Poster image of 《BBackstage》 © PLACEMAK2

The Space Left Behind the Stage

Once the audience rose from their seats and the lights on the stage went out, everything that had been visible disappeared as well. As though it had all been prepared for a fleeting moment of tension and lingering resonance, everything scattered in an instant. Perhaps what is visible and the act of seeing amount to little more than judging and assigning value to what has been made visible, while overlooking the processes behind it.

Just as when we look at a painting, we talk about the colors, textures, and forms that appear on its surface, but rarely about the act of painting itself. If the empty stage appears desolate after a performance, perhaps it is because the actors' gestures, their spoken voices, and the spirits embodied in the light and sound that filled the stage have all burned away. Did no one see it?

The effort it took to kindle that flame. I believe that understanding art means being willing to recognize the hardships and loneliness of artists that lie beyond the audience's gaze.

Black Jaguar, 211, 2021, Mixed media on Korean paper, 287 x 210 cm © Black Jaguar

I moved backstage to see what remained invisible, to discover what had accumulated beyond the walls. There was a yellow forest. The yellow light illuminating the forest seemed to be the air, or perhaps the atmosphere, surrounding a man hanging from the stem of a plant. It could also be described as a powerful energy emanating from an ambiguous realm where the boundaries between male and female had dissolved.

Much like the tenacious vitality we sense when encountering an unfamiliar wild plant. The man appeared to be playing with the plant from which he hung. Perhaps he considered himself a part of the plant as well. That might explain why he seemed to stand there, clinging to the plant and letting his body hang like a vine. Just like the woman who was watching him.

Black Jaguar, 212, 2021, Mixed media on Korean paper, 355 x 150 cm © Black Jaguar

At some point, the number of potted plants and greenery in her home began to grow. Whenever I asked their names, she would tell me the names of the plants in her room, in the living room, along the exterior walls of the building, and on the rooftop. One day, she told me that eucalyptus was a delicate, sensitive child, difficult to care for.

I had the impression that she kept these plants not simply to admire their flowers, deep green leaves, or distinctive forms, but because she regarded them as living beings with whom she shared her life, almost like people. What did these plants mean to her? The woman I remember is someone who has been wounded many times.

I know that some describe her as a strong person, someone who expresses herself with clarity and precision, both in words and emotions. But I have seen so much more. Behind her laughter and curiosity about the world, I have seen the doors to her heart gradually closing, and I have seen her wiping away tears.

Perhaps plants were beings she could lean on, beings to whom she could offer affection without fear of being hurt. She was someone who tried not to pass the wounds she had suffered on to others through her gaze or words. Like the roots of a plant, she remained firm and steadfast on the ground where she stood.

Black Jaguar, Norangsa, 2013, Oil on canvas, 73 x 91 cm © Black Jaguar

Beyond the yellow forest, she stood on one leg. With her back to the sky and the fiery red light of the sun, she stood among the flowers and plants that had blossomed and grown, as though she herself were part of the forest, one of its inhabitants. Perhaps she was breathing through her skin. It seemed as though she was breathing life into others through touch, through the sensations she herself experienced. What I saw was not the movement of a human body, but a forest swaying in the wind.

Had the performance not yet ended? People were watching her. Their gazes shone like stage lights. As I looked at the people gathered backstage, I realized that I was witnessing a space of welcome and hospitality. In a place where everyone could be welcomed without discrimination or distinction, her performance was only just beginning.

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