Won Seoungwon, Tomorrow-Dog Village, 2008 © Won Seoungwon

The artist, who used to roll around a cramped 8-square-meter room dreaming of living in a wide, open space, one day realized that her friends were having the same dream. She then decided to present twelve of her friends with the rooms they dreamed of. Of course, she did not possess extraordinary wealth, nor did she have the skills to build actual houses. But she did have the willingness to listen closely to her friends’ stories, a digital camera, a computer that—like the genie of Aladdin’s lamp—allowed her to cut and paste the photographs she collected through endless legwork, and above all, the endurance to sit in front of her computer all day, manipulating a tablet pen until her neck stiffened. —From the Dreamroom project

The exhibition 《Tomorrow》 begins with two lightboxes showing the “dream rooms” of Won Seoungwon and Lee Baekyung. By choosing lightboxes rather than conventional photographic prints, the two glowing dream rooms guide viewers into the world of Tomorrow, much like fireflies illuminating a dark forest path. Because Tomorrow shares similarities in technique and process with Dreamroom, it is easy to mistake it as simply another wish-fulfillment project following the previous one. However, Tomorrow is clearly more developed than the earlier work.

First, Tomorrow contains the artist’s unique perception of time. Her “tomorrow” is not a simple next day; it is a tomorrow in which the traces of yesterday accumulate and yesterday and today coexist. Another difference from the earlier work lies in the complex web of “relationships” that unfolds across the images. Episodes emerge within various relationships—from A Woman with Apple-Red Cheeks and a Man Who Loves Smelt Fishing, to A Husband Who Loves Bukhansan and a Wife Who Loves Seoraksan, to the artists of the Goyang Studio 3rd Residency who once lived like family. Rather than a flat photograph, the work resembles a pop-up picture book that continually reveals new spaces and times behind each scene.

Between the pages of this visual storybook, the artist inserts bits of her own narrative through small drawings. Although she had occasionally used modest drawings in prior exhibitions, this is the first time she has presented them as a major component of her work. Perhaps she had grown a bit weary of addressing only the stories of those around her, or perhaps, after spending so much time clicking away on digital tools, she longed for the tactile act of making something directly by hand. Most of all, however, it seems she wished to reveal her own emotions and inner stories through drawing, adding them to the narratives of her acquaintances.

Yet despite the curiosity these drawings evoke—enough to make viewers eagerly anticipate her next exhibition—there remains the slight regret that the show attempted to present perhaps too much all at once.

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