some “humble occupations”, some activities now almost extinct, and thus imposing a singular rhythm of work, these minority individuals resist within their restricted and respective territories. But by creating for them and by showing their multiplicity, as a group of individuals, Jun Sojung proposes an act of resistance.    For Deleuze, a work of art conceived as an act of resistance evokes “a people that does not yet exist[5]”. Seeking to define a modern political cinema, the philosopher borrows the expression "people who are missing" from the painter Paul Klee[6] and declares:    “This acknowledgement of a people who are missing is not a renunciation of political cinema, but, on the contrary the new basis on which it is founded, in the third world and for minorities. Art, and especially cinematographic art, must take part in this task: not that of addressing a people, which is presupposed already there, but of contributing to the invention of a people. […] the missing people are a becoming, they invent themselves, in shanty towns and camps, or in ghettos, in new conditions of struggle to which a necessarily political art must contribute[7].” This is particularly in the works of Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet, “a cinema of the topographic trace, where the story of losers and outcasts is exposed[8]”, that Deleuze identifies this resistance. Again, the voice detaches itself from the visual image, becoming this act of speech that “rises into the air as the object passes under the earth[9].” Just as in the works of the famous couple of French filmmakers, the disjunction between image and sound in the portraits of Jun Sojung is provided by the refusal to grant any "informational" nature to the word, which is often the case in documentaries with which her works could be too quickly  associated. And, as Deleuze points out, “the work of art is not an instrument of communication. The work of art has nothing to do with communication. The work of art does not contain the least bit of information[10].” So, for Jun Sojung, meeting a craftsman, a shopkeeper, a laborer, is not a way to question but to observe their practice in order to understand the issue that these practices pose to the present times, that is to say the problem – in the first sense, of a philosophical matter – they pose to our contemporary society, a society where images, audio or visual, are only utilitarian, consumed and burned. The video artist situates indeed the stakes of her creation in the field delimited by Serge Daney in the 1980s, that of an opposition between the image and what the French film critic then called the "visual": “The "Visual" is the system of images mass-produced and dumped by the television networks[11].” Taking for example the treatment of the first Gulf War in 1991 by the mass-medias, a video war-game that remains in memory through infrared images of tracer bullets over Baghdad[12], Daney says: “The Visual (which is the essence of the TV) is the show that one side gives to itself, while the image (which was the future of cinema) is what is born of an encounter with the Other, even if he is the enemy[13].” Indeed, the military aggression of a territory abroad is accompanied today by erasing the other’s image as a minority, while in contrast, an audiovisual work as that of Jun Sojung enters a territory only by opening its own territory, in a movement of interpenetration, and greets in its audio and visual material those individuals within it. This gift is that of the cinematic image which, unlike the Visual, is not a currency, because a true picture is “generous[14]”, as Marcel, the amateur filmmaker in episode 3b of Six fois deux. Sur et sous la communication (Six Times Two. Over and under the media, 1976) by Jean-Luc Godard and Anne-Marie Miéville, said. Moreover, as Daney stated in his famous interview filmed in 1992 with Régis Debray, Journey of a “Cine-Son”, the visual assumes no gaze, because even the one who shows this Visual does not even look at it. Debray goes on to say that “the Visual is what is used to not look at the world[15].” On the contrary, to offer images is to have a “"vision", it is to have a point of view, it is the fact of showing, and it is the cinema[16].” Thus, as an artist who “makes images”, Jun Sojung offers a point of view –in the first sense: an optical point of view – on the world through the territories she encounters and thereupon develops a place for the spectator, or through her choice of images and their contents as well as their arrangement, she at least builds a space that can accommodate the viewer intellectually, that is to say a territory aesthetic, ethical and political at the same time that she invites to reinvest. 

[1]           Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus. Capitalism and Schizophrenia, trans. Brian Massumi, Minneapolis/London, University of Minnesota Press, 1987 [1980]. [2]           Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, What is philosophy?, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Graham Burchell, New York, Columbia University Press, coll. “European Perspectives”, 1994 [1991], p. 67, emphasized by the authors. [3]           Gilles Deleuze, “Figures, or the transformation of forms”, Cinéma 1. The Movement-image, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Barbara Habberjam, London, The Athlone Press, coll. “Film studies / Media studies / Philosophy”, 1986 [1983], p. 187.  [4]           Gilles Deleuze responding to Claire Parnet in “A for Animal”, L’Abécédaire de Gilles Deleuze, 1988 [1996], produced by Pierre-André Boutang and directed by Michel Pamart, dvd Éditions Montparnasse, 2004. [5]           Gilles Deleuze, “Qu’est-ce que l’acte de création ?” [What is the creative act?], lecture at the FEMIS school (1987) transcribed in Trafic, n° 27, autumn of 1998, p. 142. [6]           Ibid. [7]           Gilles Deleuze, Cinéma 2. The Time-image, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Robert Galeta, London, Athlone, coll. “Film studies / Media studies / Philosophy”, 1989 [1985], p. 217. [8]           Pierre Eugène, “L’Inconsolable”, Critikat.com, published online, February the 7th, 2012, http://www.critikat.com/actualite-cine/critique/l-inconsolable.html, last checked: March the 30th, 2015. [9]           Gilles Deleuze, “Qu’est-ce que l’acte de création ?” [What is the creative act?], art. cit., p. 142. [10]           Ibid. [11]           Serge Daney, Persévérance. Entretien avec Serge Toubiana, Paris, P.O.L., 1994, p. 39. [12]           For more development, see Paul Virilio, Guerre et Cinéma I : logistique de la perception, Paris, Cahiers du cinéma, coll. “Essais”, 1991. [13]           Serge Daney, « 6. Regarder (la guerre du Golfe). Du visuel au visage », La Maison cinéma et le monde 3 : les années Libé 2 (1986-1991), edition prepared by Patrice Rollet, with Jean-Claude Biette and Christophe Manon, Paris, P.O.L, coll. “Trafic”, 2012, p. 784, article first published in Libération, February the 4th, 1991. [14]           The exact content of his remarks is that the production of amateur films is a “generous work thanks to the image to be observed.” The title of this miniseries can also be translated Six Times Two. On and Below Communication. [15]           Serge Daney : Itinéraire d’un cinéfils [Journey to a “Cine-Son”], 1992, directed by Pierre-André Boutang and Dominique Rabourdin, dvd Éditions Montparnasse, 2004. [16]           Serge Daney, Persévérance. Entretien avec Serge Toubiana, op. cit., p. 39. ⬅︎

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A Flash of Epiphany: The Imagery Power of Sojung JUN’s Video Series Daily Experts

Amy CHENG

 Since 2010, South Korean artist Sojung JUN has devoted herself to creating a concatenation of single-channel videos titled Daily Experts.[1] So far, this series consists of over ten independent video artworks. Each video is about five to ten minutes in length and features a protagonist following a specific trade. Although the attributes of these protagonists’ occupations differ significantly, the artist’s techniques in filmmaking, along with the Zeitgeist and the particular context shared by these protagonists, enable the viewers to gain a macroscopic perspective beyond the limited horizons of a single work when they make a comprehensive survey of these videos.

The protagonists in JUN’s videos practice a variety of trades such as tailor, film-billboard painter, type founder, tightrope walker, woman worker in a Kimchi factory, piano tuner, woman diver, taxidermist, stone collector, and performer of “face-changing,” an ancient Chinese dramatic art originated in Sichuan province, China. Some of these trades are rather unique. However, the protagonists’ physical labor can be hardly defined as “arts”, and their productions may not be considered as “art-works.” Nevertheless, just like the artist’s description of “daily experts,” these quotidian figures surprisingly emit a flash of spirituality in their humdrum routines. In other words, we may feel a magical aura radiating from the banality of the figures in JUN’s videos. The viewers may easily find that the artist puts her perspective not so much on introducing any dying or unique occupations as on exploring the figures’ quotidian existence that oozes extraordinary and artistic charms. This approach clearly echoes the inner meaning of the Daily Experts series. The artist not only actively engages in the investigation and dialectics amidst banality/uniqueness and life/arts, but also visualizes the Zeitgeist and the “quality of human beings” embedded in these trades. On a more specific basis, JUN’s videos distinguish these protagonists from the faceless “workers” or the “experts” emerging from the division of labor in contemporary societies, thereby bringing these figures a human dimension.

Employing audio-visual narratives, JUN fixes her penetrating gaze on these figures and their occupations. As far as the artist is concerned, the seemingly objective documentaries are actually different journeys of philosophical reflections, upon which she offers not only her profound thoughts as an artist but also her subjective interpretation on each of the protagonists. These videos resemble “quasi-documentaries,” in which the poem-like texts and narrations are the results of the artist’s “re-writing” of the interview transcripts. By doing so, she has actively intervened in and responded to these figures, thereby demonstrating the “relationship between the times and individual lives” reflected in these figures’ quotidian existence. Besides, the “way of survival” and the meaning it carries have been manifested in the relationship between these “individual lives” and their “occupations.” The Daily Experts series seems to interpret and reflect on Walter Benjamin’s idea about the “age of mechanical reproduction in which art has lost its ‘aura’” from an alternative perspective. On a more specific basis, Benjamin focused on artworks that, in the age of mass production and reproduction, not only lost their unique authenticity but also got separated from the values of beliefs, traditions and rituals. Contrarily, JUN delves into the qualities of “handcraft” and “craftsman” in our humdrum existence, thereby rediscovering the dimensions of spirit, freedom, and imagination in addition to those of labor, time, and material.

I hereby select five of JUN’s tours de force and use five keywords to expound the ideas behind her Daily Experts series.

 1. Demarcation: Last Pleasure, 2012

Last Pleasure is the most symbolic work in this series. The artist not only filmed the traditional tightrope walker who represents a dying occupation in South Korea, but also conveyed the demarcations and challenges existing ubiquitously in our daily life. The protagonist in this video is a tightrope walker of remarkable skill. He has a traditional Korean costume on and walks the tightrope to the accompaniment of traditional music. The audience is thoroughly entertained by his performance. However, the protagonist’s three decades of experience in performance has already transformed such vaudeville art into the embodiment of his reflection and outlook on life. In this video, the first-person narrative of the protagonist’s frame of mind explicates how the spirit and the skill of performance beautifully merge together:

“The end of the rope should not feel too far. Nor should it feel too close and wide. The rope itself should disappear. And there should be a free world of its own, when stepped on a rope.” …“The worst thing to happen is the opening of eyes and ears. On the rope, eyes should be gone and ears should be shut. And thoughts should not remain on the ground. If not, the rope will notice immediately and scold me severely.”

Drawing by the reflective narrative, the viewers’ gaze rests thoughtfully on the rope that demarcates high/low, air/ground, forward/backward, and success/failure. The highly speculative narrative, along with the images edited by the artist, turns the scenes demarcated by the rope into the interface and the entry point for the viewers’ rumination. The artist is technically adept at blending narrative with images to make a pun on the mutual reference between the heartfelt wishes of the performer who walks the tightrope and the challenge for the tempo of his marching. The artist sensed the tension in the “rope” and “demarcation,” which placed her in deep contemplation. She stated in an interview that “Last Pleasure intends to signify the world of one’s own built on the rope—the superlative condition of an artist. A tightrope walker is one who maintains the tradition and at the same time belongs to the contemporary period. He rises up to the sky by performing perfect movements on the rope, but he is also nothing but a silly clown before the audience.”[2]

 2. Declaration: Time Regained, 2012

JUN’s exploration of the riotous profusion of “demarcations” in her life actually accommodates her reflective thinking on the borderline between life and art. It involves the following questions. How should we tackle the clash between ideals and realities in the contemporary society? How should we define success and failure? What is life? Can we count life as a form of art? Can we regard the tightrope walker as an artist, since he equates “performance” with his life? What is art exactly? These questions not only represent the artist’s examination on her own life and works, but also implicitly express her concerns over the marked cleavage between “life” and “art” in the contemporary society. Nonetheless, do we really have no difficulty distinguishing between what we term an “artist” and a professional worker, or the two characters actually reflect identical attitudes and issue a joint declaration about their harmonious co-existence?

The content of these videos is JUN’s reflections incarnate, which implies that the artist, by reference to these “daily experts,” reviews the tangible results caused by the fact that people’s ideas about “aesthetics” and “art” have become detached from life, labor, and practicality since the eighteenth century. The ultimate question here is perhaps “how art is related to the practice of life.” We lead our quotidian existence, from which our spiritual freedom is somewhere on the horizon.

Time Regained features the last film-billboard painter who works for Gwangju Cinema. This video responds to the aforementioned questions in a circuitous manner. The film-billboard painter devoted a lifetime to performing the mundane and repetitive task. Yet in his inner spirit, the occupation is not only the way to make a living but also the physical labor in which he finds delight and a sense of fulfillment. The results of his physical labor go public on the façade of the cinema, serving as the declaration of his existence in the mundane world.

We may regard Time Regained as the work with the greatest fidelity to the presentation way of “documentary” in this series. JUN did not invoke any metaphor in Time Regained. Instead, she presented the humdrum routines of the film-billboard painter in a plain and straightforward manner. In his small atelier where the jars of paint are piled and the air is filled with the scent of pigment, the painter goes round and round working according to the cinema’s running schedule. Notwithstanding, he needs to summon willpower or even greater passion to lead a life which is stuck in a rut. The tempo of the video is noticeably slow and steady, which resembles a film comprised of an uninterrupted shot of a person’s life. The painter was an undergraduate of an art university when the democratic movement in Gwangju reached its peak in the 1980s. At the time, he had the goals and aspirations towards participating in the social reform by creating large-scale paintings. The change of times is faithfully mirrored in the piece of history recounted by the protagonist. The trade of film-billboard painting will be eventually rendered obsolete in the course of time. Nevertheless, the viewers “witness” not only the whole life of a person but also the microcosm of the era of images.

 3. The form of thoughts: Sun and Star, 2012

JUN has explicated that her chance encounters with these figures finally resulted in her filming of them. Her experiences in this regard may be nothing different to ours, but she is an attentive observer who constantly focuses on these figures, which makes her videos fairly riveting. Although images serve as the primary media of the videos in this series, we may easily find that the artist tries to convey her ideas and thoughts in a nearly comprehensive way if we analyze these videos in terms of their tempo, language, color, sound, and editing. This may have something to do with her remarkable skills in manipulating different creative media such as image, literature, sound, and so forth. Similar to the idea of “synesthésie” promoted by early twentieth-century poet Charles P. Baudelaire, the artist applies the approaches of extracting, transforming, and integrating, thereby creating concise and pithy remarks that, in addition to images, have become the most outstanding component of her works.

Sun and Star was filmed by JUN in 2012 during her residency in Taiwan. The video recounts the story of Ri Xing Type Foundry, the last type foundry in Taiwan. She was deep in contemplation of the aesthetics of characters because of her particular fascination with literature and written words. The master in the type foundry succeeded his father as the owner. He spent a lifetime to immersing himself in the oceans of Chinese characters with a carefree spirit. He does not produce and use characters through thoughts. Rather, he tends to solidify abstract and invisible thoughts by “visualizing” them. In this video, the sound emitted from the typecasting machine is rhythmic and steady, which implies its resolute resistance against the change of times. Such kind of foundries is thin on the ground. Treating the meanings of characters and the association of shapes as the point of departure, the artist successfully identified an alternative creativity that the type founder demonstrates.

 4. The labyrinth of modernity: A Day of a Tailor, 2012

Technological advancement and industrial transformation led to the decline of typecasting and printing, and many trades were not spared the same predicament. The present modernity rests heavily upon the logic of linear progression that accelerates the replacement of obsolete things. Challenged by the system of mass production, the tailoring trade has become a marginalized, isolated “traditional occupation.” A Day of a Tailor and Sun and Star narrate stories of different trades, yet these trades share similar historical backgrounds. This video features a tailor who works in a small room. He witnesses the vicissitudes of times to the accompaniment of the rhythmic sound emitted from his sewing machine. Times change, industries decline, and the fate of being eliminated befall the people who follow these dying occupations. “No one embroiders their names anymore. Needless buttons remain like medals. Stuff that are only valuable to those who value them,” the tailor narrates to the accompaniment of the monotonous sound produced by his sewing machine.

In the course of the streaming, the viewers may identify that the tailor is sewing a labyrinthine pattern of tower. At first glance it seems to be an abstract shape with an in-built tortuous route. The very route symbolizes the career trajectory of the tailor. Perhaps, the tortuous journey into the unknown is exactly the labyrinth of modernity in which we get lost.

“Black threads form forests. Move mountains. Build buildings. Create oceans. And make it rain. Work in vain. Endless steps in vain. Endless march in place, reaching nowhere. Steps that leads nowhere.”

 5. The far shore: Treasure Island, 2014

The course of modernization has caught all of us in the intricate maze of times. People seem to have no way of preventing such dramatic change. Treasure Island features woman divers who also represent a dying occupation in South Korea. Notwithstanding all the hardships, these woman divers persist with their mission to the end of their lives.

The term “woman divers” refer to the women of unique skills in diving and catching pearl oysters. After the rise of pearl-oyster aquaculture, they turn to fishing for other marine wild-lives. “Woman diver” may be not only the most arduous work among the others covered in this series, but also a trade destined to fade into history. Most of the woman divers in East Asia are at their fifties and even seventies or eighties.

The associations and interpretations that JUN made in this video are more liberal and imaginative than those in the aforementioned works, which implies the artist’s effort to bring this series to a thought-provoking conclusion. She invoked the metaphor of women’s multiple social roles to interpret the inner meaning of “woman divers.” Besides, these woman divers set out on a new “journey” when every time they dive into the sea, if you will. Accordingly, this video is also a narrative about “setting out on a journey” and “return” The artist connected the image of the sea with the orientation amidst the drift of life and, meanwhile, the sea bears the sign of maternal love. She put the viewers’ mind to sea by weaving metaphorical narrative and demonstrating the woman divers’ intestinal fortitude and contagious singing. Treasure beyond our wildest dreams can be found everywhere in the sea, beneath which mortal dangers lurk. Employing a ballad about yearning for the “utopian island” (Ieodo), the artist plainly and straightforwardly pointed out the path that leads these woman divers to the “far shore.” The term “far shore” carries several inner meanings such as the dying of an occupation, the demise of lives, and returning to one’s native home.

“Whether you eat or starve ah. Deep underneath this sea here gold and silver can be found everywhere. But it is the fruit of a tree too tall. Shall I live on Ieodo. The path to death is right around the corner. My poor mother, the day she gave birth to me. She enters the water deep as can be floundering her way inside.” They sang in chorus.

Interpreting women by reference to their emotional ties with the sea, JUN follows her consistent creative style to interweave narratives. The woman divers in this video not only serve as the incarnation of great fortitude, but also manifest the spirit as truly inclusive as the sea. If we carefully observe the opening scene of this video, we will find that the waves hit the rocks with huge energy are streamed reversely. It seems to imply a specific frame of mind; to wit, returning to one’s native home. The marine wild-lives caught by these woman divers are the treasure from the unknown, just as the nutrients derived from “mother.” After all, these woman divers will again regale us with the myth about the “far shore” after they go ashore.

As mentioned at the beginning of this article, JUN’s videos can be admired as either a continuous series or independent artworks. They collectively lay out their strong yet non-linear correlations with one another by respectively displaying an independent piece of history. In other words, these videos not only faithfully mirror the images of times, but also represent a social spectrum as wide as a constellation. The fate and synesthésie sealed in such images of times may have lurked in the depths of the common consciousness shared by the artist and the viewers. To sum up, this series transcends the confines of existing texts and images, turning itself into the artist’s epiphany in terms of spirit, life, and art. In addition, a magical aura may radiate again from the inner meaning of what JUN called “daily experts.”

[1] JUN did not give this series a formal title, but coined the term “Daily Experts” to describe it in a general manner. Treating JUN’s description as the point of departure, this article seeks to expound the distinctive qualities of her works in this series.

[2] “Between Art and Life: Everyday Master,” interview with Jun Sojung by curator Woo Hyesoo, in Catalogue: Jun Sojung, p. 111.

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연극성과 거리두기 글 정연심

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설치와 영상 속 연극성  …..여기에 전시된 전소정의 작품은 드로잉 영상 설치 사진 등 다양한 매체를 혼합하면서도 관람객이 내러티브를 완성할 수 있도록 인터랙티브한 프로젝트를 보여 준다. 전소정의<꿈의 이야기:순이>프로젝트는 작가가 베를린에서 우연히 듣게 된 이야기를 바탕으로 시작됐다. 작가는 독일파견 간호사였던 순이의 삶을 지켜보면서 그녀가 살아 왔을 삶의 궤적을 '상상'한다. 시작은 순이에 대해서 들었던 것과 작가가 관찰한 내용에서 출발하지만, 이야기는 그의 상상을 통해 독일의 한국인 이민자(시나리오에는 광부들이 등장한다)에 대한 이야기로 확대되면서 실제의 이야기와 상상의 이야기가 뒤섞이게 된다. 또한 서교실험예술센터에서 전시 중인 설치 작품은 이 시나리오의 무대가 '설치'된 것이다. 즉 설치는 곧 '무대 장치'로, 전시실을 들어서는 순간 우리는 작가의 이야기 속 주인공이 된다. 한편 현실에서 출발한 이야기가 '꿈'이라는 상상력을 통해서 초현실주의적인 드로잉으로 표현되기도 한다. 양면으로 볼 수 있는 드로잉이 천장에 매달려 있어, 관람객은 그 사이 사이를 걸으면서 거칠면서도 섬세하게 표현된 작가의 손짓을 만날 수 있다. 제임스 조이스 식으로 말하자면, '의식의 흐름'을 따라 작품 사이를 걸을 수 있는 것이다.  전소정의 작품과 앞서 살펴본 정희승의 작품은 모두 '몰입'과 아리스토텔레스의 극의 기본이었던 '감정이입'을 요구하는 가운데, 전소정의 작품에서는 끊임없이 이러한 심리적 일체감을 방해하는 요소들이 등장한다. 즉 이민노동자였던 '순이'가 느꼈을 문화적 소외감과 타향에서 간호사로 일하는 노동자로서의 괴로움을 이해해 나갈 즈음, 갑자기 본질적으로 등장하는 작가의 내러티브가 분명 우리의 몰입을 방해하는 요소로 작용한다. 전소정이 설치한 모래더미와 아날로그적인 오래된 TV영상작업, 피아노를 연상시키는 설치 아래 연필로 낙서를 할 수 있는 세팅은 연극 무대의 완벽한 세팅과는 거리가 멀다. 그래서 오히려 더 현실적인 환경을 만들어 준다.  베르톨트 브레히트는 1920년대 말 '아리스토텔레스적인 연극' 대신 '베르프렝둥(Verfremdung)'효과를 정립했다. 우리말로는 '거리화, 소원'으로 번역되는 이 말은 영미권에서는 'V-effect'로 널리 알려져 있다. 브레히트는 이 용어를 통해 전통적으로 중요하게 여겨 온 감정이입(Einfuhlung, Empathy)을 당연시하게 받아들이는 자세를 비판한다. 그는 '거리두기'를 "명백하게 보이거나 익숙하고 이해할 수 있게 보이는 어떤 것, 액션이나 인물을 제거하게 하며, 대산 호기심과 놀라움을 유발하는 것"으로 정의한다. 그에 의하면 'V-효과' 로 관객들은 현실에 대해 더욱 비평적인 의심을 기울이게 되며, '감정이입'을 통해 세상을 잊고 연극에 무조건적으로 빠져드는 것이 아니라 자신이 처한 상황을 다시 생각해 본다는 것이다. 이것이 비평적 '거리두기'일 것이다. 전소정의 작업은 일견 이러한 '비평적 거리두기'라는 연극적 과정과 연결된다. 그리고 '순이가 꾸고 있는 꿈'에 우리 자신을 몰입시키면서도 또 거리를 두게 하는 '연극성(Theatricality)'을 보여주고 있다. 

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전소정 展 2009.12.15-1.16

글 김인선 윌링앤달링 대표, 이화여대 겸임교수

현대미술에서는 '특정 장르'로서 작품이 논의되는 것이 무의미하게 보인다. 작가들이 다양한 매체를 통하여 실험적인 형식을 홍수처럼 쏟아내는 21세기 미술 현상 속에서 전소정의 작품 역시 예외는 아니다. 다양한 장르가 적용된 그의 작업 과정은 그 결과물을 보여 주기까지의 과정에서 작용하는 '시스템'에 주목하게 한다. 즉 전소정의 작품은 연극을 제작하기 위한 몇가지 과정을 밟고 있으나 그것이 결국 시각예술이라는 분명한 카테고리에 머물 수 있게 되는것은 작가에 의해 조절되고 있는 모종의 관계들의 형성에 있는 것이다. 전소정의 개인전 <일인극장>은 향후 10년동안 세계 각국을 돌면서 진행될 프로젝트이며 이 기나긴 여정의 첫 시리즈를 공근혜갤러리에서 출발한다. 1인극이라는 다소 개인적인 공간 속에서의 독백과 행위는 인간의 감정 중에서도 불안감과 공포를 소재로 펼쳐지는 다양한 이야기를 만들어 내는 작업이다. 전시 공간 속에 놓인 사진과 영상 설치물의 이미지는 연극의 한 장면을 담은 스틸 컷 사진 혹은 배우가 만들어 낸 자신의 이야기를 담은 1인극을 영상 기록한 것이다. 퍼포먼스를 실행하는 인물은 작가가 의뢰한 20여명의 연극배우 감독 디자이너 무용수 큐레이터 아티스트 등 다양한 국적과 직업을 가진 '참여자'들이다. 다분히 연극적인 형식을 빌어 제작되는 이 작품의 결과물은 전시 공간에서 완결된다. 지극히 개인적인 경험과 감정은 전시라는 공적인 형태로 관객에게 공개되는 것이다. 관객은 완결되지 않은 작업, 10년간의 파편 속의 한 부분에 서 있게 된다. 전소정은 '광고'형식으로 연극을 실행하고자 하는 사람을 모집하여 작가와 작품 간의 관계를 사회적인 맥락 속에 내몬다. 이는 작품 기획을 대중에게 알림으로써 자발적인 참여를 유도하여 그 정당성에 공개적으로 동조하게 한다. 참여자들은 자신이 직접 기술한 텍스트를 통하여 참여의 근간을 스스로 만든다. 이는 작가가 정해 놓은 바로 그 지점, '설치 작품'인 무대에서 '퍼포먼스'형식으로 실행된다. ���가가 제작한 공간의 제한된 영역과 기록의 행위는 참여자를 통제하는 장치가 된다. 그래서 결국 작가의 렌즈에 적합한 지점을 참여자 스스로가 찾는 심리적인 지배 시스템이 작동하게 되는 것이다. 이 것이 기록으로 끝나지 않고 결국은 시각예술로써 작가 개인의 시스템으로 환원되는 것은 전시장에서 펼쳐지는 개인전의 형식으로 완결되는 전형적인 프리젠테이션 방식에서 드러난다. 무대를 만들고 배우를 모으고 기록하는 작가의 역할은 세상의 풍경에 카메라 렌즈를 맞추어 발견하고 기록하는 사진작가들의 활동과 비교해 '연극적 형식을 빌어 만들어낸 작품'이라고 규정짓는 것은 지나치게 단순한 시각이라고 할 수 있겠다. 단순한 연극이 아니라고 단언 하는 또 하나의 이유는 관객과 작품의 관계가 연극 관객의 태도와는 다른 전시 관람객으로서의 태도를 이끌어 내는 시스템이 존재하기 때문이다. 관람객은 구체화된 나레이션을 좇기 보다는 보라빛의 강렬한 색채 속에서 감정의 발산을 뿜어내는 인물의 순간적인 동작과 표정이 반영된 '이미지'자체에서 더욱 감흥을 얻는다. 이미지는 또 하나의 무대, 즉 전시장이라는 공간의 본질에 조응하는 것이다. 우리가 보고 있는 이미지는 참여자가 만들었다기 보다는 작가가 만들어 낸 시스템의 세계 속이라는 점을 인지해야 한다.  마지막으로 의문이 남는다. 왜 작가는 본 프로젝트를 10년이라는 긴 기간 동안 지속하기로 했을까? 그동안 축적될 행위와 감성의 관계, 이를 끄집어내기 위해 작가가 구축하는 시스템은 그대로 지속될지, 보다 진화된 시스템이 만들어질 수 있을지 10년 후의 결과물이 궁금해진다.

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The Virtue of Laborious Deed

<The Habit of Art>, the recent video work by Sojung Jun which repeats seven different kinds of simple episodes, struck me with quite an unfamiliar impression. The reason for this unfamiliarity was that this work seemed to keep a distance from the artist’s previous approach, both in form or content. She used to approach trivial stories that happen in reality that surrounds her, from diverse perspectives. Trivial, but they could be extremely precious life stories to somebody else. She would express them in her imaginary fictive world through theatrical composition and stage work, performance and installation, narration and video, etc. In the video work that shows the image of a bird revealed behind huge flames that have revived from ash burnt pitch black, a figure who keeps on pouring water into a broken pot all night long, a glass bead seducing the eye of the beholder by drawing circles on a palm, an endlessly tall tower of matchsticks built with utmost care only to collapse at the end, endeavor in vain to fish out the moon reflected on water, and people jumping over circular loops on fire in a flick of time or someone walking on the balance beam while holding a cup full of water; there are no dramatic narrative, grand spectacle, nor overwhelming beauty of imagery to be found. Brief episodes made up of such simple actions are simply being reiterated serenely but infinitely. 

  However, the moment the viewer becomes aware of somebody – obviously, it is not that difficult a task to grasp that this is the artist – who exists behind all these simple actions which were realized in visually simplified manner, this video of endless repetition starts to reveal different layers of  somewhat complicated stories. Whereas there are actions successful in only few attempts, there are continuously failed actions which require somebody else’s help for it to be  completed. But in fact, whether there was successful completion or not was not such an important issue. Reckless, single-minded, and sometimes even magical episodes on the screen remind us of some images out of the blue. We are suddenly reminded of ordinary lives of an old man fishing at some Scandinavian sea, of a dancer dancing in the woods of Finland, of an actor performing a masked play in a suburban event venue, of middle-aged women in the kimchi factory, of a collector of old objects, of Sooni in the German dance hall. By evoking such remembrance, the artist manages to thread all of their stories at once. And then, we can even sense a clue for understanding her previous works, which was rather unexpected. So then, we start to understand why such random stories had captured her and what kind of messages such daily lives would have conveyed to her. 

  Despite not having embellished sweet stories, despite not having used any device to trace rapid changes of emotions or to enhance excitement and tension, Sojung Jun’s work possesses a certain attractive feature that captures our eyes. The reason why we cannot help but watch the images of somebody’s daily life which seem to be displayed without any insight, is not because of spectacular sights but because of somebody’s faint voice, actually, due to the story that this voice tells. The speaker with somewhat awkward accent tells us a story which talks mainly about very trivial matters but the audience is provided with a certain secretive experience as if eavesdropping on the characters’ intimate lives. As such, this almost ‘bewitched’ experience of being attracted to and absorbed in somebody else’s life and what it tells us, is the most important core of Jun’s work. But in fact, what exists before such intimate experience of the viewer is the very experience and sympathy of the artist herself. When the artist observes closely in detail the lives of the people who will appear in her work and shares conversations with them, there is a certain ‘connection’ formed between the artist and the object figure through the process of imagination, imagining in their shoes. Hence, during the time the artist herself becomes one of them and shares their lives and stories, such sympathy maximizes in degree. That is, during the process of locating herself in the midst of the lives of others and their stories, Jun transposes them all into her inner self and overlaps them with internal conflicts which arise constantly inside of her. In this cycle, the imaginative power of Sojung Jun, to be able to view the world from the other’s perspective, is all the more outstanding.

  It is said to be a coincidence, but when observing the group of people that Jun was interested in, was attracted to all along, that is, whom she had sympathy for, we can see that they are the ones who would strongly concentrate on or be absorbed in a certain attitude or way of life. It is likely that Jun had discovered certain moments of moving to and fro between the borders of daily life and art, from such scenes. She had observed them from the inner side of the boundary called ‘art’ where she belongs. Such observation must have made the artist, who still ponders on ‘the role of art’ or ‘the attitude in creating art’, question herself with endless questions. In the reality where all the visible things in front of us become more and more superfluous, what can people of the sorts called ‘artist’ possibly do anything different from those people who push their ideal to the extreme in their ‘daily routine’? And what should they be doing?... As these questions linger on, the rather unfamiliar choice called <The Habit of Art> hence creates a valid context from the hidden side of the simply visible world. It succeeds in positioning itself within meaningful relation with the artist’s previous works. It is because the work consists of asking oneself sincere questions about what is art and what does making art mean. It shows in repetition, without embellishment, the process as is of experiencing through one’s own body, actions out of habit in one’s petty ordinary routine, such as piling up matchsticks or pouring water to a pot, as well as actions which are enabled only through repetitive training and practice, such as balancing on a  beam or swiftly jumping over loops on fire, or rolling a glass bead on the palm at one’s will. The fact that now the artist has begun pondering on the world that she had been observing with sympathy toward the other’s viewpoint and life, pondering through her own body, her body that repeats such laborious action(labor), boils down to the commencement of perceiving anew ‘my’ reality which had been always there, just like their reality, within the borders called art. Therefore, incomplete actions which could not fulfill the original plans that are still found right in front of Sojung Jun, display a rather fortunate situation.

  The person who walks on the risky borderline, the one that has no other choice but to do it. This person is the very figure who perceives both existences of the other sides of the border. The person’s laborious deed has as purpose, not to render the border nihil but to constantly remind us of our divided selves in agony and pain at the other end of each side, of our desire and despair. Now, Sojung Jun seems to have composed her breath to willingly go forth on such a laborious path.  

Yunkyoung Kim Curator

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Six nights  / Six nuits, de Sojung Jun

Il est rare que les expositions de travaux réalisés dans le cadre des échanges internationaux donnent lieu à des oeuvres dans lesquelles la dimension visuelle soit aussi explicitement corrélée à une dimension littéraire que dans le projet Six Nights / Six nuits de l’artiste coréenne Sojung Jun.

Alors que les créations plastiques contemporaines tirent leur possibilité d’intégration immédiate au circuit de l’art mondial d’être moins dépendantes des « frontières linguistiques » que le cinéma ou la littérature,  A Story of a Dream : Suni, l’oeuvre génératrice des éléments de diverses natures rassemblés dans Six nuits, se présente sous la forme de deux écrans de taille identiques juxtaposant un flux d’images (avec une bande sonore ) et le défilement d’un texte articulé en actes eux-mêmes subdivisés en chapitres dialogués, introduits par des « indications scéniques » de lieux.

Cette singulière juxtaposition de l‘image et du texte ne fonctionne pas comme un sous-titrage traditionnel car le texte original en coréen y figure au même titre que sa traduction anglaise indiquant par là que cette œuvre repose sur une idée de la « traductibilité » dépassant la différence des langues pour explorer les possibilités et les limites d’un partage d’émotions intimes avec un public, enjeu qui anime l’ensemble du travail de Sojung Jun. 

Lors du vernissage, c’est en effet de l’espace extérieur à la salle de l’exposition qu’une actrice interprétera en se détachant du public l’un des « chapitres » du texte A Story of a Dream : Suni, accompagnée par trois musiciens qui comme elle, comme la marionnette avec laquelle elle danse et dialogue, et jusqu’au public lui-même s’avéreront figurer dans la liste des nombreux personnages voués à apparaître au fil de cette histoire.

Dans un style de narration qui peut rappeler celui de Lewis Carroll dans Alice au pays des merveilles, le personnage de Suni, initialement égarée avec sa sœur « entre plusieurs mondes, dans  le brouillard d’une vallée aux escaliers* sans fin »  rencontrera une foule hétéroclite  de personnages chaque fois lors de brefs épisodes dialogués. Ces derniers, empreints d’une tonalité affective souvent sombre, voire menaçante, se succèdent à la manière de « tableaux scéniques » selon une logique narrative aussi décousue que celle d’un rêve.

C’est la raison pour laquelle la partie « figurative » de la  vidéo résulte de l’exploration par la caméra  de grands dessins au fusain, parcourus selon des directions constamment changeantes au regard du déroulement régulier du texte,   dont les moments successifs n’en coïncident pas moins avec les fragments des lieux ou des personnages évoqués, transposés sur l’écran selon les différents grossissements de l’image. Bien plus qu’une illustration du « récit du rêve », l’imprévisible des mouvements de la prise de vue des cadrages et parfois des superpositions d’images fait alors partager au spectateur les expériences déconcertantes et les intensités affectives auxquelles est exposée Suni.

Le contraste entre la construction complexe des espaces et les silhouettes sommairement esquissées de ce grouillement de personnages, individualisés seulement par l’expression de leurs regards, rend sensible la rapidité des changements émotionnels énoncés dans le texte, caractéristique commune au temps propre du rêve et aux âges de l‘enfance d’où provient son pouvoir de fascination.

Le crédit incontesté à chaque instant accordé à de telles visions s’en trouvera d’ailleurs confirmé par la présence sous forme d’objet réel exposé d’un petit théâtre réduit pour la seule entrée en scène de trois visages pressés les uns contre les autres. Les tabourets placés sous cet objet invitent de plus le public à « jouer » une telle image qui se trouve tout à la fois énoncée dans le texte et représentée plusieurs fois dans l’unique œuvre graphique de cette exposition, curieusement placée sous l’escalier, derrière les écrans de projection ! 

Cette dissimulation d’un dessin par un escalier aussi réel que fonctionnel entre singulièrement en résonance avec la fréquence des escaliers dans le texte, évoquant de sensations de chute ou d’ascension, tout comme dans les dessins à la base de sa dramatisation visuelle. La grisaille produite par le fusain dans la multiplication de ces escaliers contribue d’ailleurs à rapprocher curieusement la complexité des architectures du rêve de Sojung Jun des célèbres Prisons imaginaires de Piranèse qui en conçut, dit-on, le dessein – développé sur une quinzaine d’années – lors d’un accès de fièvre. Comme si, par-delà les siècles et les cultures, certains régimes de fonctionnement de l’esprit avaient étrangement recours au même artifice d’espace pour l’organisation de leurs vertiges…

* Ou  « de volées d’escaliers sans fin »… ? 

  Paul Guérin  Centre Européen d’Actions Artistiques Contemporaines juin  2010

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