[SEOUL] They, them, and them: Group show

CHOI&CHOI Gallery presents ‘they, them, and them’, on view from the 4^th of  September through the 19^th of  October. The exhibition brings together works that delve into the lives of those who find themselves in marginalized positions. Through intertwined narratives, the works form a distinctive sense of solidarity, drawing attention to the pervasive yet frequently overlooked realities of minority experiences. The exhibition strives to shed light on how society treats individuals who exist outside its conventional norms.

 

As we enter the gallery, we are greeted by glowing LED letters. Visible through the ground floor windows, the letters form the phrase ‘I Am Not One’ (나는 하나가 아니다, 2018). The work by Inhwan Oh (1965-) echoes the sentiments of those who can easily be cast aside as outsiders at any moment. These individuals, labeled as marginalized, find their own solidarity under this label. The single line of text encapsulates the complex, shifting nature of identity, inviting viewers to explore lives that often go unnoticed.

 

Next to Oh's work are powder-coated steel boxes by Seunghyuk Park (1992-). The boxes, taking different forms but sharing the same name, or different names but the same shape, further the discussion initiated by Oh. The sculptures question whether being grouped under a broad label leads to the erasure of individual identities, disregarding them for the sake of unity. The pieces’ simplified and exaggerated forms allude to a collective that absorbs individuals—those who had previously been ostracized for their differences. They evoke the experience of minorities, whose differences led to exclusion and, subsequently, assimilation.

 

Before ascending the stairs, we encounter Salome: A Blue Beard (2012) by Yongseok Oh(1974-). The work references Salome, the biblical villainess known for presenting the severed head of John the Baptist on a platter. In this piece, the pale, blue-tinted faces of men are those of other imagined victims of Salome. They symbolize a religious mechanism that creates imaginary victims and critiques power structures that exclude and stigmatize others to preserve their dominance and cohesion. The work highlights the privileged class that exists in opposition to minority identities.

 

 

 

Upon climbing the stairs, viewers are confronted with Yongseok Oh's Angles of Pornography (2007). This series, which borrows scenes from 1980s and 90s hardcore pornography, is intertwined with the shadow of an era when HIV/AIDS claimed the lives of countless friends and loved ones. Amid fear and loss, the bonds within these communities were strengthened, driving them to develop language and tools of resistance against hate and exclusion. The series captures the resilience of those who, despite facing the terror of infection and death, remained true to their desires and chose unity.

 

Nahwan Jeon’s(1984-2021) cyclops are muscular figures in sleeveless shirts. . One phenomenon born of the HIV/AIDS crisis was an obsession with healthy, macho appearances. This desire for an ideal physique, which leads members of the community to resemble one another, remains prevalent today. Jeon humorously alludes to this trend by using stencil-based techniques to create copies of the burly archetype (Friends, 2016). The cyclops depicted in his work are confronted by literal mountains of discrimination, yet they crush these obstacles beneath their arses, illustrating the unique tongue-in-cheek humour of marginalized groups who mock their oppressors and persist with levity in the face of prejudice.

 

After witnessing their father's death, Cha Yeonså (1997-) began exploring the deaths of individuals documented in a forensic textbook. Within a community that has had to say goodbye to an endless procession of its members, individual deaths are felt as the death of "us," making death a crucial concept in discussing how these members relate to one another. The artist’s new series borrows excerpts from the forensic textbook that detail deaths with mentions of homosexuality, investigating the deaths within minority communities and the solidarity found therein.

 

As a trans-masculine artist, Sung Jaeyun (1999-) explores the notion of masculinity through photography. A self-portrait of the artist standing by the sea, his chest bound with tape, serves as his "coming out" to the audience, revealing the complexities of his identity and his relationship with his own body. Coming out is not a one-time act; it is an ongoing process of facing uncomfortable relationships where others may disclose your identity without your consent. Sung’s self-portraits embody the narrative of those who brave revealing their authentic selves in their ongoing fight.

 

Next to Sung’s photographs, lee sima's Bidangamok (Silk Prison, 2023) is displayed on screens. The 2-channel video portrays through performance the conflicts that continually arise—within marginalized groups, between them and society at large, or even within themselves. The movements are those of "ghosts who yearn for normalcy within a sea of abnormality, unable to belong anywhere, driven only by their unquenchable desires." In the rigid structure of "silk," unplanned, spontaneous movements persist, revealing the cries of those who fight to normalize their abnormal normality.

 

In Woosung Lee's (1983-) work Twinkle, Twinkle (2016), the stars in the night sky shine brightly. Before today’s increased visibility and acceptance in mainstream society through media exposure, there were pioneers who cautiously gathered at night for decades. Evading censorship and crackdowns, they came together under the night sky unfamiliar to the rest of the city. The stars in Lee's work pay tribute to those who paved the way with their hushed tones and careful glances in the darkness.

 

 

Act 3: I Am Here

 

In Leehaiminsun's (1977-) In Front of a Wall (2023), a banner bearing the phrase "I am here" flutters in the wind, constructed by assembling bits of torn posters. Serving as a conclusion to the exhibition, the work elevates and gives voice to the existence of a weak and vulnerable individual. The phrase is a mirror reflecting the viewers who gaze upon it, a mirror reflecting the exhibition and the works within it, and a declaration that bridges us all

 

 

 

 

curated by

Jungsik Lee 

Erik Kim

 

poster design by

Jumyeong Lee

  

*Lee Jung-sik is a visual artist based in Seoul. Since 2023, he has been directing the exhibition space ‘10 to the n Power’ in Yeonhui-dong and recently curated the exhibition ‘House on Fire’ at Esther Schipper Gallery Seoul in May.*