Installation view of Park Gwangsoo solo exhibition 《Crack》 © DOOSAN Gallery

Standing before Park Gwangsoo’s work, I broke down the large canvas into parts. A massive surface, larger than a human body, filled with black lines of varying thickness and their interstices, along with ambiguous imagery. The first thought that arises is about lines. We have seen countless lines functioning as formal language in art, and have encountered numerous discourses generated by artists and critics deeply engaged with “line.” What, then, are the lines accumulated within Park Gwangsoo’s images like?

When first encountering the work, I wondered what kind of tool could produce such lines on a canvas of this scale. The artist draws lines using tools he has made himself. As one observes the lines, one naturally imagines the artist in the act of drawing them. These handmade pens may capture even slight bodily tremors, deep breaths, or moments of hesitation and transfer them onto the canvas. In that sense, the lines are accumulations of the artist’s movements and time, and their varying thickness resembles layers of residue imbued with traces of time.
 
When standing before a large flat work, one instinctively steps back to create distance in viewing. From this withdrawn perspective, forms that were not visible up close gradually emerge. Fragments of lines sometimes form clusters, and at other times disrupt vision. This “movement of gaze” also appears in the artist’s animation works. Unlike flat works that allow viewers to regulate their own viewing distance, animation guides the gaze within the screen. The viewer’s gaze, lacking autonomy compared to the former, is drawn into the image and encounters various forms.
 
The exhibition title 《Crack》 may refer either to the fragmentation of images themselves or to an extension of the artist’s ongoing interest in “disappearing” images. Most images in his work seem to anticipate disappearance, depicting figures that appear ready to vanish. The artist has long been interested in the disappearance of a figure within a painting. This may serve as a metaphor for loss, aging over time, or disappearance encountered in life, and for the artist, it may also be part of the process of establishing a direction for drawing.


Park Gwangsoo, Dark Forest, 2017 © DOOSAN Gallery

From here, one may ask where these images originate. Were they fully formed within the artist’s mind? According to previous interviews, these images are not fully realized according to a predetermined concept, but are closer to processes that move toward completion while accepting deviations of lines. Lines without a fixed direction resemble fragmented language units.

Clusters of these fragments expand to form a narrative (image). This may be something that existed vaguely in the artist’s mind before becoming lines, or something that becomes clear at the point where the viewer’s gaze meets it. Ultimately, the images from these two perspectives may be similar or entirely different. The distance between them arises in the gaps between lines. Although the image is fixed within the flat surface, it continuously invites the viewer to imagine subsequent scenes, much like animation.
 
The titles of the works are limited to Crack and Dark Forest. The works titled Crack resemble faded portraits. While the figures within the image suggest absence, once they leave the visual system, mental images follow. At that moment, the viewer begins to see clearer figures. This occurs because images emerging from the gaps settle within the field of vision.

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