Installation view ©OUTHOUSE

We all live in our own houses. Each “house” takes a different form, and our ideas and meanings of home are just as varied. Whatever shape that home may assume — whatever attitude we hold within it — we all step out of it, only to return again.

In recent years, the idea of “home” has become increasingly complex to me: its relation to independence, the structure of family, the time spent within it, and, above all, the space of rest. Even after living in one’s house for a lifetime, it may not always feel comfortable; unfamiliarity can arise in an instant. It is a place utterly familiar, yet one we may desperately wish to escape. A place filled with our traces and preferences, where our weary hearts find rest from the outside world. Even if others call it a mere “room,” the world inside the door and the world outside it are not the same. For me, that space is my “home.”

The exhibition 《Mono Mansion》 begins from the imagination of a three-story house inhabited by three artists, each living on a different floor — their lives, values, and worlds connected by a small ladder.
 

Boundary: [Door]

In Cha Hyunwook’s work, the boundary is not something that separates, but a moment that allows encounters. Within the medium and practice of painting, the boundary of division and partition might have once been a firmly closed door. The artist, however, does not seek to circumvent or break it, nor force it open with a key. Instead, standing before this boundary-door, he patiently works to open it — entering from outside, exiting from within — with a gentle smile, holding a bundle of varied and delicate keys, turning each one with care.

In Park Jisoo’s work, the boundary lies between society and the individual. She examines how what may seem deeply personal can, in fact, be profoundly social. Standing between these realms, she reflects on social issues and perceptions, yet from the exhaustion and helplessness she feels, she redirects her focus toward the personal — toward everyday life, people, objects, and events around her.

Jungin Kim, meanwhile, explores the boundary between the individual and society — the line where personal reflection, participation, and coexistence intersect. The scenes on his canvases become composites of fragments of social phenomena: both signs of hidden resistance and marks of overexposure. In the push and pull between adjacent images, where surfaces press against each other, new dimensions and pictorial spaces emerge.


Installation view ©OUTHOUSE

Star: [Window]

Among the visual motifs in Jungin Kim’s work, the star appears in various sizes and degrees of clarity, often linking one image to another. His stars resemble torn pieces of paper, functioning like portals that connect familiar scenes of everyday life to other dimensions. They are windows through which to escape the intensity of society, yet also gateways that lead one back into it.

In Cha Hyunwook’s work, stars appear as small, subtle dots scattered across many scenes. His stars are both internal and external, unreachable yet constant — a sign that exists by day and night alike. By marking traces of the external universe (stars, the moon) and the internal world (Earth), he blurs the boundary between the two, positioning the star as an object that compels reflection.

For Park Jisoo, the star is more direct — the simple, honest shape learned and drawn since childhood, untransformed and unaltered. The star remains exactly as it appears: a wish, a prayer, a symbol of hope that shines the brightest.

 
Hope: [Space]

At first glance, Park Jisoo’s paintings may seem bold or rough — expressive brushwork, free forms, vivid colors. Yet the warmth in her palette and the playfulness in her messages convey charm, whimsy, affection, and hope. Her paintings raise a hopeful voice: that the dignity of individuals should not be crushed by society, religion, or misused power. They function both as appeals and as declarations — gentle yet firm acts of resistance.

Jungin Kim’s works, by contrast, first appear cold. Their subtly cynical hues evoke empathy and melancholy — like the pity one feels toward a broken tree or a discarded object. His paintings reflect unlit lives, fragile realities, and his own image mirrored within them — torn, shrunken, and yet transcendent. Through constant deconstruction and recombination, these images transform into brighter, more radiant, and more hopeful forms.

Cha Hyunwook’s paintings evoke maps of imagination — simultaneously fantastical and grounded in reality. The small, hidden figures and animals within his works, alongside the familiar scenery, embody the human impulse to question what is real. His imagined spaces feel dreamy yet familiar — places that draw the viewer to ask, “May I enter this home? May I linger here for a while?”
 

Text by Ahn Boo (Artist, Curator of OUTHOUSE)

References