REVIEW

Gwangsun Park

Break Time, 2020, oil on plywood, 175 × 60 cm

Portraits of Those Who Were Salvaged

Gwangsun Park

For a long time, Gwang Sun Park has been painting oil portraits on discarded plywood that he finds on the streets or at construction sites. This unusual process is emblematic of the artist’s overall style and goals. As opposed to a well-prepared canvas, a piece of used plywood instantly elicits thoughts of alienation, exclusion, and disposal. The mere act of painting on such an inappropriate surface, without even a layer of gesso as a base, is itself a performative gesture that implies resistance to convention and disengages the work from conceptual conditions. The resulting paintings exist as compelling evidence of the artist’s choices and gestures.

Park’s appropriation of discarded panels also helps to extend the relationship between the artist and artwork beyond the usual production process. His works remind us of the encounter with the object, while also evincing relationships forged by fate. Rather than planes for two-dimensional representations of people, the panels become three-dimensional forms of actual people, much like totems. He sometimes uses pliers or other tools to roughly cut or rip away the background behind the figures, transforming the works into some type of relief. This technique also furthers the illusion that the figures exist in real space, rather than inside a pictorial background. As such, his subjects come to inhabit an unspecified area between two and three dimensions. In Thrill (2012), Park painted a faint portrait on a thin layer of plywood, which he then attached to a white panel. It seems that the plywood had not yet attained an independent position. But in Broken Faith (2016), two figures are united within a single wooden board: a large silhouette resembling a woman wearing a shawl and holding a candle, which contains the smaller, darker figure of a man. While these two figures are intrinsically combined as one, they each have their own outlines that were cut separately.

Gwang Sun Park always paints his figures very thinly, thereby allowing the wood grain to remain visible. As the untreated wood absorbs the paint, the tone of the faces is slightly darkened. In some cases, he scrapes off or rubs the paint after it has been applied. In Three Sisters (2018), for example, he wiped the paint vertically on the plywood. Hence, white paint from the veil of the central woman drips across her face, like a ruined painting, while the facial expressions of the two other women are almost rubbed out. Through such materials and methods, Park’s works take on a sense of poverty and destitution, transcending mere expression or representation to enter the “economic” realm of painting. Similar to Thrill, Sorrow Wolf (2020) was made by attaching a piece of painted plywood to a canvas. But here, the background canvas was intentionally stained with paint and dust, like a old floor covering that has been endlessly trod upon for a long time.

Since 2019, Gwang Sun Park has increasingly used canvas in his works. Even so, he has maintained his signature method of quick and concise painting, and also continues to damage the surface in interesting ways, such as applying and tearing away pieces of masking tape, removing patches of paint. They Don’t Remember Me as Much as I Thought (2020) is a portrait of someone looking straight ahead, but the face is very roughly rendered with a blurry gaze and expression. Moreover, pieces of the face have been removed with tape, reminding us that it will disappear someday. This sensation is extended in Too Chairs (2021) and Ramseyer Poisoned the Well (2021), in which the tape was used to damage the entire plane of the painting, not just the figure. More than mere representations, Gwang Sun Park’s paintings suggest negative memories or emotions. Recalling the “spells” of Antonin Artaud (ethereal drawings combining images and text), Park’s works are like intermediaries derived from real-life relationships or experiences.

They Don’t Remember Me as Much as I Thought, 2020, oil on canvas, 130.5 × 97 cm

Too Chairs, 2021, oil on canvas, 112 × 145 cm

Ramseyer Poisoned the Well, 2021, oil on canvas, 162 × 112 cm

Erase Color 21-01, 2021, oil on canvas, 65 × 50 cm

Artist’s Note

Space is established and progresses in time. The coal mining industry, which flourished until the 1980s, began to decline in the 1990s. With the decline, coal mining regions such as Jeongseon, Taebaek, and Samcheok became more and more ruined as time passed. Those living in the midst of this decline have lost their way due to economic difficulties. In the famous poem “Natasha, the White Donkey, and Me,” Baek Seok wrote, “You renounce the world because it’s in disarray, but going to a remote mountain doesn’t mean you’re free from the world.” Like the poem, all of the people in the blind end of a mine gallery have their own stories and hopes for life that brought them there. So we go back to different places and times and live today, breathing in this contemporary megalopolis. The labor-intensive industries that formed the core of Korea’s industrialization gradually declined. Population decline and industrial restructuring are adjustments to imbalances in supply and demand. In the space created by historical times, we stay for a while, spending our own time and creating something new. As society has developed, each generation has been able to think a little more independently than the previous generation. In a way, after the time when people had to risk their lives in the mines, we have more time to polish the rough stones. Through my works, I want to create a lasting time in our memories and our culture. To create such a sustainable story, focusing on the individuals, I snoop around today’s society as well.

Gwang Sun Park
b. 1972

Solo Exhibitions
2021	Remove Color, Forest Gallery, Seoul
2020	Gaze: Again, Get Out of Here, Artnoid 178, Seoul
2018	Collection and Modification, Artertain, Seoul
2004	Beuckgesoo, Art & I, Seoul
2003	Snoop Around, Art Space Pool, Seoul

Duo Exhibitions
2020	COL +-, Gwangsun Park & Surrea, Gallery IN, Seoul

Selected Group Exhibitions
2021	Someone, Art Space Hue, Paju
2020	Uncomfortable Hand, STUDIO126, Jeju
	PAJU Act. 2, Artists’ Studios & Art Spaces in PAJU Book City, Paju
2019	Veiling like Veil, Artnoid 178, Seoul
	All Drawing in the World, Artertain, Seoul
2013	Guerrilla Show, Gallery Gwag, Yangpyeong
2004	Na, Sejong Center Gwanghwamun Gallery, Seoul
	Use Your Illusion, Marronier Gallery, Seoul
2003	Uncanny, Gallery La Mer, Seoul

Residencies
2019	HUE+NETWORK ART STUDIO, Paju

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Artspace Hue

Artwork Inquiry

Stains of Time
Sukkwon Hwang

Old memories are bound to fade. For a good reason, it has been said that “Humans are animals of oblivion.” When we dwell on these words, however, they remind us of why we forget. That is, we keep the memories we want to remember and forget the rest. The rest of the memories means things that are other than the components of who I am today in relation to objects, which are the things that have nothing to do with me. The significance of Kwang-Sun Park’s work lies in finding the instinctive meaning in such human memory. It can be discussed in terms of externally revealed media and the combination of memory and personal history that are internally infused in his work.

Composed Rejection
Park uses plywood for his works because he thinks canvas is “too smooth.” Such an idea comes from a wide range of inherent characteristics of the canvas. In the history of Western art, the canvas has been customarily used for two-dimensional works and became a mythicized material that was never questioned. If we recall that two-dimensional work was defined as a struggle against illusion in Western art history, the authority of canvas as a material remains valid today. The same must have been true for Park who majored in painting. Although plywood is a kind of label that defines the artist, Park was already aware of the nature of canvas when he rejected it as his artistic material.

In addition, Park considered canvas as a material under a strong pressure of typicality. It had no appeal for him as it has set boundaries in terms of length and width. The way images are constructed in a canvas seemed to under predetermined rules. The artist refers to the deprivation he experienced in childhood as the reason he could not help holding such a view of canvas. Although he grew up in an environment with easy access to nature, such nature-friendly surroundings were created not for the sake of convenience. Abundance in everyday life was not guaranteed and nothing was taken for granted. Physical growth was achieved, but empirical cognitive inspiration showed a discrepancy. The gap was filled by relationships built with the people he met during the course of his life.

It seems this is what made Park choose plywood as his material. In the words of the artist, plywood, as a tool that imposes sections and certain paths of movement, allows the intention of its user to exert great force. Nevertheless, the space created by plywood also exerts enormous power. One cannot surpass the intention of plywood application, and it can establish authority although it is inexpensive. The way Park treats the material is as tough as can be. He smashes and tears away at the material with a tool in a manner that is far from careful. This is not a manifestation of the artist’s will to show something to somebody but the expression of his resolution to establish a point of clear separation. The point is clear, and diffusion of emotion hits a wall. By doing so, the artist confirms his own existence.

As such, Park’s view of plywood boils down to the fact that it is easily transformed and can build a sense of boundaries. However, the realization did not come out of the blue. It was the result of long observation as he converted labor into economic value to go about his daily life. As he figured out the characteristics of canvas and ultimately rejected it, the truth is the result of experimentation in various media. Park’s favorite materials are those with somewhat coarse surfaces, including hemp cloth. His choice of materials reflects his desire for any material other than canvas that can embody his identity.

It should be noted here that paintings usually begin with deciding ‘what’ to paint. However, Park pays more attention to the medium, or ‘where’ to paint. Accordingly, the subject of creation visualizes objects that come to mind and the unfolding events (what happened) or relationship, and the themes are certain fragmentary thoughts formed during the process of visualization. Viewers go through the process of combining their own experiences and related memories with the relationship between the object and the artist, which is thereby converted into a specific situation. This is the process where universally experienced events become formalized types. At this moment, the structure of a visualized image is sometimes subject to random reading, which is tantamount to aesthetic experience. The disparate gap is born as a new memory. However, Park rejects the grammar of such aesthetic experience and solely devotes himself to the goal of conveying his own memories.

Paradox of Sorrow
One of the things that Park tries to convey in working with plywood is family. The presents a photo taken from a real album, reflecting on aching memories through its delicate correspondence with materials. It tells stories of those who are left alive, remembering and mourning those who have left this world and remain only in photos. That appears to be the artist’s destiny. Seemingly he is telling his own story with calmness. However, the rough outlines are a sort of lament achieved by maximizing the materiality that exposes the characteristics of the material. Reflecting on memories for anyone is like thumbing through a photo album, not just for the artist reflecting on his secret personal history. One wants to deny those memories but cannot, or erase what has been done but cannot.

In Park’s work, however, it is the components of the relevant memory that organize and restore the time before and after a given event rather than the memory of the moment the picture was taken. Accordingly, the photos that are major motifs in his works are not a record of time that stands still but a record of time that the artist and the person(s) experienced together. An event here is a story but one that is not recognized intact and without distortion.

Park expresses his stories without any embellishment. They are not mythicized, nor are they kind to the artist. There are no touching stories that may appear in television dramas but there also no tragic or pessimistic endings.

Duty of Those Left Alive
In closing, I would like to discuss some of the changes recently detected in Park Gwang-seon’s work. It seems to me that Park has recently been stacking up memories vertically instead of arranging them horizontally. The artist has finally realized that memories can be overcome by putting a new memory on top of the old and the rhetoric of oblivion can be added to them. Moreover, Park said that new memories could be formed by living his own life with integrity.

Park said that he has carefully begun to use canvas again. This act resembles indistinct strokes made by the artist with a long brush. He does not expect compliments. But what does it matter? Art is not about being right or wrong. I would not like to describe his recent work with the trite expression “experimental.” Rather, I would like to encourage his errors. That is because errors are not synonymous with failure.

Simply, I would like him to keep telling his personal stories as he has been doing. I hope that Park’s microscopic stories will touch on universal sentiment, struggling to permeate more ordinary lives.