Installation view of 《Echoes from the Back》 © Space AfroAsia

The Back of Korea, Evidence of a Certain Time

Since his first solo exhibition in 2006, CHE Onejoon’s photography has always looked straight ahead. His gaze, directed frontally toward marginalized and prohibited spaces outside the narratives of Korea’s compressed history and the Cold War—such as colatecs, red-light districts, bunkers, guard posts, and U.S. military training grounds—constitutes a politics of vision that rearranges the structure of our visual experience.

The Mansudae Art Studio project, developed over more than a decade beginning in 2010, traced the histories of monuments and architecture constructed by North Korea in Africa, seeking to look closely at their actual presence beyond the images of North Korea embedded in our collective psyche.

Having brought this long-term project to a provisional close, the artist relocated to Bosan-dong, Dongducheon, in 2021 and opened a space called Space AfroAsia. His gaze has since shifted beyond spaces and narratives that represent the complexities of modernity toward the historicity of Dongducheon itself and the West African migrant-worker community residing there, while beginning to intervene in relationships between people.

Alongside Dongducheon’s “camp town economy,” which has declined rapidly since the 1990s, spaces abandoned as the population decreased and their functions disappeared, Camp Casey with its uncertain timetable for return, and sites of mourning commemorating the history of violence and suffering surrounding U.S. military bases, African migrants who moved there in search of livelihoods now make their lives.

This exhibition attempts a kind of journey through time by means of reconstructed images as a way of experiencing the specificity of place. At the entrance to the exhibition, archival materials and videos first introduce Dongducheon’s complex postcolonial history and economy, the resilient traditional cultures of the African communities that coexist there, and the pluralistic conditions that have unfolded across generations.

The second-floor gallery then presents an archive inherited from a neighborhood photography studio that opened in 1963 and closed last year—primarily portrait photographs of U.S. soldiers with Asian or Black women, along with the painted backdrops used for those images.

If Kim Yongtae’s DMZ (1984), which appropriated such portrait photographs in Korean art history, was a bricolage revealing the social structures of national division, CHE Onejoon’s Echoes from the Back (2025) reverses that approach, presenting the images instead as existential evidence of individuals who lived through an externalized history.

The photographic data entered into AI technology extracts only the backs of the figures. Stripped not only of sociocultural information about these anonymous individuals but even of the aura of art, the images do not conceal the glitches and errors of technology.

The totality of these images, encompassing even the limitations of the technology itself, becomes the back of “Korea,” which in turn produces multiple histories and the economic logics of invasion and migration. The absent frontal view becomes both a sign of individual historical loss and a paradox of existence that proves, through absence, that someone had once been there.

The photographs and videos presented in another space imagine the future of Dongducheon, where postcolonial narratives and a multicultural present coexist. The gap perceptible between the technological experiments and artistic practices attempted in this exhibition may become a question about where this art is headed.

Could this gap become a form of resistance that overcomes the limitations of media spanning society, art, and everyday life, connecting us to a world of different sensations? Is the ritualistic landscape that confronts traditional elements from Korea and Africa intended to open a gap between cultures, or is it one among many facets through which modernity can be reconsidered?

The backs of figures whose specific identities remain concealed suggest that these are images capable of infinite generation. Through the technological grammar of repetition, viewers themselves propel unknowable historical narratives and experience a movement of recursion back to that time and place.

The digital temporality revealed by these images thus becomes a circuit through which fragments of memory embedded in living histories and communities can be witnessed.

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