Hyang Mok Baik - Solo Exhibition 'You Know How Much I Love You.' > all

Hyangmok Baik - Solo Exhibition  

Hosted by Anzai Gallery

Presented by Sinit

Artist's Note

We all dream, and within these dreams, we encounter objects,

spaces, and people that oscillate between familiarity and un-

familiarity. In dreams, these elements seem unfamiliar with

some familiarity, sometimes familiar with unfamiliarity. Upon

waking, we grasp at fragments of what happened in the limin-

al space between consciousness and unconsciousness. These

fleeting memories, which we call dreams, are the narratives

I endeavor to depict on a flat surface, weaving together the

scattered remnants.

The subjects of my work predominantly stem from the peo-

ple and moments that populate my everyday life. They are

inspired by the people with whom I share close or distant

relationships, the conversations we have, and my everyday

routine, that, much like a hazy, peculiar dream, are vividly de-

picted in my work. Each element within my work is reconfig-

ured and rearranged through my imagination to form a story.

The objets in my story are simply drawn with lines, partially

colored or erased. They represent the subjects in my dream.

My dreams are sometimes clear, and yet at most times vague,

inaccurate, I draw these feelings I get from them, sometimes

coloring, and sometimes erasing, into lingering afterimages of

my dreams.

My intention is to evoke a sense of déjà vu in the viewers,

prompting them to feel as though they have experienced a

'strange dream.' This dream feels familiar due to its resonance

with past experiences, yet remains unfamiliar, like an old

memory slipping beyond the grasp of recollection.

Essay by Sinhee Kim CEO/Sinit

The realm of Hyangmok is shrouded in mystery. I usually detest sim-

ple categorization of any kind; nevertheless, some artworks seem to

belong to a group designed to provoke active viewer engagement,

with the audience's interaction being necessary for the artwork's

completion. This brings to mind the philosophical query: "If a tree

falls in the forest and no one is there to witness it, has it truly oc-

curred?" Conversely, and reluctantly defining as the other group of

artworks, Hyangmok's creations exude an aloofness, relegating view-

ers to the role of passive spectators, granted only fleeting glimpses

into an artist’s enigmatic world.

From the inception of his work, Hyangmok's creation appears com-

plete. His painstaking method of layering numerous colors, stripping

them away, and then repeating the process, is intricate and chal-

lenging to fathom, even with his explanations. I am captivated by

the chaotic beauty of this process and even the disarray of his stu-

dio. Each layer seems to encapsulate the artist's genuine emotions,

reflecting his real-life experiences and encounters, whether physical

or psychological.

In his recent works, intact figures appear more frequently, yet boldly

severed body parts or seemingly incongruous background patterns

persist, each with its own narrative. Some inspirations, like the "The

Last Supper" in his latest body of works, are clear, but many pieces

emerge from a confluence of perspectives and ideals, creating en-

tirely new realities. Although Hyangmok is not religious, his work

often delves into the grand origins of religion or myth, featuring

powerful protagonists devoid of antagonists.

When I first encountered his work "What Happened in 1990" at

an art fair, the abruptly severed figures immediately arrested my

attention. The meticulously layered dark and deep background

seamlessly incorporated two severed heads and an arm. Offering

no explanation, I had to stop and be curious. I imagined a dialogue

between the two faces, crafting my own narrative. It was my initial

introduction to Hyangmok's oeuvre. Despite my typically conserva-

tive approach to collecting, I found myself repeatedly returning to

the piece, ultimately deciding that I needed to own a fragment of

Hyangmok's world.

Since then, I have become a devoted fan, a determined collector,

and now, an aspiring partner in collaborative projects. I cherish the

privilege of being the first to witness his diligently created works for

each new exhibition.

Recently, Hyangmok sent me a book titled "Whale," a story about

women enduring violent lives. I was tempted to ask him which char-

acter he identified with or if he merely remained an engrossed read-

er of the raw, violent narrative.

I chose not to ask. My curiosity about Hyangmok's world is ev-

er-present, and it is a true pleasure and privilege to be able to

inquire about the nuances of his work—why the men possess dif-

ferently colored noses and genitals, or why his swans are achingly

beautiful yet ominous. Yet again, I refrain from asking, preferring to

comprehend Hyangmok's world through the language he selects to

define himself.

I am profoundly grateful to be a small part of his journey.