Nostalgia 2024
A ceollection of the artist's personal images that overlap with reality and stimulate nostalgia.
A ceollection of the artist's personal images that overlap with reality and stimulate nostalgia.
it happened. trivial.
I've tried creating a stop-motion animation of a story that begins with a camera and a toe human being, both physically incompatible, sticking their heads into each other's holes.
A film made with things collected in the summer.
Filmed at Hongjecheon in Seoul, Mokgamcheon in Gwangmyeong, and Gulpocheon in Incheon, the film captures the impressions of three streams in three different cities. Each of the three streams intersects and overlaps with images of the filmmaker’s own body.
The result of an experiment around filming, developping and making hand impressions with 16mm of the director's father.
A trace of private observation and recording of another person's memory. This work is based on the video recordings of Lee Woo-jung's mobile phone. It is expected that the traces created by the method of repeated superimposition will create different layers of time and emotion. Through this process, the structure of other people's records gradually collapses, and I pay attention to the new structure that emerges from the pile of ruins.
A photograph of someone. They are emptied, replaced by something else. I discover the vertical side of 8mm fits with the empty screen.
Through repetitive negative film printing, I abstracted scenes in which black and white are endlessly exchanged. Images of Lumière(;light) brothers' arrival of train, 35mm photos of train station I shot in France, and female corporal images from my experiences and memories were used for this performative process.
When the rectangular screen freezes, people begin to rise one by one and walk out of the frame. It's the spacetime that occurs between departing bodies and growing plants. Riding on the sound of feedback, you and I collide, and you finally escape from this place.
What the director's grandfather went through during the COVID-19 pandemic.
A short film as a draft, an exercise, or maybe the first segment of a long-term project tracing the evolution of my nephew's voice as he grows. In the film, he talks about when he built a snowman called Snow Ice Monster which was then torn down and rebuilt by other children. He listens to a recording of his voice and notices that he sounds like a certain Minjung, who does not exist in real life.
To prevent the absence of sense from becoming an absence of image, the image obtained on the retina after passing through the pupil and the lens must pass through the blind spot before arriving at the optic nerve. A dark room is a blind spot in an image.
What is this incessant noise that keeps ringing? It sounded like the roar of the wind, the hum of passing cars, or the sea breeze sweeping through the streets. It felt unfamiliar. The lights of the night, the towering and intricate buildings illuminated by smooth LED surfaces, come alive, dancing with faces and bodies. Seoul is a whirlwind—a devouring maw, a cacophony, a rapid stream of images that leaves your senses struggling to find focus. And so, I set out to trace this intriguing sound. One of them comes from the roof of my home. It originates from the wind and evokes the repetitive beat of a drum. On se souvient des pas begins here. Through a geographic and temporal journey as the camera transitions from one scene to another, the film encounters Korea's history and traditions. This is a kind of journal—an attempt to grasp the essence of this land where I lived for ten months.
A Woman with a Movie Camera is the result of an experiment and an exploration on the 16mm film camera shooting, developing, and hand printing of her father.
This film begins from what is unseen rather than what is seen. The act of connecting fragments is carried out by the audience. Images that were once unrelated become intertwined, and something unfolds in the spaces between them. That which does not flow is dead. Fragment is a collection of images derived from this sentence.
A man searches for memories of his family's past, alternating between Geomeunyeo, Buseok Temple, and his grandmother's house, all of which are located along a straight line on the map. Geomeunyeo is a rock located in the reclaimed area of Buseok, Seosan, South Korea. It was originally a reef that was exposed above sea level, but is now above ground. The name of Buseok, which means floating rock, is said to be derived from Geomeunyeo.
Sensus Communis: The circumstances of the artists associated with their workshops are very diverse. At a time when it is difficult to occupy even a square meter of residential space due to unequal economic and social conditions, artists who own or rent studios to produce art have continued to walk a tightrope between thought and reality. How is it possible to do what you want? Depending on the type of work and socio-economic conditions, the occupation method, space size and use are very different. - Studio Score: Artists experience physical and movement perception in space and time, right in the studio. The place is used, the body is treated as an important element and the boundary between art and life is broken, leading to new aesthetic experiences.
2014/variable duration/sound/16mm multi projection performer:Na, Yeonwu opening performance at Namjun Paik Art Center
I continue to indulge in the illusion that I am a fish.