This installation creates a ruinous landscape through a series of fractured concrete wall fragments. Drawing from Buddhist cosmology, the artist arranges these broken pieces into a circular form, symbolising infinity, completeness, and the cycle of rebirth. At its core, a boulder representing nature and an inverted spire suspended below create a visual tension, suggesting a subversive crisis and provoking reflection.Small towers, modelled after Thai cremation urns, are scattered throughout, alluding to mortality and an irretrievable past. The murals adorning the wall fragments, crafted using ancient techniques, are intricate yet fragmented, bearing witness to past civilisations and the inexorable passage of time.Seascapes depicting archaic vessels and tumultuous waves evoke perilous sea crossings, reinterpreting and seemingly transporting the displacement and turmoil that follow catastrophe or dramatic change. This imagery reflects the cycle of destruction and rebirth, interweaving past, present, and future. While deeply rooted in local history, culture, and religious traditions, this work guides viewers towards a broader, more profound understanding of human-induced destruction, global calamities, and the fundamental cycles of life as well as the passage of time.
In recent years, the artist's primary creative medium has been bark cloth made from the paper mulberry tree, which is collected and processed through traditional beating techniques. The paper mulberry is an ancient pioneer plant with strong adaptability and vigorous reproduction, commonly found in Taiwan and widely distributed across East Asia and the Indochinese Peninsula. In Austronesian cultures, the paper mulberry is not only a practical resource for daily life, but the ancient bark cloth craft has also become a representative cultural heritage, reflecting deep knowledge and skills that coexist with nature. This work primarily uses bark fibre to create forms reminiscent of plant leaves or heart valve flaps. It is complemented by lighting installations and percussive sounds that evoke both the continuous hammering process and the rhythm of a heartbeat. Through this cross-temporal interpretation of bark cloth craft and reinterpretation of ancient island wisdom, the artist not only summons a renewed understanding of the long-standing kinship between Taiwan and Austronesian cultures but also leads viewers to perceive the life force of humans and nature, as well as the profound connection between the two.
Another work, Remember, is a sound piece. In 2014, when the artist was living at 133 Garibong and began collecting wallpaper, a Chinese migrant worker, who had come to Korea to earn money, lived next door. The artist asked this migrant worker to recite graffiti discovered on the layers of wallpaper, and this recitation became the source material for the audio in the artwork. The graffiti left on the wallpaper of the small room in Garibong can also be seen as a memory and trace of Korea's rapid industrialization era.
Garobong-133 is a work born from wallpaper discovered during the artist's four-month stay in Garibong-dong, a Seoul suburb. The room, once home to factory workers or Korean-Chinese immigrants, retained traces of its previous occupants, including abandoned daily necessities. Within the 13 layers of wallpaper, Yuon uncovered personal items such as female workers' schedules and celebrity photos or random drawing used for spiritual solace, which he repurposed for his work. Yuon meticulously separated the wallpaper layers, soaking them in water and drying them before suspending dozens of these sheets from the ceiling. This arrangement allows viewers to traverse the installation, observing the marks imprinted on the aged wallpaper. In this work, Yuon reconstructs the temporal and biographical narratives embedded in the room's layered history, inhabited by a diverse array of residents including labourers, migrants, and Korean-Chinese individuals. The work serves as both archaeological evidence of former tenants' personal histories and a palimpsest of lived experiences.
During a visit to a Korean porcelain master's workshop, Yeesookyung discovered discarded porcelain fragments. While these pieces represented failed works to the esteemed master, Yee saw them as unfulfilled objects, broken and discarded before realising their purpose. Employing traditional kintsugi techniques, the artist uses gold to join these fragments, metaphorically suturing wounds. The resulting grotesque forms evoke tumours grown from abnormal cell division or malformed human organs. Yet, these works retain the pristine white beauty of porcelain, creating a unique sense of uncanny aesthetic. From disparate fragments to a cohesive porcelain piece, the exquisite binding process evokes the delicate, noble work of surgeons as they suture open bodies in operating theatres. By reassembling porcelain fragments, the artist not only revitalises discarded objects but also metaphorically resuscitates them, as if practicing witchcraft.
Indigo dyeing, with a long history of natural dye use, was largely supplanted by mass-produced chemical prints during modernisation. This traditional technique evokes the intricate relationships and potential tensions between humanity and nature, or more broadly, between civilisational progress and the natural world. Seven-Character Quatrain, crafted using indigo dyeing, comprises 28 volumes suspended at varying heights, mirroring the syllabic structure and rhythm of classical poetry. Each book unfolds gracefully, inviting viewers to traverse, peruse, and closely examine the installation. In this work, the artist not only showcases the subtle textures and layered hues of the fibre material but also symbolically alludes to the 'natural knowledge' embodied in indigo dyeing through these 'book pages'. This presentation can be interpreted as a 'book of nature', worthy of re-reading and seeking inspiration from.
Employing balloon bunnies that typically symbolise naivety and cuteness, this work challenges the stereotypes of endearing characters propagated by mass culture phenomena like Hello Kitty. The oversized balloon bunnies, awkwardly wedged between ceiling and floor, maintains an incongruously bright smile. Through this imagery, the artist critiques and mocks at the societal preference for clichéd, satirical aesthetics. Confined in a constrictive space, the bunnies' inability to raise their heads evokes scenarios where individuals are bound by societal rules and customs, compelled to acquiesce rather than resist. While the bunnies appear adorable, their uncomfortable postures belie an underlying discontent, metaphorically representing urban life overwhelmed by overpopulation and diminishing living spaces—akin to rabbits in cramped hutches. This work suggests that dwellers of the urban jungle experience constant unease, unable to fully realise a humane lifestyle even in their everyday life.
So Wing Po, hailing from a family of traditional Chinese medicine practitioners, created Emission using the medicinal plant Burma creeper, whose Chinese name is associated with 'envoy'. She draws a parallel between this name and the concept of a 'messenger/dispatcher', arranging the plant's seeds on metal plates reminiscent of satellite dishes. These are positioned to correspond with ear acupuncture points. This 'ear' thus serves a dual purpose: an organ with acupoints connecting the entire body, and a satellite communication device for transmitting and receiving messages. Through this, So establishes a profound link between humans, nature, and technology.
