This work is an installation for the exhibition Brood Parasitism at Nanji exhibition hall.
In zoology, brood parasitism is a strategy practiced by some species of birds, like cuckoos, who lay their eggs in the nest of another bird and trick the host bird into raising the baby chick for them. In Brood Parasitism, each of five artists working in different media, is both the host bird and the parasite bird. They deliberately adopt, borrow, recycle or sample aspects of pre-existing art works by the other artists, and recontextualise them in their work. In this way, the exhibition focuses on articulating all semantic, associative and representational influences of artists on each other within a single art work.
I adapted the idea of Kyung Ryul Park, who raises a fundamental question about how images are looked at by relocating images and objects. Originally in Lost Corner (2018), a specific theme was determined and the work was arranged according to the exhibition venue’s architectural characteristics and the expected audience flow in order to highlight the particular theme. However, at Nanji, the original work will be re-presented without the original context or theme: elements will be removed – and added spontaneously – to open up a space to find something that was unnoticed before. This work is an experiment to see if I can liberate myself from my obsession with having a theme in my art practice.
Lost Corner is the title of a solo exhibition that consists of copperplateprints, video and light installations. The works are intended to complement one another and are situated on two levels: ground floor and underground. On the ground floor, the prints show architectural images of Jungangcheong, a former site of Japanese colonial administration. On the lower floor, a light rotates and reflects onto pleated curtains, while in the video Chung places and moves stones one by one in order to make a structure. The recording which accompanies the video features a newsreader’s voice which relates part of the history of the building. As the official archive and the artist’s actions are incongruent, an aporia appears between personal memory and official past. Personal memory conflicts with official memory, which prevents a sense of closure from being reached. *Click here to go to Lost Corner 2
Lost Corner is the title of a solo exhibition that consists of copperplate prints, video and light installations. The works are intended to complement one another and are situated on two levels: ground floor and underground. On the ground floor, the prints show architectural images of Jungangcheong, a former site of Japanese colonial administration. On the lower floor, a light rotates and reflects onto pleated curtains, while in the video Chung places and moves stones one by one in order to make a structure. The recording which accompanies the video features a news reader’s voice which relates part of the history of the building. As the official archive and the artist’s actions are incongruent, an aporia appears between personal memory and official past. Personal memory conflicts with official memory, which prevents a sense of closure from being reached.
This work started with my childhood memory of Jungangcheong (the former National Museum of Korea and site of Japanese colonial administration) which was demolished in 1995. It was both a physical and aesthetic experience as I walked around the interior of the building with its marvelous floor and curved staircase. In Retrace, I recall this past experience and recreate the now demolished building via copperplate prints of Jungang Hall, which was the center of the Jungangcheong. The copperplate prints show not only interior views of Jungang Hall, but also retrace the origin of the building from European colonial architecture models. Meanwhile, the list of books that I borrowed from my university library is shown on the surface of the outer window of the cube, which means the prints can be seen in conjunction with the list of books through the window. Just as Japan copied the style of colonial architecture from European colonial powers, I tried to trace a similar influence in my own work and juxtapose both in one space. This work shows the process of retracing the origin of my aesthetic sense, and suggests the emergence of a new perspective on my work.
A sculpture is installed in the exhibition site, consisting of metal stands, ropes and balls. Visitors are invited to offer their own titles for the work. With no single title for the work the meaning of the work is not fixed and is open to interpretation by the public. In this way, the work examines how meaning is constructed and co-constructed, and how a particular title might function as a cue for a specific interpretation of a work, when in reality any number of different titles could be chosen to act as cues for different interpretations.
There are two stands and one switch on a desk which controls the brightness of both lights. If someone touches the switch, it affects the brightness of the other light as well. The outcome of the work is undetermined – it may cause conflict, initiate a new encounter, or act as a pretext for negotiation. No definite outcome can be anticipated but will result from a process of co-construction.
St. Saviour’s Emergency Private Shelter Single Channel Video 3’10”, Customized fence, handcrafted cement blocks, 2012
The work consists of a short video and two installed pieces, one inside and one outside the church, which demarcate the entrance and the exit to the emergency shelter respectively. Existing architectural features of the church space were used to create the illusion that the crypt of the church was an emergency shelter. The video infomercial is promotional and parodic in tone as it focuses on the tremendous benefits and the sense of luxurious exclusivity associated with living under the ground.Since in fact the Aberdeen Park Maintenance Company is registered at the same address, in order to provide exclusive services to a private residents’ committee, the artist offers an exclusive, state-of-the-art security service to committee members.
The work, therefore, is not only a spatial and architectural response to the Florence Trust site, but also alludes to the current and former roles of St. Saviour’s as a church, an art institution and as a service provider. The work addresses themes of exclusivity, salvation, sanctuary and false promises, aiming to combine these elements in an institutional critique.
This was shown at the Old Police Station (the former Deptford Police Station, London). Although the old Edwardian building itself is a grade 2 listed English heritage site, only the four individual cell spaces show any apparent evidence of their original function as the police station. Without any information about the site, the cells are hard to discover and rather difficult to access because of their hidden location and lack of public awareness about the site. The abandoned cell spaces might be defined as an example of urban ruins or, in Solnit’s vocabulary, the unconscious city. The project, thus, explores a way of ‘situating’ an artistic event in the location to arouse the unconsciousness of the cell space.
In the project, Chung raises the question of how the cell space might act as a commemorative or even monumental space where various events have taken place and been forgotten. Musil points out the contradictory features of monuments: conspicuously inconspicuous, erected for public attention while eluding popular perception. Chung considers the historical monument of the cell space as a dead site sleeping in the sea of oblivion.
In <Century>, Chung made hundreds of rectangular shaped cement tablets and piled them up from the floor of the prison cell. Each cement tablet, like an opening plaque for a building, functions as a commemorative unit of the events in the cell, which has made its own history both as a real prison and as a venue for cultural events. Even though in 2012 the site celebrated its one hundred year anniversary, the site escapes public attention. Chung’s repetitive and continuous actions of making and accumulating tablets without any inscription invites curiosity about the tomb-like space. The number of tablets placed in the cell allude to accumulating layers of past time. The single upright tablet lit by vague light implies the present situation and the current artistic action. Among the tablets inside the cell, the upright tablet plays a role as an intriguing clue for the public to recognize the cell as a monumental space in the local community.
This work is based on my own experience when I attempted to adapt myself to a new environment during a residency program in 2011. Undergoing psychological transitions as a result of processes of conforming, negotiating, and avoiding were inevitable in adapting to a new environment and working side by side with other artists. In the new studio, which used to be a former anglican church, I felt an unknown oppressive burden and tried to get rid of that feeling by making cement blocks. As the cement blocks piled up, the ground level became higher and higher and the desk kept moving from one location to another. This continuous process not only seemed to be an unwitnessed performance, but alludes to processes of change, labour, work, handcraft and mass production.
Legend has it that words Nec Plus Ultra were inscribed on the Pillars of Hercules, warning sailors to ‘go no futher’. The work explores the obscure future of the site as the building was going to be demolished, with the building becoming a tomb and the pillars gravestones. An ornamental fence around the pillar suggests a futile attempt to preserve the building by transforming the pillar from a functional to an aesthetic object. The text connects us to Plymouth’s past of new world adventure and discovery, thereby collapsing notions of present, past and future into one another.