Installation view of 《밤, 낮, 달, 비, Speaking in Tongues》 (Commonwealth and Council, 2024) © Jesse Chun

Over the past year, the name “Jesse Chun” has appeared with striking frequency across a number of exhibitions: in 《Nostalgics on Reality》, Thaddaeus Ropac’s group exhibition spotlighting six Korean artists, and in 《Tongue of Rain》, the theater-based exhibition at Art Sonje Center. One of the gains brought by Frieze Seoul has been the way it has drawn diasporic artists living abroad back onto stages in Korea.

Last year, Chun visited Seoul for the first time in six years. Based in New York, she has explored language through a range of media including drawing, video, and installation. She stayed in Seoul for several months to participate in the Seoul Mediacity Biennale 《THIS TOO, IS A MAP》, immersing herself continuously in her work. Earlier this year, Chun joined the MMCA Goyang Residency and has since been working between Seoul and the United States.

“Having lived as someone with three permanent residencies, traditional Korean music and dance have always emerged naturally as subjects for me, even while I was living abroad. Without realizing it, I think I was searching for something archetypal. My grandmother was a traditional dancer as well as a Buddhist nun. Hanji was also a material I had wanted to continue working with, and last year my mother suddenly told me that my grandfather had run a hanji factory for twenty years. I had never known that before.”

This led to the creation of 시: concrete poem, for which Chun sought out a mudang with direct knowledge of the craft and learned the paper-cutting technique known as seolwiseolgyeong. Influenced by shamanic rituals in which paper is cut to summon spirits and later burned during gut ceremonies, the work is a meditative and labor-intensive process: Chun fills hanji with illegible, asemic characters drawn in graphite and then cuts each character out one by one.

“It’s a kind of ‘meditation’ on language. Even drawing the lines takes a very long time, and if I cut something incorrectly, I have to start over from the beginning. Still, I really love putting that much time and labor into it. I think of language as a tool for communicating with other worlds, so when I work on this piece, I imagine it as a ‘portal’ that I’ve made.”


Jesse Chun, 시: concrete poem (no. 041924), 2024, Graphite on hand cut hanji, wood frame, 158.75 × 91.44 × 6.35 cm © Jesse Chun

Chun’s attention has long been held by “language.” “The reason the limitations of language became such an important subject in my work is because I’ve learned through my own life that no language can ever be translated perfectly. That is also why I became drawn to ‘poetics,’ which contains so many different possibilities for language. Since returning to Korea, I’ve begun to realize that all the experiments I’ve been pursuing are starting to come together. Language, meaning, time. My work continues to circle around these three axes.”

In her studio, some of her representative series are still in progress while others have already been completed and arranged. Another series, ‘Score for Unlanguaging’, considers the possibilities of language without setting limits on them. Chun abstracts English, the international lingua franca, by repeatedly layering stencils bearing Roman letters, and then calls the resulting images “scores.”

Rather than leaving the drawings confined within a frame, she invites musicians and dancers to interpret the scores in their own ways and perform them. “They are ‘scores’ through which language and the meanings within it emerge along nonlinear pathways. I wanted to ‘activate’ the drawings.”

Since spending more time in Korea, Chun’s interests have increasingly moved toward the cosmic and the primordial.

“As someone who lived in Hong Kong, a former British colony, I’ve spent a long time exploring the keyword ‘decolonization.’ I think people who have immersed themselves in this subject can no longer understand time as something linear. Moving further from there, lately I’ve been wondering: before the timelines constructed by the West existed, what did time look like? What did language look like? Whenever I have time, I visit temples and speak with monks about ‘cycles’ and nonlinear flows of time. We understand each other well. (Laughs.)”

Influenced by the traditional East Asian theory of the five elements—water, fire, earth, wood, and metal—Chun has also increasingly gravitated toward natural materials and materials associated with East Asian traditions. She handles hanji dyed with blue lacquer, draws over it with graphite, and projects moving images onto stones of various shapes.

Chun’s most current concerns come together most fully through performance. On September 4, during Samcheong Night, she will expand upon a performance previously presented at Art Sonje Center as part of the Frieze Seoul LIVE program. Together with Kim Hyang-soori and Ahn Yoo-hee, Chun presents movements and gestures that reinterpret sangmo spinning and traditional Korean performance practices.

“I’m thinking of calling the performance Score for Unlanguaging (Cheonjimun and Cosmos, no. 042823) ‘Dal Madang.’ In madanggeuk, the audience is close to the performers, and there are no hierarchies or levels separating them. I want to begin outdoors in the courtyard at 10 p.m., when the moon is up. I’ll hang the drawings, project video onto the ground, and traditional dancers will freely open up the space over it. I’m drawn to reinterpreting Korean traditions in my own way. It’s more interesting to create variations than to reproduce them exactly as they were.”

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