I am, at times, deceived by misconceptions and illusions created by the world that unfolds on the two-dimensional plane; at other times, I pretend as though I have been fooled by it. As I do so, I contemplate the relationship between reality and the virtual or indirect experience. By “painting what I have never seen in person,” I view the world in which images reproduced by pixels on the screen gradually come to resemble the reality. I paint scenes differently from how they appear or reveal what is not apparent; hence, the very process of painting images that do not actually exist encompasses this series of works.

M was among the artists I met at a residency program in China in October 2019. M was Serbian and shared stories about various corners of Serbia—a country that I have never been to. As I heard stories and saw pictures of places I was not familiar with, “a Serbia” unique to me was born in my imaginations. I thought, ‘What if I were to draw this Serbia in my mind and visit the country sometime in the future?’

I asked M to send “photos of magnificent scenes of nature in Serbia,” and I came across a photo of a mountain among the JPG files M had sent. I imagined as though I am walking through the mountain and painted whilst conversing with M who had been there in person. As I was painting the Serbian mountain, I realized, from a word M used in our conversations, that what I thought was a mountain is in fact a quarry. I had imagined a landscape, but in life, stones would have been extracted and the quarry would have transformed from how it was captured in M’s photo, even as I am writing this statement. I wondered what the quarry would look like today, so I searched the web using the name of the place, “Венчац” (Venčac, in English). I was successful at gathering relevantly recent images and information of the quarry, but the more I searched, my painting receded further away from the actual quarry. Eventually, my work became sketches of scenes that do not exist anywhere.

This series of paintings was inspired by experience, realization, and idealization stemming from “using a photo of an existing place to draw a place that does not exist” and “imagining a non-existent place and wishing to be there some day.” Train of thoughts on two-dimensional plane and painting also guided my work. Preconceptions and imaginations that engage in the visual experience of what has not been witnessed in person led to the experience of visiting non-existing places. Sceneries that turn up on my canvas from touches of the paint brush may have already or is currently disappearing from quarrying. I let my thoughts develop from what I saw, and such thinking made images appear in a certain way. The scenescapes on my canvases will not be found in Serbia.

Landscape_Dari_Footnote, Painting_Endnote_Kkori *Dari is the Korean word for bridge, and kkori is the Korean word for tail. Each is a play on the Korean words corresponding to footnote and endnote.

(Commentary: Juri Cho)

Footnote 1. Landscape Painting In the history of painting, landscape has always existed as images of trees and forests, rocks and mountains, and water and sea. The status of landscapes and its defining characteristics have evolved only slightly. Natural images or village scenes have served as customary background of iconic figures’ portraits or images portraying certain events for much longer than as the main subject of paintings. The term “landscape” began to denote nature ubiquitously present like air or standing like a stage backdrop as a result of a rather modern practice. The very act of separating landscape painting as a leading genre of art was also part of a Western practice. Korean painting has a long history of having been influenced by Chinese painting. The focus of Korean painting gradually shifted from the tradition of painting landscapes in one’s mind and imagination to painting real scenery landscapes. In Europe, classical paintings and idealistic positioning of landscape developed and flourished in post-Renaissance Italy, England, France, and the Netherlands. The concept of landscape also evolved in contemporary paintings.

Yet, it seems meaningless to keenly distinguish such changes or trace the evolution by period. Natural landscape in today’s paintings is political in content and imitative visually. However, from a broader perspective, landscape is still a subject open to individual interpretation and artistic intervention within the greater boundary of humanistic framework, and it is also a canvas reflective of one’s introspection. It is necessary for us to ruminate on the fact that landscape “became” a genre, that there was once a time when landscape was not a subject matter for painting. In the 18th century, English were inspired by the popularity of Italian-style landscape paintings and realized that bucolic landscapes of England can also become subject matters for paintings. Think about how English painters took Claude Lorrain and Nicolas Poussin’s style of pastoral landscape paintings and created a landscape painting style reflective of the British climate and society. It becomes clear then that transferring nature to the canvas as painted images was a very artificial process, a cultural byproduct tied to the architecture, landscaping, and literature of the time, as well as part of institutionalization.

Telecommunication, digital technology, and the sum of physical and imaginary experiences of the world also provide points of distinction in creating and consuming images of today’s natural and urban landscapes. Nonetheless, the fact that the artist is the key medium in the process of landscape becoming landscape paintings remains unchanged.

2. Jpeg - joint photographic coding experts group JPEG was created by the JPEG (Joint Photographic Experts Group) Committee. It is the standard for the compression of static images, such as photos, to be used in digital communication. The individual creating the image can control the resolution of the image and the file size. JPEG was devised for full color and gray scale image compression, and it has strengths in displaying photography or other artistic genres. JPEG is most commonly used on the Internet along with GIF, but JPEG has better data compression efficiency compared to that of GIF. While GIF only works with a palette of 256 colors, JPEG supports 16 million colors, which makes it suitable for high resolution image displays. Another useful aspect of JPEG is that the individual creating the image can control the quality of the image and the file size. If we are to compress a large image file into a very small file, the image quality is bound to suffer. However, with the JPEG compression technique, image quality and file size can be adjusted without damage. Source: Naver Knowledge Encyclopedia (Original Text: Doopedia), Search word: JPEG 3.

Rocks For someone who has frequently moved from provinces to new towns, and between Korea and overseas, rock resist simply falling under a geological category. Rather, they become a part of ‘nature’ in the likes of the protruding boulder along the Bukhan Mountain ridge; or architectural ‘material’ conveyed by the gleaming marble façade of a modern high-rise; or building ‘blocks’ in the forms of bricks and cement that render the ashen landscape of a typical suburban residential district. In a certain sense, houses, roads and mountains are all essentially rocks; thus, rather than being a mere crossing of properties, rocks collectively embody the entire world as the most enduring and colossal lump. The subtle signals of unconsciousness emitted from rocks in their natural and artificial forms cannot be simply brushed away. The dense rocks were once chief pillars of ancient civilizations and wedges anchoring field sand rivers. It was the relentless furrowing, paving and cracking that robbed these rocks of their integrity and deep-rooted sense of place, and reduced them to urban residues and industrial wastes harrowingly scattered about.

Source: “Photography of Kang Hong-Goo and the Unconsciousness of Rock”s in research, re: researched, Written by Juri Cho, Translated by Jiyoung Kim, 2016.

4. Serbia I’d like to introduce you to the Balkan Peninsula, which you may not be so familiar with! The Balkan Peninsula is situated at the southern part of Europe, and is shared by Greece, Albania, Bulgaria, Romania, #Serbia, Montenegro, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and North Macedonia. Serbia’s top tourist attractions include the Republic Square, Skadarlija Market, and the Skadarlija Street, which sits between the Square and the Market. Skadarlija Street is #Belgrade’s art street and namely the center stage of bohemian life. The street is home to lovely cafes and restaurants, and the harmony of various flowers and mural paintings on the buildings make Skadarlija Street a great photo spot. Source: Naver Blog, “Engoo, 25-minute Online English Lessons,” Getting Help from a Local, Tourist Information on the Balkan Peninsula, Entry Editor: Andoo 5. Quarry “Yongma Waterfall Park began to see drastic changes since 1961. During the Japanese colonial era, stones and rocks for construction were collected from a quarry in Jongno-gu, Changshin-dong. After independence, Yongma Mountain became Seoul’s new quarry for construction aggregates.

It remained a quarry for 27 years until 1988, and then newly opened as the Yongma Dolsan Park in 1993. The park underwent a name change in 1997 to be called the Yongma Waterfall Park from then on. [...] The precipice that was once a quarry now stands as the largest artificial waterfall in Asia. The 51.4-meter tall Yongma Waterfall is joined by the Cheongryong Waterfall on the left and the Baekma Waterfall on the right, which appear as though they are guarding the Yongma Waterfall. Together, the waterfalls create a unique topography with a refreshing and marvelous view. At the foot of the magnificent waterfall sits a pond, measuring 700-pyeong in area.” Source: “A Former Quarry that Transformed into the Greatest Waterfall in Asia”, The Editorial Team of A Guide to Living in Seoul, Seoul&, Wonjeong Kim, PR Officer of the Jungnang-gu Office 6. Travel Log The Travels of Marco Polo was a medieval best seller, said to have been the most popular book in Europe after the Bible. It is evident from the title that is a travel log, mainly with fabulous stories from the author’s travels. In reality, however, this is not so much the case.

The book’s original title is The Description of the World (Le Devisement du Monde). Marco Polo wanted to provide comprehensive information about parts of the world that Europeans had never been to. He described the geographical location, religion and lifestyle of the locals, language, and political conditions of those places in detail. In other words, his objective was not “to create unfamiliar and uncanny stories” but “to deliver information systematically and accurately.” Marco Polo must have predicted from the onset that people will think his book is absurd. For this reason, he frequently used phrases like “no one would believe this without seeing it,” “it is almost hard to believe what you hear,” and “you must know this.” He also stated, “my testimony is right and genuine without falsehood” and “it would be a great sin if I don’t make the wonders I have seen or have heard to be true be known by people by (sharing it myself and having Rustichello) record it in writing.” Source: The Travels of Marco Polo, Dr. Wonjae Jang’s “Curious?”, The Korea Economic Daily, April 17, 2017 7. Upon WHITE A long time ago, I was told the story of the Inuit, how they have countless expressions for the white color of snow.

I was inspired by the way the natural environment and a language of a people can consolidate to create the intricate imagery of light. However the truth was, they did not have hundreds of words for white even though they are surrounded by pearly snow. This idea was the result of the western anthropologists’ misunderstanding and over-analysis of the agglutinating language system of the Eskimos.

Source: Rhapsody in White, Juri Cho, 2017 8. Geometric Geometry: A branch of mathematics that studies shapes and the properties of the space those spaces occupy. Geometry has its origins in Ancient Orient, and elementary geometry was compiled by the Greek mathematician Euclid of Alexandria. This study has advanced to include various subdivisions of geometry such as analytic geometry, differential geometry, projective geometry, and geometric topology. Geometric: Of or relating to geometry. Source: Google Dictionary, Search Date: June 7, 2020 9. Park As urban spaces expanded and became more densely populated, the need for natural environment grew. Between the 16th century and 19th century, cities in Europe and the United States built public open areas, green zones, plazas, parade plazas, promenades, and public gardens to improve the urban environment. Around the 19th century, many European cities grew and became industrialized. A large portion of the population was focused in these industrialized cities while a great majority of non-urban areas were rural, farming villages. Original scenes of nature became rare. Natural spaces in the city were civilized reproductions of nature in its original form, and such were considered beneficial. In Korea, the Public Park (also called the Foreign Park) was created in the foreign concession of Incheon in 1888. The Public Park was followed by the Japanese Park (1890), Independence Park (1897), Hwaseongdae Park, Tapgol Park, Yongdusan Park in Busan, Dalseong Park in Daegu, and other public parks, but they did not lead to systematic planning and construction of urban parks due to the Japanese colonial era and the outbreak of the Korean War. However, in the 1960s, the need for clean, green, and open spaces for relaxation increased due to rapid industrialization and urbanization. Higher national income, more leisure time, and changes in people’s values also pushed the need for parks. Source: Online Encyclopedia of Korean Folk Culture, Keyword: park, recreational area, Entry Contributor: Ja-won Lee (Sungshin Women’s University, Department of Geography), 2009.

10. Drawing from Life (xiěshēng)

Chinese translation of the word “sketch.” A sketch is a quick study or drawing done on site. In China, xiěshēng refers to bird-and-flower paintings (sometimes mountain-and-water paintings), created from direct observation and drawing of the subject, without relying on imagination.

Source: Dictionary of Art, Terms Edition, 1998, Editorial Team at the Korean Dictionary Research Publishing.

“To understand the meaning of xiěshēng, one might consider the difference between Greek sculptures and Roman sculptures. Greek sculptures idealized visual phenomena, while Roman sculptures were concerned with understanding objects as phenomena. As these practices developed and the Renaissance period began, scientific studies done to accurately portray visualized objects led to perspective and chiaroscuro techniques. With the development of such techniques, the content of sketches also shifted gears; objectivity was dominated by subjectivity, and the purpose of sketches changed to understanding what is reflected in the mind. In other words, there was a change from drawing from life (xiěshēng) to drawing from the heart (xiěxīn). For this reason, the act of sketching should be understood as far more than simply understanding the structure of an event to create a painting of it—it should be taken as the act of expanding its understanding to include even the most humane content. In that sense, the English expression “drawing from life,” which corresponds to xiěshēng, directly conveys the meaning of xiěshēng.”

Source: Doopedia Online Endnote 1. Kayoung Choi The Shadows of the Unseen, Finding a Slice of Rainbow, and Found are the titles of Kayoung Choi’s past exhibitions. Her artistic journey to find the unseen, the covered or abandoned, and those that cannot be reproduced stems from the boredom with historicized language and image. It can also be said that her practice may have originated from the nostalgia, obsession, and longing for the places she is afraid to visit or places that she has never been to despite the advances in travels and telecommunication. We live in a world where there is a surplus of everything. An exodus from daily life equates to a journey to find the exact opposite—it is a sincere search for rare and faded landscapes, and it is a journey that entails devising cumbersome rules and creative processes. This is, so to speak, the mission of contemporary artists and it is also the way experts who create visual images engage in their practices. The artist precisely cuts out what is desired, deletes landscape outside certain borders, or fills the canvas with something else; these artist interventions are generally solitary behaviors, which assume the canvas as a static space and the artist’s physical movements as motors that fill that space.

All such experiments are based on visual-perceptual thinking. Then, is Kayoung Choi’s painting different? Yes, it is different from other paintings, generally speaking, but when viewed in parts, they are only slightly different. That is because of the disposition and clash between basic “sketching (xiěshēng)” habits that originate from Oriental painting and the rich sensibility of the artist independent of those habits. Choi’s process of painting landscapes involves information-based conversations, exchange of letters, and chronological events that heavily engage active imaginations of an individual. She transfers the processes of waiting and communication bountifully as paintings on the canvas, and then projects her imaginations and hypnotic psychological state on it. This makes it appear as though she is narrating the time before her painting and the time beyond the canvas. For this reason, omissions are bound to occur if her work is simplified to “the act of painting what she has never seen before.” The practice of painting personal stories and the works resulting from it cannot convey the stories compactly without loss as JPEG images do.

Those paintings would not be able to bear the state of the unknown and excess like the travel stories of Marco Polo, nor can they be as accurate as encyclopedias or as light and refreshing as feedbacks on travel blogs.

A Serbian Mountain, a Quarry, Venčac is tremendously beautiful and serene because it exhibits brilliant and refined landscapes. Choi is an artist who fills the canvas as she jumps back and forth between imagination and reproduction. Her painterly technique and ways of building up entire exhibition spaces are already seasoned. The subjects she reproduced and narrated in the exhibition gallery through her two-dimensional works and installations are perhaps more than just landscapes; they may be representative of the variable processes in the act of painting itself, stories that disappeared into places, reasonable misunderstandings, stories painted over by brushstrokes, and things that we cannot possibly know, like impressions created inevitably. It may, perhaps, be helpful for the artist if we share naive questions of doubt and layers of our misunderstandings of her work, rather than just offer brilliant words of adoration.

2. Commentary: Landscape_Dari_Footnote, Painting_Endnote_Kkori As a curator and art critic, I write about three to four artist forewords a year, six to seven artist critiques, and more than 20 artwork descriptions. As for artist critiques, one or two are for artists that I have been acquainted with for some time, three or four are requests from museums, and every now and then, I write one for an artist whom I previously knew nothing about. Unless there is a particular reason to turn down the request, I try to write for them without falling too far behind the exhibition timeline. Here is how I communicate with the artist and produce my writing: first, I try to understand the artist’s idea and thinking reflected in the artist’s note or portfolio, and I also look for characteristics unique to the artist in terms of language, thinking, and visual methods. Then I meet with the artist to find answers to the questions I had or have conversations about new findings that emerge in the discussions. I try to utilize my first impressions and yet refined ideas to roughly decide the title of my writing and writing strategy.

Next, I spend two to three weeks on writing the text itself, in line with the artist’s circumstances and pace, and I also take the time to ask for the artist’s consent and opinion. This piece, written for the exhibition catalog of Kayoung Choi’s solo exhibition A Serbian Mountain, a Quarry, Venčac (May 7 – May 26, 2020, ArtSpace Hyeong), borrows the form of a commentary or guidebook that uses footnotes and endnotes. The process described above was also followed for this writing. The title of this writing, “Landscape_Dari_Footnote, Painting_Endnote_Kkori,” which will not appear in the catalog’s foreword, is a combination of different words I found while examining the paginations of the catalog design. Dari and kkori are Korean words that correspond to footnote and endnote, respectively, and I have joined these with the words “landscape” and “painting”—essentially, the title of this writing is a play on words. Writing this piece was not so much about drafting a foreword or epilogue; rather it was a process of discovering words that would complement Kayoung Choi’s writing and paintings. Inspired by the relationship between the artist and her friend M who sent pictures from Serbia, I presumed a similar relationship between her work and my writing and thought of adding an odd, guide-bot-like layer of explanation to her work.

The ten headers of each entry draw from same word fragments from my previous writings, light and casual online articles about Marco Polo’s travels, and specific words like quarry and parks; in other words, I compiled expressions and sentences that capture what would seem to exist in all cities—their ruins and romance.

The quality of conversations and mutual understanding between me and Kayoung Choi must have been shallow compared to the total sum of communication and the depth of friendship shared by the artist and M. Choi was still able to paint and I was able to write, nonetheless, because that is just the way things are in the art world. It is like The Travels of Marco Polo having established itself as literature we enjoy without questioning whether Marco Polo’s accounts are records of empirical experiences. Serbian quarry painting is a sequel to Choi’s previous work, and it is going to be a prequel to another work that is to follow. “A place that does not exist” and “a place that no longer exists” are subtly different. Likewise, there will be a subtle difference between the landscape of “a place that exists” and the landscape of “a place that came to existence” through Kayoung Choi’s work. I am curious to find out how they will differ, and I also look forward to seeing the artist’s desperate nostalgia for the space-time she has not yet experienced.

시각적으로 산을 묘사할 때, 사람들은 산을 내부가 아니라 외부에서 묘사한다. 가파른 길을 올라가는 과정이 소설이나 시로 묘사되는 것과 달리, 미술에서 산이 그려질 때, 우리는 원경을 토대로 묘사한다. 바꿔 말해, 산은 우리 즉 주체에게 먼 곳의 대상으로 그려진다. 다네다 산토카(Taneda Santoka, 種田山頭火)의 하이쿠(Haiku, 俳句: 일본의 시 형식 중의 하나)1 에 나오는 ‘헤쳐 들어가도, 헤쳐 들어가도, 푸른 산’(1926)과 같은 묘사를 보면, 그가 바라봄의 대상으로 산을 그리지 않은 것을 알 수 있다. 거기서 주체는 멀리 산을 보(기만 하)는 것과 달리, 내부 즉 숲속에서 푸른 산을 지각한다. 이런 내부로부터의 묘사가 경험의 과정을 함축한다면, 미술 작품에서 산이 시각적으로 표상될 때 먼 곳의 풍경으로 지각된다. 시각적 결과물은 등산처럼 몸소 경험하는 과정을 담아내지 못한 채 산을 표상하는데, 이때 시각화는 거리를 전제한다. 동양의 산수화에서 폴 세잔의 페인팅까지, 산은 바라봄의 대상으로 그려진다

화가가 산을 그릴 때, 그 결과물은 거리에 근거하여 표상된다. 뿐만 아니라 이때 거리는 그리는 사람과 작품을 보는 사람의 시선을 동기화한다. 관객들은 그림에서 산을 지각하지만, 그것은 가까운 거리에 없는 산의 모습이다. 관람객은 산을 지각하지만, 작품 속에서 산을 경험하지 못한다. 이때 화가가 바라본 시선은 그림을 보는 사람의 시선과 일치하게 된다. 산을 시각적으로 표상하려면 그것과 멀리 떨어져 있어야 하고, 관람객 역시 작품에 표현된 산을 먼 곳의 풍경으로 받아들여야 한다. 이와 마찬가지로 거리에 근거한 시선의 동기화는 오늘날 시각 문화에 전반적으로 나타난다. 공식적인 언론 보도를 비롯하여 사적인 SNS 공간, 그리고 이 둘을 아우른 인터넷 상의 이미지는 어떤 거리를 이미지에 담지만 금방 지각되지 않는다. 이런 특징을 우리는 관광지의 자연 이미지에 찾아볼 수 있다. 실제 산을 올라가지 않았는데도 머릿속에 그려지는 이상적인 모습은 국경을 초월하여 이미지로 유통된다. 그런데 우리가 이때 보는 자연의 이미지는 애초에 거리를 전제로 생산된 결과물이며, 현장에 대한 기대를 증폭시키는 매개물이 된다. 잘 나온 자연의 이미지는 그곳을 향한 기대감을 불러일으키지만, 몸소 경험하는 것과 달리, 바라봄의 대상으로 우리 눈앞에 나타난다―그리고 실제 관광지에 갔을 때도 그렇게 자연을 (바라)본다.

공간형에서 열린 최가영의 개인전 «세르비아의 산, 채석장, венчац»은 세르비아 출신 작가인 지인 ‘M’을 통해서 세르비아의 아름다운 산의 이미지를 jpeg 형식으로 받은 후 페인팅으로 표현한 작품으로 구성되었다. 이 과정에서 작가는 채석장이라는 사실을 나중에 듣게 된다. 산-채석장의 이미지는 작가가 처음에 떠올린 산과 자연의 이미지에서 점점 멀어져가면서, ‘실재하는 장소의 사진을 보고 어디에도 없는 곳’2으로 전시장에 소개되었다. 그러나 이런 정보 없이 보면 전시장에서 산이 아름답게 보이는 사실은 ‘변함없다’. 산에서 깎여나간 부분이 독립적으로 설치된 캔버스로 표현되었지만, 관람자의 눈에는 여전히 아름다운 산의 일부를 그린 것으로 비친다. 노동자나 기계의 부재 때문에, 이 장면은 아직도 산의 모습을 ‘시각적으로’ 유지하고 있다. 따라서 전시 제목에 포함된 채석장은 시각적으로 전달되기 어렵다. 그렇다면 이번 전시에서 채석장은 미흡하게 그려진 것일까? 아니다. 산-채석장은 그의 작품에서 재현의 주제나 소재에 머물지 않는다. 바로 사람들이 경험의 과정 없이 이미지를 시각적으로 받아들이는 방식을 포착한다. 실제로 가보지도 못한 장소의 이미지는 이상적으로 시각화된다. 앞서 언급한―작가 또한 이번 작업에서 참조하는―관광지의 자연경관을 찍은 사진이 그렇다. 그의 작품에서 깎여나간 채석장의 이미지나 흰 바탕으로 드러난 캔버스 평면은 그가 산토카가 꼽힌다.

산의 이미지를 조작하였다는 증거가 아니다. 오히려 작가는 작품을 통해서 오늘날에 전달되는 시각 기록물이 공백을 내포하는 일면을 드러낸다. 이 공백이란 바로 시공간적 공백이다. 눈앞에 바로 있는, 즉 현전하는 것과 달리, 산의 이미지는 먼 곳에서 바라본 이미지로 표현되었다. 최가영 «세르비아의 산, 채석장, венчац» 전시 전경 (사진: 양이언 / 작가 제공) 그 이미지는 국경의 벽 때문에―지금 상황에 비춰본다면 항공편의 감소, 국가적 거리 두기 때문에―보는 사람과 거리가 생길 수밖에 없을 뿐만 아니라 애초부터 거리를 근거로 표상되는 이미지이다. 거리는 거리감을 전달하면서 산-채석장의 관계에, 더 나아가 보고-경험하는 관계에 균열을 만든다. 우리 눈에 채석장이라는 사실은 명료하게 다가오지 않는다. 이는 무엇보다 채석장의 이미지를 떠올릴 때 노동이 먼저 시각화되지 않은 이유 때문에 그렇다. 기계가 움직이는 시끄러운 소리도 들리지 않는 산-채석장에 노동자의 흔적은 보이지 않는다. 그렇다면 노동자는 어디에 있을까? 작가는 노동자의 시선을 페인팅 속의 산-채석장이 아니라 전시 공간을 찾는 관람객의 시선에 거꾸로 반사한다. 관광지 자연의 이미지가 두 가지 의미에서 바라봄에 근거하였고 이는 오늘날의 과정 없는 체험 방식에 더 깊숙이 스며든다. 채석장의 분업 형태, 바로 인간이 기계화되고 어떤 상품 및 소비재로 완성될지 모르는 파편적 노동―기 드보르(Guy Debord) 가 말하는 ‘노동의 분할에서 세분화된 신체 동작’3―은 발터 벤야민(Walter Benjamin)을 경유해서 말하자면 경험(Erfahrung) 아닌 체험(Erlebnis)4으로 자리를 잡게 되었다. 파편적 체험은 결과적으로 산을 향유 대상과 자본―마르틴 파리』, 길, 2010, pp. 216-218 참조 하이데거(Martin Heidegger) 의 말에 따르면 더이상 이용 대상(Gegenstand) 아닌 징용된 물자(Bestand)5―으로 볼 뿐만 아니라 인간의 경험, 나아가 노동 또한 파편으로 만든다. 산-채석장은 거리감과 파편화가 공명하는 자리로 나타난다. 여기서 산-채석장과 인간-노동자의 관계는 미적 향유와 사용가치가 뗄 수 없는 관계망 속에 놓이게 된다. 작가는 이미지(시각 자료)를 아름다움의 이미지(이상적 상)를 바라(보)는 시점에서 지인에게 요청한 뒤 이를 바탕으로 작업하였다. 그가 만든 산-채석장의 이미지(평면 작업)와 공간(전시장)은 관람객의 시선을 파편이 된 시각적 체험-노동으로 이끈다.

과정이 배제된 거리라는 전제를 인지하지 못한 채 관람객은 대상을 익숙한 것으로 받아들인다. 우리가 산이나 채석장을 떠올릴 때 전형적으로 부여되는 특성, 바로 이상적으로 그려지는 시각 기록물이라는 의미의 이미지는 도처에 만연되어 있다. 실제로 그곳을 방문하지 않았는데도 접근할 수 있는 아름다운 경관은 SNS 공간이나 인터넷에 만연되어 있다. 익숙한 이미지는 이번 전시뿐만 아니라 갤러리 도스에서 열린 지난 개인전에서 작가가 다루는 소재이다. «FOUND 쉽게 찾은 풍경»(2017)에서 작가는 아이슬란드를 다녀와서 얻은 인상을 동양화의 ‘전형적인’ 모티프와 함께 재구성하였다. 그 전시 서문의 타이틀에 반영된 것처럼, 이 전시에서 작품은 “어디에도 없는 곳”(김미향)6으로 등장한다. 이번 전시는 지난 개인전 출품작에 부여된 장식적 요소를 덜 반영하여 산-채석장의 모습을 간결하게 보여준다. 그러면서(도) 작가는 이미지의 ‘전형성’을 작품에 포착한다. венчац는 실제로 있지만, 우리는 그곳을 경험하지 못한다. 그 대신 관람자는 자연의 익숙한 이미지, 바로 ‘어디에도 넘치는―앞서 나온 말을 다시 상기시키자면 ‘국경을 초월한’―이미지’를 통해 실제로 접근하는 과정을 막아서면서 거리감 없이 시각 체험을 한다.

«세르비아의 산, 채석장, венчац» 에서 이미지는 ‘깎여 나간’ 특성을 통해서 전형성을 또 다른 방식으로 담보되었다고 볼 수 있다. 특정 지역이 아닌 산의 모습과 소음과 움직임이 사라진 채석장의 모습은 실제를 단순화하여 시각 체험을 통해 우리를 길들인다. 산-채석장을 보는 사람에게 익숙함은 대상과 우리 사이의 거리감을 암암리에 배가시키지만 그것(거리감)을 은폐하면서 획득된다.

산을 바라보는 것과 마찬가지로, 관람객은 ‘헤쳐 들어가는’ 경험 없이 미술 전시를 어떤 경우에 피상적으로 받아들인다. 과정이 생략된 시각 체험에서 실제는 제한적으로 전달된다. 우리가 전시공간을 산이자 동시에 채석장으로 받아들인다면, 얼떨결에 캐내는 무언가를 꺼내 잡을 필요가 있지 않을까―그것은 아마도 (오히려) 손을 내려놓을 수밖에 없는 ‘대상과의 거리감’일 것이다.

최가영 «세르비아의 산, 채석장, венчац» 전시 전경 (사진: 양이언 / 작가 제공)

三つの講演 』森一郎, 講談社学術文庫, 2019 수록) pp. 115-116 found-%EC%89%BD%EA%B2%8C-%EC%B0%BE%EC%9D%80-%ED%92%8D%EA%B2%BD/ 에서 확인할 수 있다.

1 하이쿠는 엄밀히 말하면 5-7-5의 정형시 형식이지만, 이를 탈피하여 자유시를 추구한 인물 중에 다네다

2 «세르비아의 산, 채석장, венчац» 아티스트 노트 참조

3 기 드보르 『스펙타클의 사회』(1967, 木下誠, ちくま学芸文庫, 2003) 25번 테제 참조

4 발터 벤야민, 김영옥 외 역,「보들레르의 몇 가지 모티프에 관하여」,『보들레르의 작품에 나타난 제2제정기의

5 마르틴 하이데거「기술이란 무엇인가」(1953년 강연) (マルティン・ハイデガー『技術とは何だろうか

6 김미향이 쓴 서문 참조. https://www.artbava.com/exhibit/%EC%B5%9C%EA%B0%80%EC%98%81-

I call for each star Pae, Kyeong, Ok, such foreign girls’ names, ...... names of poets like ‘Francis JAMMES,’ Rainer Maria RILKE’

In YUN Dongju’s “A Night of Counting Stars,” he categorizes the names of exotic girls and poets as Pae (佩), Kyeong (鏡), Ok (玉), and includes figures like Francis JAMMES and Rainer Maria RILKE. However, during my childhood, all these names carried a sense of the exotic. The emotional gap conveyed by the term “exotic” surpassed that associated with a foreign country. Exotic taste is composed not only of physical distance but also of the yearning arising from unfamiliarity. In reality, the actual physical distance is inconsequential. What holds more significance is the kind of identity or crystallization that these blended tastes possess.

From Hawaii to Serbia to Furutsu

CHOI Kayoung’s journey spans from Serbia to Hawaii and eventually Furutsu. However, for the purpose of this essay, I will trace the narrative in reverse chronological order—from Hawaii to Serbia and, finally, to Furutsu. This sequence mirrors the order I was introduced to CHOI.

From Hawaii

The Yongin Natural Farm, established in Gyeonggi Province in 1976, underwent a transformation in 1996, rebranding itself as Everland. The theme park, situated on the same grounds, underwent a reorganization aimed at “Creating the infinite value of time and space to improve the quality of life.” While Everland ascended as a haven of dreams and aspirations, Bugok Hawaii in Changnyeong-gun, Gyeongnam, inaugurated in 1979 as a belated counterpart to the natural farm, experienced a decline post-1990s, culminating in its closure in 2017. This sets the backdrop for the discussion of CHOI’s exhibition Survival in Fantasy. Survival in Fantasy was CHOI’s solo exhibition at the The Kumho Museum of Art in 2022, a showcase that left a profound impact on me when I happened upon it by chance. As a child hailing from Bugok Hawaii, delving into the 99 chapters of Ninety-nine Pieces of Bugok Hawaii - From J in 1984 (2022) transported me back to the enchanting days of watching dancers perform on a stage filled with exotic allure. These memories, ignited by a postcard of J (Jacky) discovered by CHOI on eBay, unveiled the vividly colorful and glamorous stage adorned with various tropical plants, people adorned in vibrant swimsuits beside swirling lukewarm water, and an exceptionally long water slide, evoking a profound sense of nostalgia. The work took the form of a lenticular arrangement, presenting shimmering images at intervals against a white background that served as a gap in the memory, echoing those days when reality seamlessly intertwined with the imagined. While CHOI’s paintings evoked concrete experiences, for her, the imaginary realms were constructed through J’s postcards and low-quality home videos of Bugok Hawaii. She expressed, “I felt that the gap in my imagination would never be filled, even though the thickness of the imagination seemed to be building up like this...” The exotic allure sparked by J was once again brought to the forefront, yet instead of people from that era, including J whom she had never met, tropical plants assumed their place. Despite the slight time lag that separated CHOI from Bugok Hawaii, an interview with the remnants of Bugok Hawaii was structured to bridge the gaps in her memory embedded behind the paintings.

Through Serbia

There is also something to be said for CHOI’s solo exhibition A Serbian Mountain, a Quarry, Venčac at Art Space Hyung in 2020. Serbia is more like a foreign country than France, Germany, or England. I was speechless when I saw CHOI’s A Serbian Mountain, a Quarry, Venčac, which depicts the Benzas quarry in Serbia. If Bugok Hawaii draws a line in the sand between me and CHOI, Serbia draws a line in the sand between me and anyone else who has ever been there. I wouldn’t call it a unique experience, but there was a time when I was invited to a wedding in a small town in southern Serbia and danced a dance that looked like something out of an Emir KUSTURICA movie. CHOI, who is the subject of A Serbian Mountain, a Quarry, Venčac, had never been there. Rather, this exhibition led to an exhibition in Serbia in the fall of 2023. The idea for the exhibition was to receive local photographs from Serbian artist M (Maria) and paint them with the idea of walking and exploring the mountains in the photographs. However, she was shocked when she later realized that the landscape in the photo was a quarry. “I felt like the mountain was crumbling,” CHOI said. Perhaps this realization led to different preparations for the postwar exhibition. Regardless of whether it was a mountain or a quarry, the conditions for viewing and composing the transmitted image on a monitor were the same. While they may have had tremendous texture and color in the field, the pixelated landscapes appeared as paintings with “flattened surfaces” that made the foreground and background of the space appear closer together than they actually were. For this expression, she decided to try acrylic on canvas instead of hanji. Of course, the change has its own meaning, but CHOI seems to have focused on the desired expression rather than the change. For her, the tools of painting, such as support, pigment, and brushes, do not accompany her to rethink efficiency. The basic concepts of Oriental painting are still important to her. Therefore, in her paintings, strokes are definitely more prominent than surfaces. The sense of movement and speed through handwriting is a constant challenge for her, even with acrylics on canvas, and she makes flexible choices when necessary to find the right expression for the landscape she has not experienced. The surface of the paintings boldly reveals the omissions, fragmentation, juxtapositions, and combinations she chose to make in the process of taking in the discontinuous landscape, as the fictional landscape was altered in a way that could reveal its fictional nature. After the exhibition in Serbia, I received from her a few archival photographs of the place she had approached for the first time physically and for the second time conceptually. It will be interesting to see what these unfinished fragments of a foreign country will provide for CHOI in the future.

To Furutsu

CHOI Kayoung’s solo exhibition in the fall of 2023, titled Furutsu (Gallery Chosun, Seoul, 2023), conjures images of canned fruit cocktail, a symbol of 80s hospital visits. Aside from the pineapple and cherry in the honeydew, I didn’t even know the names of the individual fruits. When I looked it up, I found out that it contains papaya, coconut jelly, etc. Unlike the trend of seeking seasonal and organic fruits today, tropical fruits are the best for savoring exotic tastes. CHOI’s chronicle of Hawaii, Serbian quarries, and furutsu is a perfect example of embodying exoticism. However, rather than basking in the euphoria of exoticism, she brings forth discomfort. The fruits featured in Furutsu are not truly tropical, and even the flavors labeled as “tropical” originate from places unrelated to the tropics upon closer examination of the ingredients. Pineapple, a central element of Hawaiian pizza, was introduced to Hawaii with American capitalism and represents the cause of the Hawaiian kingdom’s collapse.

If that’s the case, what does the array of fruits displayed in Furutsu, arranged like still life paintings, mean to her? CHOI Kayoung considers these fruits as contemporary still lifes, each coexisting in an environment artificially stimulated by capital. As a trained Oriental painter, CHOI is undoubtedly familiar with the symbolism of the Four Gentlemen – plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum. However, given that the virtues of the Four Gentlemen are distant from contemporary concerns, new perspectives are often required to shed light on contemporary issues. Among the fruits in Furutsu, the dragon fruit, despite its vibrant appearance, possesses a subtle sweetness. CHOI skillfully captures the disparity between external and internal qualities. For the monstera, its aesthetic appeal as an interior decoration contrasts with its evolution to adapt and survive in a transplanted environment. Her exploration delves into the homogeneity between fruits and the human condition, emphasizing the necessity for survival skills in the face of environmental discrepancies. When asked if her perspective on this process is pessimistic or cynical, CHOI simplifies it by saying, “I tend to look at them as cute.” However, beneath this simplicity lies her complex feelings of compassion, understanding, and disgust, revealing the inhumanity of humans while challenging viewers to contemplate humanity within non-human entities. From Hawaii to Serbia to Furutsu, where “there are no people in the picture, but people are important,” CHOI’s formulated artistic space is convincingly thought-provoking.

The Statis/Stagnation of the Exotic Taste

Why, then, is there this twist, where exotic tastes take center stage externally but are ostracized internally? I couldn’t help but ask what is CHOI’s consciousness which can only be introduced after securing distance. She used the expression “stranger from afar” in reference to Furutsu. I was convinced by her assertion that maintaining a distance had become a habit to break free from the inertia of repetitive reflection. Reflective thinking, inherent to critical philosophy, involves internalizing the reconstruction of perception from external sources, prompting us to reconsider romanticization and idealization. Choosing to reclaim a deteriorating artifact of entertainment like Bugok Hawaii instead of letting it fade away, altering painterly conventions as modern landscape painting transforms into pixels on a monitor instead of a portrayal of life, and questioning the systems of production and consumption rooted in imperialism and capitalism as reflected in still life—all these endeavors address the byproducts of illusion and misperception. They highlight the illusion that we are sensing something even when it doesn’t physically touch our skin. While CHOI consistently emphasizes that illusion and idealization are half-hearted survival techniques for both humans and non-humans, her painterly task, as an artist, is one of completion and resetting. Despite occasional concerns about whether her themes are clearly conveyed in each solo exhibition due to the direct sensation conveyed by her painted images, I have high expectations for the overlapping and successive establishment of her tasks as a painter. CHOI, to me, resembles more of a filmmaker than just a painter. The continuity in her work, where even a single scene or object from one exhibition becomes the focal point of a connected worldview, exhibits her strength. The stasis of exoticism carries a living movement, much like the contraction and relaxation of the heart, moving forward in a way that avoids stagnation.

Hyunju KIM contemplates the gift value of art as an alternative to the commercialization of art. She intends to intervene as an art in social issues and problems of social minorities, and is more interested in nomadic activities than settlement.

나는 옮겨진 것들에 관심이 있다. 본래 이곳에 속하지 않은 것이 여기에 자리하게 된 경위, 자연의 세계에서는 만날 수 없는 것이 서로 접붙어 있는 상태를 관찰한다. 시공간적으로, 또는 관념적으로 멀리 떨어져 있는 것들을 향한 사람의 태도, 인식, 반응을 바라보며 현실과 이상 사이를 오가는 질문을 작업으로 드러낸다. 작업과 삶의 양쪽에 걸쳐있는 이 과정은 화면 안팎을 넘나들며 반복하는 나의 수행이자 성찰의 방법이다.

자연적인 시공의 맥락에서 이탈되어 옮겨진 것들, 일상에 자리하는 비일상성을 향한 관심과 리서치를 바탕으로 작업해오고 있다. 세르비아의 어느 채석장이자 사라져가는 산에 대한 가상의 현장감을 구현한 <세르비아의산, 채석장, 벤챠스>(2020) 작업은 실제 장소를 소재로 시공간적 거리감과 경험, 인식을 다룬 첫 작업이었다. 그 이후로 폐업한 테마파크 부곡하와이에서 남국의 낭만을 연출하며 노동하고 생존했던 외국인 댄서 J와 방치된 열대 식물을 담은 <Survival in Fantasy>(2022), 열대과일의 생장부터 후르츠 칵테일 통조림으로의 가공 및 이동에 이르는 과정에 인간상을 빗대는 <후르츠>(2023)를 발표했다. <후르츠>로부터 촉발된 통조림에 대한 관심이 해당 소재에 얽힌 역사성과 지역성으로 확장되고 있다. 현재는 빗나간 시차로 인해 경험해 볼 수 없게 된 시간과 장소, 연결과 단절의 감각에 집중하여 ‘관광과 유통’, ‘현재와 과거’를 x, y축으로 삼아 서사를 직조하고 있다.

나는 비일상의 영역에 심은 가설을 통해 일상을 다시 해석하고, 주체를 치환하는 방식을 거쳐 인간과 비인간을 아울러 공감하려 한다. 삶의 주체로서의 생존에 대한, 크고 작은 위협 앞에서 나름의 답을 찾아 고군분투하는 방법으로써의 작업과 예술을 나누는 작가가 되고자 한다.