Park Seok Min, Temporary Orbit, 2016, Oil on canvas, 162.2x112.3cm © Park Seok Min

“I spent a week, day and night, looking at the antenna and its surroundings. First it looked like a white lump, then it seemed to resemble folding paper, and then it transformed into a blot. And finally, it became something so shapeless; it did not look like anything anymore.” _Artist Note

There are clunky square alarm clocks. The slightly different screens are placed next to each other. Small screens are placed side by side as freeze frames, as if continuously showing a paused frame of a shot. The black or white scenes rapidly inserted between the two cuts make the light flicker as if causing visual illusions.

Once, twice, thrice. This image creates unfamiliar, complicated, and momentary scenes through the unexpected encounters between the misty memory surviving on the grounds of unconsciousness and the present. 

We gaze at certain things. Particular objects, figures, or scenes within our sight. At the same time, the surroundings are visible, but do not precisely come into sight. There comes moments when scenes that hang beyond the rim of sight merge with each other and turn into stains, and do not look like anything anymore.

As if I am falling into a black hole that swallows heavy masses, while blankly observing. Whereas no one can escape from it, the masses accumulate on the surface of the white hole, located on the other side of the coordinate, and gets spit out towards the outside of the boundary. The residues of implied memory about actual subjects pour outside and turn each other’s time. Then reverse again. 

There are instant moments. There is a place where time flips over and all times gather together. The airport, in a state of vacuum, where instant moments assemble. Dispersed times that is unable to narrate all of life, full with stories embraced by anonymous individuals exist here. The futuristic products of meta-capitalism, built from incalculatable astronomic number games - terminals, runways, massive aircrafts, etc. - contrasts with the entangled intersections of lines and fingerprints of an individual’s palm.

Our misreadings of ideas and dreams about time and compromises toward small parts of life are encompassed in this small palm. As we, living on land, challenge to fly despite of this vulnerable palm, thanks to hundreds of corporate engineers’ collective hard work, an airplane is always successful. We feel humanity between uncanny tension and stability, in front of an airport which is like an assorted gift set.

We remain in somewhat unrealistic sentiments like viewing the ocean and forest on Google maps during the few hours of a flight, escaping from cumbrous things. Nonetheless, when retaining luggage on top of the spinning conveyor belt after landing, we suffer from an aftermath that seems unrecoverable. We remember all the materialistic and uncomfortable things related to the existence of ourselves, as if silently reaching a positive agreement. 

The cigarette smoke is being puffed loosely. The breath that endlessly become visible on cold days dramatically contrasts with the cigarette smoke or body temperature. The hazy smoke that is visible in any form or from anywhere fills the entire screen. The 30 cuts of flashbacks - images of memory dissolving into pause and extension, captured from the passage of time - as a method of still cute, a unit of sequence.

The individual’s minor and impulsive behavior maximizes through the sentiment of a paused screen. The paused consecutive scenes that touch our senses of smell and vision are within a special impulse to reach the climax. This moment would be the brink of the moment when the word ‘end’ motionlessly appears on the screen, in the gap of the narrative, able to embrace and immediately understand everything.

The uncountable scenes that approached the state where one observes a subject for a week, start from imagination, then appropriates and modifies, exists in the space between apparition of real time cinematic pause and the malerisch moment. The delayed images of memory, captured from the passage of time and came to a stop seem to be random, like “specimens” of truth. 

The omitted images of memory embrace distinctive time and differs in speed. The scattered time continues on into thoughts about an uncertain corner of delusional space. The passage of time of the spacesuit, accumulated in the mind between image datas, are rhetorical towards memory. The development of spacesuits that were studied for military purposes even before the first lunar exploration derives from gradual improvements of previous spacesuits.

The vague memories of the transformation of 9 different space helmets in 9 square black screens, unconsciously allow one to discover human’s faith and desire for a space. We have been constructing spaces for hollow things and tolerating amusement within the system of limited spaces. Even when spaces that are no longer believable appear, we have a habit of advocating reason for the space, to establish it anyway. The desire going towards or coming from somewhere, and to endlessly observe something and become a viewpoint, constrains us to fixed time and space through memory. 

There are clunky square alarm clocks. The slightly different screens are placed next to each other. Today, any day, one turns off the uneventful alarm, and observes the sky.

The tiny lines on the left palm, one habitually stares at, the net-like transmitting towers one cannot resist to observe, the cigarette smoke and breath integrating, delusions about seconds from forgotten short-films, the confidence and misconception towards the expanding emotions within condensed time… the narrator standing outside of the screen (or ourselves) gazes at the subjects, intuitively observed in a infinitely drifting life through the senses from the other side of experience.

However, consciously or unconsciously, this obscure senses are in fact not obscure, but perhaps aspires to get to the concealed memory, hidden within certainty. Furthermore, discontinuous time applies a thin layer of memory's density like the shiny surface of lightly applied paint.

Therefore, we endlessly encounter instances where a series of paused fragmental moments are misread in screen. As the vague white lump became so shapeless. To a point where it no longer resembled anything, we delicately leave these encounters as the time of uncertainty.

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