Visited on January 9.

M1

Second floor

Kim Hong-do, Gathering of Immortals, 1776.

A painting of immortals by Kim Hong-do! It was a far cry from the scenes of everyday life I was used to seeing from him, but the lively expressions on his characters’ faces were unmistakable and made it a pleasure to look at. In the central group, one immortal rides backward on a horse, absorbed in a book, while another diligently measures something with a ruler. The servant beside him looks grumpy, perhaps because his load is heavy.

The bat flying off to one side is worth a look, too. I had the same thought when I saw Shin Saimdang’s paintings of magpies and sparrows: how could they depict animals so accurately in an age without photographs? Bats aren’t exactly animals you see every day, either.

Gilt-bronze Standing Buddha.

I had often seen this statue in textbooks, but it struck me differently in person because I noticed the folds in the Buddha’s robes—something I hadn’t fully appreciated in photographs. The loose fabric hangs beneath the raised arm and drapes over thighs that protrude slightly beyond the torso. That delicate rendering suddenly reminded me of marble sculptures I had seen while traveling in Europe. I remember being astonished by the way they portrayed skin and thin cloth. I wouldn’t say this Gilt-bronze Standing Buddha is their equal in scale or intricacy, but it felt good simply to find a work in Korea that brought them to mind.

Tokujin Yoshioka, Water Block, 2002.

It’s neither an antique nor a Korean work, but because it takes the form of a bench where visitors can sit and rest, it stands in the middle of M1’s first floor. A thick glass block with a rippling surface rests on a simple stainless-steel frame. As the description says, it looks like ice without a single air bubble, giving it a wonderfully cool feel.

M2

Perhaps I haven’t yet developed the eye to appreciate abstract art, but most contemporary works I like depict real objects, or at least evoke them. The only work I’ve ever found thrilling without connecting it to any recognizable concept was a Mark Rothko painting I saw in middle school. So none of the works I discuss below should be so difficult that I can’t begin to make sense of their intent.

Second floor

Byron Kim, Deep Night.

I’m recording this work in particular because it looks so much like a photo I took of the night sky. In my photo, which I once posted on Instagram, the cloud in the center looks almost like the Milky Way. There’s no cloud or little star beside it in Byron Kim’s painting, but looking at the bare winter branches and the blue of the open night sky between them, I suspect he felt something much like I did.

Bae Young-whan, Pop Song—Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, 2007.

Beyond the bars, a video of young people playing in the water at a distant beach is projected, while Bob Dylan’s <Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door> plays in the background. The video is black and white, and dense bars stand between me and them. Their happiness feels very far away. Though I lack little in my own life, they seem to possess something I don’t. The languid song even makes me wonder whether what I’m seeing is real, or perhaps a dream. If I could catch a brief glimpse of heaven, might it look something like this?

It’s interesting that I can relate to the artist’s depiction of heaven, a world no living person has experienced. It’s not as though I’ve acquired a concrete idea of heaven through religion. Even more intriguing is that I felt something very similar in a work from another culture: the music video for <Afterlife> by the Canadian band Arcade Fire. If you haven’t seen it, go watch it. I don’t think the band is particularly well known in Korea, and I came across this one song by chance. I liked the song itself, but the video made me love it even more.

The story.

The father sells flowers by the roadside. He doesn’t seem especially good at it. He holds up bouquets and gestures to passing cars, but they simply speed by.
After a hard day, he has dinner with his two sons. Their mother is nowhere to be seen. In the silence, they exchange a few short, dry words. The older son asks his father what he did that day, suggesting that the father has no regular job and that they don’t talk often. After the quiet meal, the three men go to sleep separately. Their dreams give form to the longings left unfulfilled by the absence of a wife and mother.
The younger son finds himself in a laundromat. An unfamiliar woman puts him in a cart and wheels him away, then stuffs him into a washing machine and shuts the lid. Terrified inside the machine, which looks ready to start spinning at any moment, he finally wakes up. He goes to his sleeping father and tries to fall asleep again beside him. Only there does he find the comfort of being held by his mother.
The older son, in fact, has secretly gone to a friend’s party instead of sleeping. But he can’t let loose there either; he lies down in a field and falls asleep. In his dream, he walks down a corridor past girls his own age, paying them little attention. Farther on, he reaches a courtyard where a group who appear to be a family are gathered around a swimming pool for a child’s baptism. He approaches the pool, but high fences enclose it on every side, leaving him no choice but to watch the ceremony from outside.
The father’s dream is more distorted still. Passing through a strange space of leaning streetlights and scattered construction materials, he heads to an underground ballroom. Couples dance in the spacious room, while a woman stands motionless with her back to him. He approaches, gently embraces her, and begins to dance. Before long, though, the high windows darken, casting a shadow over his face. He closes his eyes as if resigned to it all.

The music video’s imagery and themes are remarkably similar to Bae Young-whan’s work. Happy people gather by the water right before their eyes, but bars and fences keep them from getting close; and, like the beachgoers in Bae’s work, the father’s dream is entirely in black and white. Strangely, it seems that feelings about a heaven we’ve never visited can cross physical boundaries and be shared by people everywhere.

Paul McCarthy, White Snow Dwarf (Happy).

From the work’s description: (Excerpt) The artist questions the innocence of popular-culture characters who appear pure and guileless, bringing the violence and obscenity lurking beneath the surface to the fore. ... One of Happy’s eyes and his mouth, normally part of an ever-smiling face, are caved in as though struck hard with a blunt object. (Excerpt ends)

The artist’s original intent is quite dark... Maybe it’s because I never knew Happy that well, but why do I find this funny? Hahahaha. He’s still smiling so brightly after being hit with a blunt object that it cheers me up, too. Maybe... this reveals something sinister lurking inside me ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

First floor

Kohei Nawa, Air Cell-A_37mmp, Air Cell-B_37mmp, 2011.

And here I am, seeing a vector field in it...🤦🏻‍♂️

Basement level 1

Wolfgang Laib, Neither Place nor Time nor Substance, 2003.

Enter through the long opening in a corner of the gallery and you find yourself in a narrow space enclosed by walls coated entirely in beeswax. Only one person can enter at a time, and a single dim incandescent bulb hangs overhead. I liked the feeling of being alone in a dark cave, but what struck me most was the scent of natural beeswax coming through my mask. Though I’d never normally smell it at such a concentration, it made me happy rather than uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s an instinctive satisfaction, as though all my need for food had been taken care of, like being inside Charlie’s chocolate factory?

Salvador Dalí, Space Elephant, 1980.

Salvador Dalí is such a giant of Surrealism that you’d have to be living under a rock not to know his name. I don’t dislike Surrealist paintings, but it’s René Magritte’s work, rather than Dalí’s, that really resonates with me. Even standing before <Space Elephant>, I couldn’t quite lose myself in it. Instead, I felt a greater sense of unreality at having a work by someone so famous right in front of me. At the same time, it felt oddly familiar. Thinking back, I remembered seeing a video about him not long ago on the YouTube channel <Art and Culture for You>. I also enjoyed its video on the history of the pencil. It’s a good channel for exploring interesting subjects and learning something along the way.

Olafur Eliasson, Your Unpredictable Journey, 2016.

Glass spheres of all colors and sizes glitter across an entire wall. Some have mirrored backs, reflecting tiny images of me. This work is simply beautiful. I took photos of it myself, and although the ones I’ve included here turned out much better than mine, it looks even lovelier in person.

Hyungkoo Lee, Canis Latrans Animatus, 2005.

Artworks often feel more valuable when you imagine the process of making them. At first glance, this skeleton looks like the fossil of a real animal. Once you learn it belongs to a cartoon character, you can’t help but admire the effort the artist must have put into studying anatomy and the properties of materials to make it seem real. Its comical pose, as though it might spring into action at any moment despite being nothing but bones, is charming too.

U-Ram Choe, Custos Cavum, 2011.

Like the work above, this one presents an imaginary animal reduced to its skeleton. Because it’s made of metal, it doesn’t look real in the same way, but a motor inside brings the skeleton to life. Its ribs ripple, expanding and contracting as though the creature were breathing, while the grass-like forms extending from its body move as if swaying in the wind.

Image sources

• “Cultural Heritage Information—National Treasure No. 139, Folding Screen of Gathering of Immortals by Kim Hong-do (2014 National Treasures App Photo) 001,” National Cultural Heritage Portal, Cultural Heritage Administration  (Gathering of Immortals)

• “Gilt-bronze Standing Buddha (Treasure No. 779),” Wikipedia, 2017.04.11.  (Gilt-bronze Standing Buddha)

• “Ochre and Red on Red, (1954) by Mark Rothko,” Mark-Rothko.org.  (Mark Rothko)

• “Byron Kim: SKY @ Kukje Gallery (2.1–2.28),” raver, Highway to Hell (Naver Blog), 2018.02.05.  (Deep Night)

• “Taking the Human Condition as Its Theme, Leeum Returns to the Public!”, Woman Donga, 2021.10.16.  (Water Block)

• “[Itaewon] Review of the Leeum Museum of Art’s Permanent Contemporary Art Exhibition,” Bluebus, Traveling by Bluebus (Naver Blog), 2021.10.18.
  (Pop Song, Air Cell, beeswax, elephant, glass spheres, skeleton, metal skeleton)

• “45 The Divergence Theorem,” Calculus Volume 3, Strang, Gilbert et al., OpenStax, 2016.03.30  (vector field)

• “Wile E. Coyote,” Namu Wiki, 2022.01.01.  (coyote character)