The Artist © Hyeree Ro

We met the artists participating in the Samsung Foundation of Culture’s Leeum Museum of Art exhibition 《Art Spectrum 2022》.
 
Artist Hyeree Ro has explored the weaving of the personal and the social through performances that combine objects made of various materials, bodily movement, and language. The work Falls that she presented in 《Art Spectrum 2022》 began from an experience when she traveled across the United States with her father, who had been living alone as an immigrant in Los Angeles, and did not visit Niagara Falls located near the national border. Through this work, the artist addresses three events: the financial crisis of 1997, the September 11 attacks of 2001, and the beginning of former U.S. President Donald Trump’s term in 2017. Thinking about things that descend violently like a waterfall, Ro discovers the value of solidarity that crosses the boundaries established by humans.

 
I’d like to first ask how Niagara Falls became the starting point of Falls.

When I was young, my father moved to Los Angeles alone, and we lived apart for about ten years. Later, in 2017, when he said he wanted to travel across the United States from Los Angeles to New York, the two of us set out on a trip together. At that time my father did not want to go to Niagara Falls, because the waterfall is located on the border between the United States and Canada. Meanwhile, 2017 was also the year former President Trump began his term, when strong immigration restriction policies were introduced and there were many cases of people referred to as undocumented immigrants being arrested by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). Thinking about this situation led me to make Falls.

 
I heard that Falls deals with three events: the 1997 financial crisis, the September 11 attacks of 2001, and the beginning of former President Trump’s term in 2017.

Each of the three events is embedded in the meaning of Falls in different ways. The title of the work refers to Niagara Falls, but it also suggests a situation in which something is falling or descending. In 1997 the exchange rate plunged, in 2001 buildings collapsed, and in 2017 the status of immigrants in the United States declined after the start of Trump’s presidency.

My own family history also connects to these events: our family immigrated together to the United States in 1998, but in early 2002 my father remained there while the rest of us returned to Korea. In the video Falls Interview, which plays in one corner of the museum, eight people speak about their memories related to these three events. While making this video, I realized that my family’s story was not purely personal.

 
How did you select the eight participants?

The criteria were clear: people who were born outside the United States and immigrated to the U.S. in the 1990s. As a result, most of them were born in the 1980s, and their nationalities vary—Korean, Japanese, Filipino, Mexican, and others. As immigrants living in the United States, they share similar emotional experiences.

 
I noticed that you used many different materials in this work.

I used a wide range of materials including wood, aluminum, ceramics, glass, iron, and stone. When I work, I tend to focus less on reproducing specific forms or approaching things symbolically, and more on the visual materiality created when different textures, shapes, and colors come together. In Falls, however, elements related to water and paper are also included. For instance, glass shaped like cascading water, paper inspired by the term “undocumented,” which is used to describe immigrants without official papers, and a type of wood called “waterfall bubinga.”

 
Looking at your Instagram, I saw photos gathered under the title “THINGS I PICK UP.” Do you often draw inspiration from everyday objects?

When I discover objects that create interesting combinations, I tend to photograph them. Rather than serving as direct references, inspirations from many such photos seem to naturally seep into my work. They accumulate in my mind like data and eventually reappear in other forms.

 
Falls is composed of multiple objects. I imagine you also thought carefully about the arrangement of the objects and the exhibition space.

Because it is an installation rather than a sculpture, I thought a lot about the space itself. When working on Falls, I also considered viewpoints from above rather than only at eye level. I hoped that when viewers came down the museum escalator and looked at the work, the lines and planes would come together to appear like a kind of landscape. I arranged the objects while imagining images such as maps or graphs that condense events occurring in reality.


노혜리, 〈폴즈〉, 2022 © 노혜리

You also presented a performance through Falls.

My work feels complete only when a performer appears. I put a lot of effort into maintaining an appropriate balance so that none of the elements—objects, body, or narration—stands out too much. The narration is also composed by listing fragmented words or mixing two or more languages.

 
Was there a particular reason you began working with performance?

It has to do with the fact that the whole cannot remain fully in memory. My performances contain stories I want to speak about but do not wish to reveal too clearly. Those stories are delivered to the audience who gather at the museum at the same time through the performance, and afterward they remain as different memories in each person’s mind. I hope that as the performance disperses among individuals, something might reach each of them.

 
Who is the person appearing with you in the performance of Falls?

It is Um Ji-eun, a colleague I studied with and one of the artists who participated with me several years ago in Art Muscle Training. Art Muscle Training was a project in which five artists gathered with no preparation and created and presented their own performances within one hour. We continued this for about a year. Because we had been sincere audiences for one another during that process, I chose Um Ji-eun as another performer. The decisive reason, however, was that her physique is similar to mine.

 
Why did you need a performer with a similar physique?

In the performance of Falls, Um Ji-eun recites objective figures such as the list of companies that went bankrupt in 1997, the weather on September 11, 2001, and statistics on undocumented migrants detained in 2017. The performance unfolds as if the macro history she presents intersects with my personal or family history. For this reason, we prepared this performance while calling each other “twins.” Because it is not a solo performance, we went to the museum almost as if going to work and adjusted many things on site.

 
When composing movements for a performance, what do you focus on most?

The interaction between objects and movement is the most important. The details are similar to composing a sculptural form. Just as when considering combinations of objects, I create moments when the speed or scale of movements either correspond or contrast with one another. For example, when Um Ji-eun walks slowly, I move very quickly, and when I fold paper, Um Ji-eun unfolds it as if reading letters.

 
Instead of presenting a live performance, you could record it on video and show that. Why is it important for the audience to experience the performance directly?

There is a particular energy created by the audience concentrating on the performance and by the physical space they form. I enjoy the moment when audience members approach me after the performance and share their impressions. Even though performances are often recorded on video for various practical reasons, I always struggle with whether to make them public.

As I mentioned earlier, I do not expect everything that constitutes the performance to be fully understood, so I would prefer that viewers not pause or rewind the video. That is why, even when I produce performance recordings, I prefer to play them in a corner of the museum as in this exhibition. In the past I have also created separate videos related to the performance or played the narration only as audio. I intend to continue thinking about how performances are recorded.

 
As in the story addressed in Falls, why do you think it is important to discover overlaps between personal life and social events?

When one person experiences an event, it reveals that among the many people in society there are others who undergo similar experiences. By speaking about how individual experiences are not singular occurrences, I begin to think about why those experiences happen—whether they may be influenced by social systems or structures. While focusing on immigration to the United States through Falls, I was reminded of undocumented immigrants living in Korea.

Because I was born in the Republic of Korea, have Korean ancestry, and speak Korean, there are clearly things I enjoy in this country without inconvenience. More broadly, humans form very narrow societies based on nationality, race, gender, education, and political inclination. Because of the boundaries established by humans, there may be aspects we fail to consider. Discovering the overlap between personal life and social events allows us to gain a certain perspective, and I believe it is also connected to the question of solidarity.

 
What kind of power does art have in telling such stories?

Art may not be very efficient in drawing attention to an issue or providing direct help. Nevertheless, if there is a power that art possesses, I think it lies in “looking attentively.” Art can offer the experience of noticing that one side of the wood used in a work is rough while the other side has been oiled. As we accumulate experiences like this, we may become better at perceiving the subtle differences in the nuances of what the beings around us say and do. If such observation—requiring respect and consideration—becomes the foundation, might society become a little better? I believe it can.

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