Poster image of 《Lost Corner_Memory Archive》 © SeMA

Jaeyeon Chung is an artist born in 1979 who was born and raised in Seoul. Like many of her generation, she has lived, thought, and worked amid the average range of memories—and the dissociation of memory—held by those who have experienced this city's changing landscapes and the rise and fall of its places.

Looking back on her early works, which first drew attention through several projects attempted in public spaces, Chung has tended to make her artistic statements in engaging ways within somewhat more tempered fields such as the individual, the everyday, the surrounding, and the corner, rather than rushing headlong into the sometimes overly weighty agendas contained in the words "history" and "space."

Instead of producing dazzling spectacles or objects with exceptional material presence, one of the distinctive features of Chung's practice has been to simulate fluid situations and induce people to make different choices and responses within them.

Seen against that background, her most recent project, Lost Corner, marks a kind of turning point in that the work is organized around a somewhat more clearly defined and tangible subject.

This is evident in her engagement with the physical reality of historical architecture and in the act of visually constructing that subject in one way or another. Yet the abstract performances that seem to blur, once again, each step of the process she has taken, along with her characteristic aesthetic attitude of keeping the work's message open in multiple directions, remain consistent.

Jaeyeon Chung, Memory Archive, 2019, Three-channel video, 42-inch TV, granite, 20 min 17 sec © Jaeyeon Chung

《Lost Corner_Memory Archive》 clearly takes the form of a follow-up exhibition to 《Lost Corner》 (2018). In other words, Jaeyeon Chung is still lingering in the shadows of the former museum (formerly the National Museum of Korea and, before that, the Government-General of Korea building), one of the pivotal places in her memory connecting her childhood to her present self as she enters her forties.

While the previous exhibition served as a space for acknowledging the discord between personal memory and public records, this exhibition examines the bewilderment and discomfort she experienced from a more objective distance, loosely bringing together the fragmented and conflicting perspectives of various individuals.

The perspective on memory has shifted from her own intimate recollections to the memories of others, while her quiet attempts to recreate the architectural plans of the now-demolished building through etching have evolved into bold journeys in search of strangers. As a visual artist, Chung's emotional fascination with a particular space, followed by a series of attempts to reject, separate, and rationalize that fascination through reason, initially prompted architectural research.

However, this process eventually developed into a self-reflexive investigation of her own historically shaped ethical consciousness and national identity, both constructed within sociocultural contexts.

This exhibition also serves as a personal report comprising public records Chung has collected over the past year, fragments of memory edited by self-proclaimed online historians, and the voices of people she encountered while traveling between Korea and Japan.

In preparing this body of work, which has gradually evolved into a long-term project spanning three or four years, Chung assumes multiple roles: a quasi-journalist producing historical documentaries; an installation artist and performer who uses the construction of labyrinths as a metaphor for her psychological struggles throughout the process and for a kind of historical space devoid of foundations; and a particular voice guiding a film essay.

Jaeyeon Chung, Memory Archive, 2019, Three-channel video, 42-inch TV, granite, 20 min 17 sec © Jaeyeon Chung

The exhibition recalls, mourns, idealizes, and simultaneously desecrates the former Government-General of Korea building from multiple perspectives—a structure that endured extreme political and historical upheavals and embodies a deeply fractured sense of place.

Through the perspectives and convictions of six individuals whose voices the artist sought out and listened to, we encounter accounts omitted from official records or at odds with collectively accepted sentiments. Discrepancies between records and betrayals between memories inevitably become the driving forces behind the work.

Over the past few years, Chung's journey has involved meticulously reconstructing the traces of architecture that state power deliberately sought to erase, filling them in with precise lines; rebuilding the remnants of a vanished space by connecting foundation stones across an empty site; casting the alluring shadow of a rose window; and eventually setting out in search of scattered voices.

What was Jaeyeon Chung seeking to confront throughout this arduous process? Was it the traces of memory, fractured and distorted like images in a kaleidoscope, as she continuously shifted her coordinates within the quadrants defined by architecture, place, history, and the nation-state? Or was it, ultimately, an indirect exploration of herself?

Jaeyeon Chung, Memory Archive, 2019, Three-channel video, 42-inch TV, granite, 20 min 17 sec © Jaeyeon Chung

A site worn away by time, gouged by excavators, overlaid with an excess of words, and finally erased. I find myself contemplating the strange corners to which Jaeyeon Chung will likely continue to return for some time. I await the unfamiliar memories and familiar losses she will encounter there, and the events that will unfold in the spaces between them.

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