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The work of Korean photographer Bohnchang Koo reveals the beautiful futility of trying to hold onto something dear.
"Bohnchang Koo: Masterworks of Korean Photography" at the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, MA.
by Mary Sherman
Boston, MA - December 11, 2002 -
Not surprisingly, the image chosen to promote "Bohnchang Koo: Masterworks
of Korean Photography" is a
sewn together photographic collage of a male nude. This picture
clearly refers to the mix-and-match photographic technique of the Starn Twins
whose career took off in Boston.
In the '80s, it was commonplace for painters to lift imagery. In post modernist
terms it was called "appropriating imagery" from pictures throughout
art history. The Starn Twins used a camera to swipe visuals. What distinguished
their work, though, is not just that they photographed other artists' works,
but they also fragmented them into a number of photographs, which were crumpled,
stained, scratched, and pasted together with Scotch-tape or pinned directly
to the wall in what looked like a casual manner. In their hands, photography
became a unique hand-made object, a hybrid work at a time when artistic media
were still assigned to such discrete categories as painting, sculpture, and photography.
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Bohnchang Koo, White, 2000.
View more images |
Comparing the
photography of Bohnchang Koo with that of Starn Twins, however, is not altogether
fair. This show asserts the importance and power of Koo's own distinctive trajectory.
For many artists in the '80s, the collage format, whether layered, painted images
or the actual collaging of materials, suggested a way out of modern art's apparent
dead-end. In part, the idea was that everything that could be done had been
done, so why not create something new by recombining old images?
Paintings by American artists like David Salle reveled in the hodge-podge glut
of images cluttering our visual landscape. Works by artists like Sigmar Polke
took a sardonic stab at consumer culture by way of sly images full of visual
conceits. Koo had a slightly different idea. Yes, he is drawn to the
use of collage and layered imagery, but his aim is to re-humanize art, not
to create a hermetic end game that shuffles and reshuffles references to other
imagery.
Instead, in Koo's words, his work "for a long time has expressed a history
of certain living things and their decay and disappearance. I was reminded of
a saying they have in India that what we call the world is an accumulation of
dust. I wonder how many stories the almost invisible traces of dust can tell
us? I am very interested in the scars and the traces made by time or experience."
The series "White"
depicts small flecks of gray and black against an almost uniform white field,
reminiscent of Agnes Martin's barely visible lines on white canvas. On closer
examination, Koo's thin points, however, turn out to be tiny branches trapped
in snow.
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Bohnchang Koo, In the Beginning, 1991.
View
more images |
Other pictures, such as those in the series "Snow,"
with their fields of stones or grass shot from above, bring to mind minimalism's
use of essential forms. Of these photos, Koo explains that he "wanted to
photograph that moment when snow on top of the ground or grass begins to melt
and disappears."
These pieces reveal more than Koo's post-modern aims. Without a horizon line, they seem infinite. The small objects depicted
-- flecks of snow, a few uncovered stones -- are poignant when placed in large
fields. A sense of impending change, and with that, loss, permeates the work.
The idealized bodies of Koo's Starn Twin-like collages contain a similar emotional
resonance. He crops out or covers the heads of his male subjects in the series
"In
the Beginning." The photographs draw their expression from the figures'
controlled poses of anguish, brilliantly frustrating the works' erotic undertones.
Similarly, by piecing the photos together with stitching, Koo undermines the
viewer's ability to make sense of their forms all at once. Instead, one must
slowly navigate the image. In this way, Koo uses black and white film to capture
every undulation of his models' beautiful flesh, but then thwarts the pleasure
of that sensuality, which creates a tense psychological energy.
Eschewing empty formalism in favor of a terse approach to emotion, most of
Koo's work revolves around highly charged poetic images. Using evocative objects,
such as an old pocket watch, photographed with precision against an ocean in "Breath
#1," Koo resuscitates the Surrealist's idea of the marvelous as the surprising. But he clearly does so on his own terms: he forces us to take Surrealism's
irrational juxtapositions in the guise of a minimalist format and a post-modernist
mindset. His exquisite, spare images become snapshots of what at first appear
to be chance encounters, but in reality are controlled constructs, rendered
with such conviction as to propel us to suspend our disbelief.
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Bohnchang Koo, Good-Bye Paradise (Box), 1993.
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more images
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Like the surrealist Rene Magritte's, Koo's photographs traffic in situations
that, like the images in the series "White,"
at first suggest one thing but, by looking more closely, reveal something else.
A similar situation exists in another series, "Good-Bye
Paradise (Box)." Photograms of butterflies and bugs are pinned inside
wooden cases, with glass fronts like specimen boxes in a natural history museum.
The images of the insects are black and white on rice paper. We are confronted
with ghosts of the creatures, their traces transferred to photosensitized paper.
In the boxes, the insects' images -- and by extension all photographic images
-- are revealed to be just one more doomed attempt to stop time, to keep a moment,
thing or creature in a fixed state, even though, rationally, we know it's impossible
to arrest time. Instead, like all of Koo's best work, we're left with the beautiful
futility of trying to hold onto something dear, even if it's just the ashes
of life itself.
The "Bohnchang Koo: Masterworks of Korean Photography" exhibit is on display
through February 18, 2003 at the Peabody
Essex Museum in Salem, MA.

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