Installation view of 《Tracing on Emptiness》 (ONSU-GONGGAN, 2020) © Jaehyoung Im

There are things that can no longer be protected the moment they are uttered. It is a case in which one can no longer embrace what wanders aimlessly among words that have been spoken. When looking slowly and carefully at Jaehyoung Im’s paintings, which are pale, quiet, and therefore seem slow, one comes to sense that he is someone who tries to protect the words he has held in rather than spoken.

Because Jaehyoung Im does not wish to utter things carelessly, he hides them in various ways. Perhaps because it is difficult to immediately put thought into language, it is easier for him to conceal it by layering several modes of thinking; the artist often leaves subtle clues about “seeing” a painting.

In his work, one can generally discover layers of things faintly hidden beyond what is visible. When facing Equilibrium(2020), the diagonally cut background first catches the eye, but the horizon of the sea contained within it is so quiet and orderly that at some point one forgets the irregularly shaped background. When looking closely enough to forget the horizon, the countless marks of the carving knife appear like wounds on the sea.

These wounds have arrived at the sea hanging opposite and remain there as scars. A Certain Clock also appears unstable at first glance. Only the PLATE-MARK is tilted; the frame is straight, and the clock drawn at an angle has found its proper direction again. Here, the traces of paint that have flowed sideways allow one to guess that it was originally painted while tilted.

I imagined the time of Jaehyoung Im, who must have watched the flowing paint in its entirety. Silent times of looking at the clock, which was tilted “108.1 degrees” until it sank in water, then turning it back to that angle and leaving it as a trace.

Jaehyoung Im, Equilibrium, 2020, Woodcut on paper, 100x430cm © Jaehyoung Im

If the works mentioned above take into account the operating mechanisms of printmaking, Withered Brushstroke and Heavy Snow adopt a method of “drawing again” a work that had already once been drawn. The artist enlarged parts of works once quickly painted with fluid materials and drew them again on paper, in pencil, dryly, deliberately, slowly, faithfully preserving the materiality and texture of the previous medium.

The subjects of each work, a withered plant and snowflakes, are objects that have already passed through time and disappeared, or will soon disappear. This time, I imagined Jaehyoung Im’s time: drawing something dry with water-based material and leaving it as flowing traces; leaving falling snow with thick paint before it soon melts away; and later reproducing the materiality of the painting that recorded it again in pencil. Times accumulated to an almost tenacious degree.

As the time he gropes through and draws becomes structured into thicker layers, viewers also come to grope more slowly through the things that have stayed by the artist’s side. The series of cast-off traces left by Jaehyoung Im are calmly accumulated, as if he does not wish to carelessly cut up the past or exhaust it in a few words, and through them, we intervene more closely in the gaps of time he has drawn out.

As another example, I mention a strange time recently given to the artist. There was once a house that should have had someone in it, but was empty. The traces left in the empty house by the person who had just moved out remained as photographic subjects for the artist that day. The act of taking out and drawing again, now, the images that Jaehyoung Im collected is an attempt to draw up and slowly contemplate the gap he encountered in The Last House.

This time, I return again to the dark sea. The “equilibrium sea” mentioned earlier held the wounds left by the time indicated by the stopped clock hands. What is contained in Light from Afar is a certain light resting on the sea. As he counted and drew the lights on the surface of the water one by one, another silhouette was paradoxically revealed.

The fading light and the darkness that rises in response are in fact endlessly repeated, and Jaehyoung Im briefly holds onto the time that had stayed there by intervening in the gap of this solid order. Only now, as I keep these stories in mind and leave them in writing, do I look back on the time that had been placed before him then.

And as I look at another cast-off trace he left as a painting, I think of the emotions the artist projected while drawing, the energy exhausted through that process, and the other cast-off traces newly generated within it—the words that can now be murmured, or the languages that remain as noise.

Installation view of 《Tracing on Emptiness》 (ONSU-GONGGAN, 2020) © Jaehyoung Im

The various “cast-off traces” left by Jaehyoung Im visualize the artist’s concern with holding onto the times he has encountered in their entirety. Through drawing, Jaehyoung Im attempts to replay and review his own attitude of trying not to let go of the peripheral things surrounding “absence.”

He persistently traces the necessity of drawing in order to look closely at the meaning of representing absence as it should be represented. Even if he cannot make it clear at this moment, he draws in order to trace the remnants of what has passed and disappeared, and to knead into form the sensation and method of expression appropriate to it.

Jaehyoung Im infiltrates through this method of drawing, and in his own way commemorates the things that have already been uttered and are now wandering.

Text by Kim Yubin

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