A dim space. Someone is sitting in front of a keyboard placed on the floor. Around them are branches, blades of grass, an electric fan, a water tank, small stones, and exotic instruments such as a singing bowl and kalimba. Before a small gathering of spectators, the performer quietly lights a candle, signaling the start of the performance, and places a small stone—holding the memory of the place—on a key. As the stone presses the key with its own weight, a sound emerges.

Around it, everyday fragments without functional purpose overlap with instruments, generating new resonances one by one. Depending on the carefully pressed keys, the sound of birds, the clash of wind chimes, the noise of traffic, the rustling of branches in the wind, and the soft flow of a stream fill the space, vibrating the air together with the electronic tones of a synthesizer. The fan turns, and a butterfly model—with a small light and motor attached—makes the air stir.

These sounds were collected during her journeys following sites of conflict, or from places where she met Rohingya refugees, as well as from moments of solidarity shared with colleagues. From the performance Stone, Light, Wave at Art Space Boan in 2021 to the opening and closing performances at 《We Are the Sea》, an exhibition commemorating the 10th anniversary of the Sewol Ferry disaster at Gyeonggi Museum of Art in 2024, each variation in collaborators and composition has always amplified the energy of what is considered “minor.” The audience resonates with a moment that no one can clearly define — one that belongs to their own lived experiences. With small lights, air, breaths, and the subtle vibrations they create.
 


The Power of Small Things: Light, Shadow, Stones, Movement

Oro Minkyung has consistently explored ways of seeing the world and of protecting herself and her companions within it. At the heart of her work are “small things”: light, shadow, air, and sound — essential for our existence, yet easily forgotten in their influence and power.

Right after graduating, she presented Hold on (2010), following the shape of light along roads and filling it in with chalk, tracing changes of light and shadow. The light naturally disappeared over time, yet the remaining marks revealed the inherent strength in the act of capturing a fleeting moment.

In Put the Moment into (2010), created in the Ahyeon-dong redevelopment area, she sought a way to remember disappearing spaces. She enclosed the landscapes reflected through the outer walls and windows of buildings slated for demolition into a box. Small holes were made where the light touched, and the light flowing through those tiny gaps made the images of the landscape appear — like a shadow play inside the box. These works laid the foundation for her practice: breathing life into things that vanish, and prompting us to look at them again.

With time, her interest shifted from “recording a fixed form” to “capturing the transformation itself.” In Each Heart, Listening (2010, Busan Open Space Bae), she transformed the ticking motion of a clock hand into sound, allowing us to sensorially perceive the subtle vibrations overlooked in everyday life. The work prefigures her later spatial and sonic sensibilities.

A Researcher of Particles at the End

Oro Minkyung calls her artistic practice “The Particle Laboratory at the End.” She observes and records forces and flows that exist between the Earth’s crust and the cosmos — those almost imperceptible to human senses. She describes herself as “a performer who creates environments,” who “plays with space while focusing on the movement of light and sound, and on the flow of passing time.” Her installations and performances weave together light, air, sound, and social phenomena — holding together a power we may have lost in cities: a force that grounds us, a resonance.

In Stone, Light, Wave (2021), she worked by “reading time while looking at silent rocks and light.” She listened, prayerfully, to the time embedded in rocks eroded by reflected light and flowing water, and to grains of sand gradually breaking down. Small LED lights throughout the exhibition flickered in response to the sounds she made. As sound and light merged, spectators experienced expanded perception through multiple senses.

This experimentation continued in 2024 with Sounds behind the Sound #2 — Song of the Withered Grass. The work especially considers sensory resonance with Deaf and hard-of-hearing audiences, for whom sharing sound within the audible frequency band is difficult. She asks whether the fading sound of withered grass can offer comfort to “us” — beings with diverse bodies — and suggests that such beings do not disappear but prepare for another life. The installation and performance thus embody not only the expansion of physical sensing but also the expansion of social sensibilities.

New Grains Formed by Facing Society

A major turning point in her practice came from encountering social events. In 2010, witnessing the redevelopment area in Ahyeon-dong led her to reflect on the meaning of vanishing space, and the same year, through her experience with the Hope Bus movement, she encountered new forms of solidarity. Later, through group practices such as “Valet Parking,” “Deadline News,” and collectives like “Small Light” and “The Center for Division Images,” she increasingly explored ways for art to directly connect with social realities.

“What kind of sound and heart are needed for art to become mourning and consolation?”

This question was explicitly addressed in Little Hearts, Strong Consolation (2023). Together with collaborators, she explored how to remember loss — the healing possibilities of sound and space, and ways to connect technology with humane grief. This performance was not merely music, but a communal experience bridging technology and humanity, memory and the future.

Remembering Division: White Light Beneath the Ground

Her 2024 work The White Lights of Each Other centers on what she has long contemplated — the sensory dimension of the national division. Inspired by the joint North–South archaeological excavation of Manwoldae in Kaesong, this project experimented with viewing the divided society from the perspective of the heart.

The exhibition space remains still and dark. When a visitor turns on the lamp to read a letter placed on a table, the space begins to move. Light shines on two symmetrical structures, mirrored pillars rotate to create two moons, birds flutter, and field recordings from conflict zones and everyday life unfold.

“This work begins from the remains and artifacts buried beneath Kaesong. What memories do we wish to bury today? What sounds do we hope to restore?”

She asks what we would want to leave behind if our own memories were to be buried in this land.

The work is driven by a central question: How can remembering the past become an act of dreaming about a future called “the present”? It points to the fragile possibilities of connection between things that vanish, things unseen, and things unheard.


 
Resonating with the Invisible

To tend to the complex emotions within diverse social relationships, Oro Minkyung continues to develop forms that are both more abstract and more delicate.

She says: “I think of the midday light that falls equally on everyone.”

A small stone presses a key. Disappearing sounds leave a trace. Vibrations we almost failed to sense fill a space. Between technology and society, nature and humans, past and future — she continues listening to the world, caring for small lights, stones, air, and sound.

References

• [칼럼] 작은 빛, 대기, 숨결을 돌보는
  [Column] Caring for Small Lights, Air, and Breaths