In response to the question, “How many mirrors are there in your home?”, many people would likely begin counting in a practical way—“the bathroom mirror, the mirror by the entrance,” and so on. However, those with an imagination and insight beyond the ordinary might attempt a broader kind of reckoning. One might ask oneself, “Wait—do I have a mirror in my study as well?” and then answer, “Come to think of it, one of my most cherished books is a collection of Emily Dickinson’s poems. Each time I read Dickinson, I find myself gazing inward at myself—could this not also be considered a mirror?” From there, one might begin to recount the other mirrors lining the bookshelves of the study.

In this sense, we do not regard as mirrors only objects that physically reflect visible light. Rather, those facets of self-identity that cannot be seen through such objects often demand more particular mirrors for their observation and understanding. What is intriguing is that, in many cases, we do not even realize that these objects are mirrors until we have seen or experienced them.

A Mark Rothko exhibition, a performance by Sumi Jo, a film by Agnès Varda—do we not rediscover ourselves while wiping away tears as we leave the exhibition hall, concert venue, or cinema, rather than when we enter, unaware of any need for a handkerchief? Those who use water-based cosmetics may find themselves fixing their makeup in the powder room mirror after such an experience. Some mirrors ruin one’s makeup; others restore it. Some mirrors show our expressions; others create them.

If it is possible to acknowledge, in this way, the existence of a “mirror function” among the many roles of art, then might artworks centered on self-reflection or offering special inspiration toward it—such as those by Sangwon Kwak and Shinyoung Park—be said to function like concave mirrors? Just as a concave mirror is needed when one wishes to see part of one’s face more closely because it produces a magnified image through distortion, there may be moments when a similarly magnifying distortion of self-reflection is required in order to observe a part of oneself more closely or anew—not with the eyes on one’s face, but with another kind of eye.

Viewers who discern a shared denominator of “the self in an unfamiliar environment” while engaging with the works of Kwak and Park may find themselves experiencing an expansion and distortion of their own identity. In unfamiliar surroundings, the self—undergoing unfamiliar experiences—comes into contrast not with the environment itself, but with the people or other familiar presences within it. Through this contrast, one’s sense of identity may feel enlarged and distorted, enabling a more detailed and renewed perception of oneself.

More concretely, the works of both artists reveal how their artistic selves are conceived within environments far removed from their everyday lives—lives shaped by the geographical conditions of the city and the cultural characteristics of South Korea. A difference emerges, however, in the degree of directness with which the self appears: in formal terms, Park’s self does not surface explicitly in her works, whereas Kwak’s self may be perceived as more directly present across several of his pieces.

Yet Park’s works convey an impression akin to the appearance of a figure encountered in a dream—one formed by the collision and fusion of unfamiliar experiences in unfamiliar environments with the unfamiliar emotions they generate. This dialectic of experience and feeling suggests a journey toward a renewed understanding of the self before and after such encounters. Kwak’s works likewise offer the possibility of rediscovering oneself through the expression of a self conceived within unfamiliar environments.

Even if it is difficult to fully know ourselves, we remain more familiar to ourselves than anything else; when we encounter an entirely unfamiliar environment, this contrast intensifies our sense of familiarity with ourselves, allowing us both to reaffirm our identity and to discover new versions of ourselves through interaction with new environments. In this sense, both artists may be seen as practicing, in their respective ways, a journey toward a more complete understanding of the self.

Going further, could it be said that the artistic trajectories of these two artists intersect in the shared human conditions that everyone dreams, that anyone placed in an unfamiliar environment may unconsciously realize that the most familiar presence available is oneself, and that through such realization one may affirm one’s own existence? Might we, through their works, identify a common ground shared by all of us and engage in collective reflection?

Beginning with the labor of affirming one’s personal identity and extending toward the confirmation and ideal development of a universal identity, the act of viewing the works of these two artists—though perhaps more unfamiliar than looking into a physical mirror—may nonetheless become an experience through which we honestly reflect upon our present and aspire toward a tomorrow that can shine as brilliantly as great art.


Text by Jaewoo Ahn (Independent Curator)

References

• 《거울보다 낯선 (Far in My Mirror)》