Installation view of 《HAPPY TIME IS GOOD》 (Hapjungjigu, 2021) ©Hapjungjigu

Find the Hidden Exhibition Space

I visited Hapjungjigu to see Yeoreum Jeong’s solo exhibition. Unable to find where the entrance was, I lingered around the area for about five minutes before realizing that the exhibition had begun behind the door of a basement office. Upon entering the empty office, I found a guestbook placed on top of an old filing cabinet, and only after pulling aside a curtain near the door was I able to enter the exhibition space itself. I had never encountered an exhibition venue like this before. The fact that the entrance was located inside an office, and that it was difficult to find, felt entirely new.

The exhibition space was divided between the first floor and the basement, which were not connected and had to be accessed through separate doors. There were no guards or staff members present, creating the feeling of discovering a secret space. At first, this felt simply inconvenient, but as I continued viewing the exhibition, I came to feel that the space was well aligned with the exhibition’s theme. The process of searching for the entrance itself became part of the experience of viewing the exhibition.
 


Memories of Specters: The Long Hole

Yeoreum Jeong’s exhibition 《HAPPY TIME IS GOOD》 addresses U.S. military bases located on the Korean Peninsula. In the basement, the video work The Long Hole is screened, while on the first floor Graeae: A Stationed Idea is shown. This review focuses primarily on The Long Hole. According to curator Jinshil Lee’s text, the exhibition takes as its theme “the concealment and disguise of place, and the memories embedded there.” Through this exhibition, the artist reveals hidden truths and spectral memories surrounding U.S. military bases in Yongsan and Wonju.

The work The Long Hole, viewed in the basement, follows a detective and an AI as they investigate “Camp Long,” a former U.S. military base in Wonju. The base was returned to the city of Wonju after 69 years as of last year. The artist visited “CAMP 2020,” an event celebrating the return of Camp Long, and this experience became the starting point for the work.

The people who once lived there lost their homes due to the construction of Camp Long, yet they reportedly sustained their livelihoods by working as “houseboys” at the PX. In this sense, the U.S. military base functioned as a paradoxical space—one that took away livelihoods while simultaneously enabling survival.

Returning to The Long Hole, the camera moves from the detective’s perspective, allowing viewers to follow her gaze into ATMs, which once served as sites for information exchange. As the camera enters the building and illuminates the dark interior, viewers may feel a chill. Inside the building, reminiscent of a horror film, there is no one present, yet blood splatters can be seen on the walls.


 
Disconnection from Another Earth, Forgetting

As the video continues to provoke curiosity, it points with a blue line to a specific spot on an empty wall. The rectangular marker soon begins to recognize the faces of people in black-and-white photographs. This suggests that although the space now appears empty, those people once existed there and their memories remain. The artist narrates forgotten or previously unknown truths through a unique setting she calls “synchronization with another Earth.”

The premise of this setting is that somewhere in the universe exists another planet identical to Earth, synchronized to replicate the current state of our world. However, synchronization sometimes fails, and the cause of this failure is human “forgetting.” When no one remembers or seeks out a particular event, the connection between the two Earths is severed.

This narrative raises pressing questions for our present time. The unresolved grievances of those who died unjustly, nameless deaths, may all be included within such forgetting. If memories of the past are erased, humanity on the other Earth would inevitably repeat the same outcomes. Through this setting, the artist urges viewers not to forget, insisting that these truths must not disappear into oblivion.

Yeoreum Jeong, The Long Hole, 2021, Single-channel video, HD, color, stereo, 36min. ©Yeoreum Jeong

Memories Blurred Within Afterimages

The word “Isidora” is frequently mentioned throughout the video. Isidora is a fictional city that appears in Italo Calvino’s novel Invisible Cities. In the book, Isidora is a city one reaches only in old age, and its image closely resembles the U.S. military base that eventually returned to Korean hands after the passage of time. In the video, lines such as “We have already passed through Isidora,” and “After passing Isidora and looking back, Isidora had changed,” appear. Through these lines, it becomes clear that Isidora refers to the military base.

In the video, Isidora is represented by a recurring “red rectangle” within cold-toned imagery. The locations of U.S. military bases are shown through GPS screens, and the points that were previously invisible to others are emphasized using the red rectangle. The surrounding background of the military base is replaced with cold hues and blurred, leaving only the red rectangle visible. This visual strategy can be interpreted through the artist’s concept of the “afterimage.”

The artist describes afterimages as “karma,” meaning the accumulated consequences of human actions, explaining that when one place exists strongly, another weakens. This reasoning explains why the background in the video is blurred. When viewed retrospectively, the continuation of humanity will be remembered like an afterimage, and among the blurred remnants within that afterimage will be U.S. military bases. Thus, the artist paradoxically emphasizes the site of the military base by marking it with a red rectangle.


 
Searching for What Has Been Blurred by Forgetting and Afterimages

According to the curator’s text, “the only data point that could be found on Google Maps regarding Camp Long in Wonju—the ‘Camp Long ATM’—was a stain breaking through the screen, revealing the reality of a financial capitalism network hidden behind a military exterior.” The artist unfolds and visualizes this narrative through the medium of video.

Because the work conveys truth in fragments, like shards of memory, it takes time to grasp the work in its entirety. There are many dense and abstract expressions, and in particular, the connection between Isidora and the site of Gwanghwamun feels underexplained. While the choice of a U.S. military base as a subject is meaningful, one may also wish that the voices and lives of marginalized people had been included more fully.

Nevertheless, the work compellingly presents the process of searching for blurred fragments within forgetting and afterimages through the video medium. Much like the effort required to find the exhibition entrance itself, the work encourages viewers to engage in active reflection. In this respect, the exhibition holds significant value.

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