Conversation: boma pak x Jiwon Yu, Ritual of Maatter
Conversation: boma pak x Jiwon Yu, Ritual of Maatter (EN)
Interviewer
Jiwon Yu, Curator, Leeum Museum of Art
Jiwon Yu: In an artistic career spanning over a decade, you've worked with a variety of artistic mediums, ranging from installations, videos, and digital images to things like objects, sounds, and fragments with a handcrafted quality. Despite these variations, you've shown a consistent worldview and orientation across your body of work to date. What are the themes that you've consistently been interested in exploring?
boma pak: I've long been drawn to things that get dismissed as "fake" or that people have no trouble casting aside, as well as images that substitute for real things. The sense I get from these elements seems similar to momentary flashes of light or the colors of the sky as they change from moment to moment. I refer to those perceptions as "matter." From the Western philosophical tradition until today, the common wisdom has prioritized concepts and structures while treating the opposing materiality as inferior. My main interest is actually in this material level.
I've also done work involving guerrilla gestures—things like using ribbons to wrap up large architectural features that I've encountered while walking around the city center or going into building lobbies and doing unexpected things there. I've explored what happens when you go into some place that's solid, authoritative—something we see and believe to be real—and you break the rules with artistic interventions that are not as logical and consistent.
Yu: In your work, you've adopted an approach of combining precarious elements rather than creating individual pieces of artwork to display in a gallery. For instance, instead of creating a sculpture, you would make furniture out of various objects or used different materials to decorate an entire space. What are your reasons behind this approach?
pak: My artistic practice involves projecting the sense of the world as "not existent" via light and material. That's why I use so many different mediums and proliferating identities in my work. My work implies how this world may not exist at all. It would be unnatural for me to create "complete" artwork. I'm more interested in feelings, atmospheres, randomness, ideas (plural), fakeness, and ephemerality. It is through these qualities that you can briefly disprove the existence of the world as we know it. I also believe that even the weightiest, most robust of moments consist of such aspects.
Yu: You've created a space with variable installation work for Ritual of Matter. The results are striking in that the occupied space is both an exhibition and an artwork in itself. Could you explain a bit about the relationships among the different elements and the underlying idea uniting them?
pak: I've created a kind of reception area for my own imaginary company "Sophie Etulips Xylang Co.," with portrait photographs of its board members as its main feature. The portraits are in silhouette, their faces unrecognizable. The figures in the "Shadow Selfie" series could be people I know personally; they could be people in stock images, or they could be the faces of people who don't exist in the world anymore. They might symbolize faces that exist fleetingly, or they could represent feminine images. By presenting them as lit from behind, I wanted to create the illusion that they are somehow real.
I wanted to make an altar to honor images that existed in ephemerality, and I also included objects that had a similar status and aesthetic. Examples of that include fake flowers, fake currency, pieces of plastic that could be used for cheap accessories, plaster cigarette butts, and small components that emerged out of the installation process.
The ROOM in the lobby is a place where visitors can rest. I gave a lot of thought to how to present it in light of that context. For this work, I made use of the items and features that were there to begin with—so I incorporated the tables and stools actually used at the museum into the installation. There's an oil painting on paper I made to capture the image of the kind of marble you might find in a corporate lobby. My version of the "marble plate" is portable. You can comfortably roll it up and carry it around. I printed the image of the painting on adhesive sheets and then put them onto furniture that was already there. I wanted to make something where only the "feel" of marble remained.
To create a distinct atmosphere, I used fragrances and melodies recorded by vocalists. The sound work represents the voices of anonymous people who have now vanished—who I refer to as "Sophie"—or of the board members who exist in silhouette. I created the fragrance myself, taking inspiration from sky-blue artificial flowers.
Yu: This project is a site-specific work you produced for the lobby's ROOM of the Leeum Museum of Art. Since the launch of Sophie Etulips Xylang Co., a few years ago, we've made several attempts to initiate "happenings" and physically occupy actual company buildings. Unfortunately, they weren't successful—they remained virtual for the most part. I remember, as a curator working with you on this project, being impressed by how flexible you responded to these "failures," embracing them and turning them into artwork in their own right. In one case, you changed your approach to pursue an online project (https://www.s-e-x-co.com/). Now, you're finally having an exhibition in the museum's lobby. I'm curious what your expectations were when you finally had the chance to go physical. Also, as you mentioned, you used fixtures that were already in use. I'd like to ask how you interpreted the museum space and its contextual characteristics. Given how your past work has involved presenting guerilla installations and performances in prestigious settings, you might have wanted to do something provocative at Leeum.
pak: That's why you can view my variable installations as also having a political implication. Qualities like feelings, atmospheres, chance elements, and different moments are casually consumed, sold, and replaced. My practice starts with a mixture of emotions, where I relate to those aspects, yet I also despise them and feel sorry for the way they exist in this world. In that context, I'm interested in mixing together opposing things, creating moments where you can't distinguish what is real and what is fake. Leeum Museum of Art consists of heavy, sleek material; it's a robust, prestigious institutional setting, sustained through the hard work of various people. I wanted to see my artistic language, which is defined by variable substance, become mixed with the spaces, substances, and systems here.
Yu: My understanding of your worldview as the basis of your practice is that it wasn't formed all at once—you've fleshed it out bit by bit with multiple artistic identities. It started with "fldjf studio" in 2015, and you've also had "dancer qhak" as a body who appears in performances; "WTM (white men) decoration & boma," where you've developed handcrafted objects; and now the semi-virtual company "Sophie Etulips Xylang Co." Could you talk a bit about each of these identities? Also, I'm curious about what has motivated you to multiply identities in such a way and what effects it has had. The current project, in particular, involves your latest identity, which led you to create a reception area. What led to the idea behind this company? What are you ultimately hoping to accomplish through it?
pak: Over the past few years, I've developed different identities in my work. Among those multiple identities, "fldjf studio," which I've worked on since 2014, has played an important part. I've been fascinated by the surfaces in the world that reflect the sky. I conceived of an imaginary studio that explores the ways to "possess" the sky through the reflective surfaces. Since my time in art school, I've created digital images to document the sky. After graduating, I got to stroll around the city center more often, focusing on all the reflections of the sky and sun(s) from high-rise buildings. That led to the idea of the "company" behind all these reflections—there must be some business occupying these buildings, actively making images of the sky! Since then, the studio's work has been about filming, editing, and advertising an imaginary company, in the belief that it is "exhibiting" the sky in building windows as its primary business. The studio, as a subcontractor of the company, employs the kind of language you might find in an ad agency or interior design company. The process of recording the sky reflected in windows proceeded into the surfaces of buildings. I was taking photographs to capture the materials in the lobbies and on the building exteriors, and I wanted to install printed versions of the sky in variable forms or to present them as random gestures. I considered these acts as a kind of "exchange" with the company. Or it was more of a crush—the studio had a unilateral relationship with the company that is yet to be identified. From there, the desire to call this company by its name and get to imagine it with more detail grew. The company I envisioned when I gave it the name "Sophie Etulips Xylang Co.," was a business that mourns itself, where the owners are the images and women that are substituted, consumed, and sacrificed. That's what I wanted to do through the company: to grieve for the marginalized.
With fldjf studio, I was mostly making images or by-products—things that didn't have much "substance." For this reason, studio's work had to rely heavily on the digital environment or the preexisting material conditions. Of course, there were physical/material aspects in the project, from simple sketches to drawings and objects. However, I couldn't refer to them as sculptures or paintings as I felt they couldn't stand on their own. I would rarely present them as my work. They lacked distinct forms and structures, so I would consider them in terms of "decorations," all the while hoping for things considered "ornamental" or "secondary" to be understood under a different light. Following this trail of thought, I came up with "WTM (white men) decoration & boma" as a new strain of artistic identity.
After my solo exhibition in 2017, I stayed in New York briefly. I would often encounter white men during this period. There was a strong impulse in me to refer to them as "vases," which led me to a series of drawings. This is how I came up with another artistic identity of mine—WTM (white men) decoration & boma—and a solo show Beige Men Vase & Smoking Free (2020, CAVA LIFE, Seoul). WTM decoration & boma was a way to gradually approach simple materials, which have yet to play a significant role in my past works. It was also a way for me to work with decorations, embracing its secondary nature yet exploring it as an artwork in its own right. Working with clay, jewelry, drawing, color, and scent, I was able to grapple with a synesthetic practice where linguistic filters have yet to come into effect. In this way, I was able to face my love-and-hate relationship with ocularcentrism productively. For me, the "material" used to be overwhelming, but decorations as secondary materials were not as threatening. I have also let go of my defensiveness, which used to make me push materials away as mere by-products.
Yu: The performance is also an integral part of the project. For some years, you would engage in random acts—or "gestures," as you call them—in the lobbies of high-rise buildings. But instead of those kinds of guerrilla actions, this performance piece had you taking on the role of a director, staging work in collaboration with different people. How do you view this shift?
pak: Over the course of my guerrilla gesture performances in building lobbies, I've often encountered security and cleaning staff and guides. People with a physical relationship to the building, people who look after and observe and feel the building. Sometimes, they've been the ones stopping me, and sometimes they've covertly helped with my work. To me, they were the people with authority over the building, and it was inevitable that they would appear in the work. The staff members, who used to be only indirectly involved in my work, take on significant roles this time around. During the preparations, I met them in person to explain the project, talk about its meaning, and ask them to play a role.
The title of the performance is "Opera: Sky Blue Canon Infinitus" The sky is a real thing, but for me, it is also an impression and an image. The sky is an untouchable natural phenomenon and an enormous presence one cannot simply overlook. Yet I also often get a sense of the sky here on the earth. Whenever you see something in the color of the sky—however great or small it is—you get a sense of déjà vu. I wanted to briefly present the sky, an obsession of mine, mediated through certain experiences in the robust setting that is Leeum Museum of Art. That's why I presented the project with sky blue as a unifying color.
As in my other work, the performance has an open structure rather than a strictly planned one; it's presented spontaneously, in an incomplete state. I wanted it to be closer to a rehearsal than the actual performance. There are scenes that are unplanned, where the performers are playing around, looking at their cell phones, and I'm stepping in to give them directions. This is how I create a concentrated situation where the "material elements" I envision—the perceptions that are ordinarily just consumed or replaced—are temporarily and unexpectedly presented in the given space. I wanted to experience a moment where the actual things that fill the lobby, like the marble and pillars, become momentarily negated or meaningless, along with the rules and operative systems.
There was something inevitable about the decision to transition from performances where I was myself the performer into ones that feature performers. This piece wasn't just based on my own drives. The times and spaces I show in this work represent entirely different contexts, so the decision to step back and let other performers take the stage was a natural one.
Yu: You've written a script as a mechanism for integrating the exhibition and performances as a whole. The motif appears to be the process of conceiving and making the exhibition, together with the different people involved in it. What was the role of the script in this project? Considering how there were artistic identities that gained a more concrete aspect through a sort of synopsis—such as "Rebecca လက်"—there's a sense of you trying to create a kind of event—be it in actuality or imagination—rather than simply producing a series of individual works.
pak: Scriptwriting has been an artistic approach I've used since 2010. In the beginning, I was quite interested in stage settings. The reason I was so interested had to do with the "fakeness" of the stage. Of course, films and paintings are effective means of creating illusions, but the stage seemed especially fake. With the physical structure of the stage in human scale before my eyes, the stage seemed to resemble all the different "fake" things that I was also fascinated by at the time, such as plastic earrings, fake flowers, different artificial things, angel sculptures I found at the dollar store, or star-shaped stickers. In that sense, the stage and script were like gestures or semblance, where it was as though I already possessed certain things that did not even exist. When I presented the objects as part of the installation work, I didn't really have the desire to document them. I think it came out of certain ethical considerations and a kind of self-deprecating attitude. I didn't see photography as a medium where I could capture the installation process, and I also felt like capturing and recording things might be a sort of abuse. So, I thought about different ways of documentation, and the script was what I came up with. Through the script, I constructed a world by writing down what I would like to happen, what had actually happened, and what seemed to have happened. Then I photographed unexpected events that occurred or external events that I deliberately brought about. There were a multitude of out-of-control happenings that were captured in the photographs. I also thought about a certain permanence that arose in the process where those things became sealed into script form.
The script and Accidents that are covered in this book are documentation of a sort. Looking back on them, I think I was unconsciously aware that the objects in my work couldn't stand on their own. They were so minor that I wanted to push past them, but I also sensed a kind of permanence and beauty. Those ambivalent feelings were the first things that came to mind.
Yu: A brief teaser uploaded to the Leeum Museum of Art's social media page created quite a stir. It resulted in over three hundred comments from people raising questions about your practice and sharing their thoughts about art in general. It was the kind of commotion that might have startled any artist. What did you think about it? There were a lot of comments about your appearance, and some of them blatantly questioned your eligibility as an artist to present her works at Leeum. From a curator's standpoint, it offered me insights into the general public's idea of what an artist should be like and the kind of art that suits this institution. But I also sensed how it could have been a rite of passage that required you to occupy the museum lobby.
pak: One of the commenters in that feed said what I was doing "seemed symptomatic," and I really appreciated that. It was an experience where I could reflect on a lot of different things. In a sense, it felt like a déjà vu—I often come across unsolicited questions with a misogynistic undertone. I was only doing very simple actions in the teaser. The gesture alludes to central concepts in my work, but if you just watch the video, it doesn't add up to a grand work of art. Besides the confusion the teaser might have caused, my practice has often been misunderstood, especially early on. I was able to see what sort of misunderstandings it is still generating and what kind of ideas the work provokes.
Yu: During the four-month period, which is relatively long in Seoul, there were some incidents where viewers would touch the work, and a few parts of it ended up suffering damage. Obviously, viewers were told that this was artwork and they were not to touch it, but there were still quite a lot of incidents of damage. Part of that may have had something to do with the original purpose of the ROOM where visitors can come and go with relative ease, and part of it may have had to do with the nature of the work, which is not strictly separated from its environment. As far as I know, it isn't so rare for elements of your artwork or small items to have been stolen or damaged. I remember that you didn't seem greatly concerned by it. Perhaps this was a part of your deliberate choice to have artwork that can be experienced more closely and touched rather than creating works that are valuable in the market, in which case they need to be protected like property. I'm curious what your thoughts were when you were alerted about problems with the work's condition throughout the exhibition period.
pak: I didn't think much of it. Accidents happen. I've come to grow attached to the works that experience them. I'm not at all surprised. In a way, I already know why things like this happen, and it's a conceptual aspect that I'd like to engage with more in the future. This time around, I decided to frame these sporadic moments by coming up with a new series of works—Accidents.
Yu: Apart from some of the paintings and drawings, it seems as though it would be challenging to exhibit or collect your work separately from its original context. Once the exhibition is over, it's like everything evaporates—it all goes away as if they were never there. Do you feel any desire to somehow hold on or preserve them? On the other hand, there do seem to be traces and sparkles that are always present in the places you've worked on. At YPC SPACE, where I invited you to do a solo show last year, some of the pigment and sparkles that you spread out during the exhibition were still being discovered for months afterward. Over a year later, we still come across them sometimes. At this point, we simply embraced the fact that we would "continue to live with Boma forever." I look forward to seeing how long the reverberations of this exhibition continue after it has been taken down. I'm curious what your thoughts are on the fleeting and permanent and on continuing to create things as an artist whose work is difficult to sell or collect.
pak: So far, I haven't had that much of a desire to preserve anything. It's not that I don't want to leave anything behind—I just place more significance on the traces and the afterimages that survive in people's memories. If my work survives, it will be like a mental image of some old ride in an amusement park. But it does pain me to see it being taken down. It's not just artwork—I feel the same way about things I've shared some parts of me with.
I sometimes think about how I might sell art that's difficult to collect. This is an intriguing challenge for me. I'd like to propose some new, feasible approaches to collecting. I want to experiment in a conceptual sense, and I also want to provide that as a kind of service or product at some point.
Yu: What are your plans for the near future? Are there any projects in the preparation? Or is there anything you'd like to achieve as an artist in the long run?
pak: I'm preparing for a performance where I project images on buildings' façade in tandem with my solo exhibition Baby at Project Space Sarubia, which opened on Dec 1, 2023. I sent out official documents requesting permission to do so. I'm in contact with the downtown district office. Unlike before, I find this process fascinating, so I might keep trying to communicate with the office even if I fail this time.
Not long ago, I had a moment of clarity about what I wanted to do as an artist: I want to give the impression that there's nothing in the gallery space. These days, I have a lot of ideas about the work I'd like to do, and they all seem to lead me to minimalist approaches. Also, I'd like to continue my exploration with scent as an artistic medium.
Conversation: boma pak x Jiwon Yu
p. 126, Ritual of Matter, 2023, catalogue
Interviewer: Jiwon Yu, Curator, Leeum Museum of ArtExhibition Introduction