Poster image of 《The Young and The Restless》 © COMMON CENTER

《The Young and The Restless》 is an exhibition concerned with the condition of contemporary Korean art since the 1990s. The 1990s marked a period of rapid transformation within Korea’s visual culture.

Into the final chapter of an era defined by the opposition between modernism and realism, postmodernism intervened, while institutions dedicated to contemporary art — including museums and residency programs, alternative spaces, and international exhibitions such as biennales — began to emerge one after another, serving as midwives for a new visual culture.

These developments created conditions in which artists and audiences alike could begin to reconsider their own positions in relation to the dominant tendencies of contemporary art. Accordingly, this exhibition attempts to infer the shape of contemporary art through the fissures and transitional gaps that emerged during the 1990s.

At the same time, the present is an era of instability. It has long been since dominant forms of criticism or stylistic paradigms disappeared, while political, economic, and social anxieties on a global scale continue to persist in muted yet pervasive ways. Under such conditions, it has become increasingly difficult — or perhaps no longer meaningful — to define contemporary culture through a single expression.

Contemporary art today no longer fulfills any stable expectation. This is precisely the predicament faced by today’s youth — the condition of the “surplus,” or the restless remainder left behind.

The title of the exhibition, 《The Young and The Restless》, symbolically refers to two generations of artists. The terms “the young” and “the restless” are employed as broad markers through which these generations may be distinguished.

“The young” signifies the optimism of a “romantic era,” evoking the spirit of the 1990s generation that ushered in an age of culture on the basis of the economic boom produced by the so-called “three lows” of the 1980s. “The restless,” meanwhile, refers to an “age of diminished expectations” — recalling the well-known phrase popularized by Paul Krugman — and seeks to articulate the instability shared by young people living in the mid-2010s, an instability that emerged somewhere in the aftermath of the 2008 global financial crisis.

Yet “the restless” has always existed within “the young,” just as “the young” persists within “the restless.” In this sense, the two terms ultimately constitute different expressions of the same condition.

The exhibition brings together five established Korean artists who achieved a distinctly contemporary visual language between the late 1990s and early 2000s, alongside five younger artists grappling with the conditions of the “here and now.” At first glance, the exhibition may appear to construct a confrontation between generations, as the ten participating artists — each belonging to different age groups — are arranged in pairs.

However, the exhibition is not intended as a project of generational division. Nor are these five pairings entirely independent from one another. Rather, the exhibition emphasizes the necessity of considering the broader relationships that exist across generations and thematic concerns alike.

In this sense, 《The Young and The Restless》 seeks to reveal both continuities and differences within a series of recurring tendencies that have appeared in Korean art since the 1990s.

Each of the five artist pairings produced new works by sharing particular motivations and methodologies of artistic production while engaging with themes they each regard as urgent within the present moment. Bringing these newly commissioned works into dialogue with earlier works connected to them, the exhibition attempts to trace a kind of genealogy extending backward from today’s fragmented cultural terrain to the 1990s.

Where might the possibility for a new form of “sustainability” in art emerge — neither as the meaningless repetition of the past, nor as the unstable present in which critical standards continue to erode?


Lee Wan, Movement, 2012-2014 © Lee Wan

Since the 1990s, Park Chan-kyong — an heir to the Minjung art movement who has long explored the modern unconscious of Korea through themes such as the Cold War, national division, and shamanistic belief — and Lee Wan, who has investigated the structures of capitalism as a universal contemporary condition, share the geopolitical theme of “Asia” in this exhibition.

In his new work Pa-gyung(罷經) Experiment 1 (2014), Park Chan-kyong undertakes an experimental inquiry into the relationship between “traditional (religious) culture” and Asian modernity. The work unfolds through questions such as: “How should we understand ‘traditional (religious) culture’?” “What kinds of artifacts might serve as references?” and “Can ‘traditional (religious) culture’ itself be interpreted as a sign system?”

If Park Chan-kyong resembles an archaeologist excavating omitted or suppressed histories, Lee Wan assumes the role of a detective-collector gathering fragments of the past as decisive evidence through which the contemporary condition of Asia has been produced.

His new work Movement (2012–2014), which captures the realities of countries such as Cambodia, Myanmar, and Indonesia amid rapid industrialization; Made in Taiwan: Sugar (2013), which reflects on the present state of a declining colonial sugar industry; and Korean Modern and Contemporary History Hobby Collection: “Political Power” Edition (1940–present), a collection associated with political moments in Korea’s modern and contemporary history, all bring disparate temporalities into simultaneous appearance.

These montages of collapsing — or soon-to-collapse — memories become occasions through which contemporary neoliberal culture may once again be reconsidered.

Song Sanghee, whose practice has continuously critiqued the contradictions of modernity, and Lee Jahye, who has created online comics allegorizing the impossibility of the contemporary era, share the common theme of “a protagonist venturing through a particular world.”

In her new work Finding O (2014), Song Sanghee juxtaposes the colonial histories of European imperial powers between the fifteenth and seventeenth centuries with mating scenes of cichlid fish inhabiting Lake Tanganyika in Africa, exposing desires for reproduction and expansion. Lee Jahye presents a mural installation utilizing the architectural structure of Common Center.

The work follows a protagonist named Annie Lorie as she undergoes a series of trials in order to become a female warrior within a magical world. Across successive historical periods — from the Middle Ages and early modernity to modernity, the 1970s, and the present — the protagonist repeatedly encounters unjust death, yet through each stage acquires the virtues required to become a warrior, eventually arriving in a magical paradise devoid of pain and sorrow.

Each wall pairs scenes depicting the protagonist’s path toward death with scenes of parties held in consolation of her death, collectively constructing a magical landscape known as Moon Patrol Garden. The “adventures” staged by these two artists, traversing time and space, vividly reveal generational perspectives on approaching utopia.

Ahn Kyuchul and Youngle Keem, both of whom have utilized “storytelling” as a mode of communication within their practices, engage in this exhibition with narratives surrounding the 1990s. Ahn Kyuchul presents a sequel to his representative work The Man's Suitcase (1993).

The Man's Suitcase II (2014) unfolds as a continuation set twenty years after the temporal point of the earlier work. Whereas the original piece concerned “the existence of another world, the existence of deferred possibilities,” the new work instead implies an attitude that “declares there is no longer anything left to wait for,” suggesting the arrival of a new phase.

If Ahn Kyuchul metaphorically rereads the 1990s through a critical reflection on his own practice, Youngle Keem approaches a more immediate emotional texture of the decade. Keem’s new work The Cares of a Family Man (2014) revisits the figure of the middle-class patriarch brought to collapse during the IMF crisis of 1997.

More than three hundred words describing the presumed psychological state of the household patriarch at the time — along with the names of objects one might have found within his room — are dispersed throughout the exhibition space. Together, the narratives proposed by the two artists simultaneously critique the emotional atmosphere and attitudes of the 1990s while offering clues through which the present might be newly understood.

Yeondoo Jung and Jungki Beak reconsider the meanings of dreams, aspirations, and their realization within a contemporary context. Their new collaborative work Air Pocket(2014) organically recombines elements from the artists’ previous works with various objects and mechanical devices into a single installation.

Behind the final image presented in Yeondoo Jung’s representative work Bewitched (2001) lie innumerable untold stories. Narratives belonging to previously unintroduced characters are transmitted through a radio powered by electrical energy generated by Jungki Beak’s candle device. In another room, a bubble generator operating on the same electrical current continuously releases small streams of air into a water tank.

Combined together, these elements form a work that functions as an allegory of catastrophic circumstances, simultaneously activating dreams, hopes, and a layered sense of impossibility. Although both artists have long been celebrated as “artists of dreams,” this exhibition reveals an ambivalence that cannot easily incline toward either optimism or pessimism alone.

MeeNa Park and Lee Sanghoon have each continued attempts to reconfigure painting as a traditional medium under specific conditions. In this exhibition, the two artists engage in a loose collaboration grounded in the shared denominator of “black and white.” MeeNa Park’s new work 2014 – Black (2014) extends her earlier work 12 Colors (2013), which dealt with the standard colors proposed by various paint manufacturers.

Using fifty-five commercially produced black oil paints from different companies applied onto standardized canvases, the work compares and contrasts these “constructed” shades of black. For Lee Sanghoon, whose participation in this exhibition may also be regarded as a debut presentation, diagrams adapted from the publication Method of Building Shadow(造影法) 1: 000-111 (2014), published by Mediabus, are displayed alongside the book itself.

By decomposing the conditions of sketching from observation, Lee attempts to construct a kind of manual for the production of painting. Through these reflections on medium specificity, the exhibition offers a glimpse into contemporary artists’ efforts to secure at least a minimal aesthetic point of reference amid what appears to be the dead end of pluralism.

The problem of contemporary visual culture — often described today as a condition in which “nothing is new” — is, in fact, something that has been endlessly repeated throughout history. We continue to discover problems through the mirror of the past, believing that they may still be renewed through a contemporary perspective.

If this much can be understood, then — to borrow a phrase from Park Chan-kyong — it should not matter “even if this exhibition amounts to nothing more than an awkward attempt at drawing a map.”

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