4 Profile
Piano Preparé (Prepared Piano), 1985, 2-channel-video (16:9),05:56 min
Concert by John Cage, 1986, video and multimedia, Soun-Gui Kim and her invitees at La Vielle Charité, Marseille, 1986. Photo: Guilaine Benjamin
I-Hua (One Stroke of Painting), 1975-85. Photo: Noh Chi-Wook
approach is essential. Looking back to the show at the NMMCA, although the curators did a wonderful job and did everything in their power to make that exhibition happen, the space meant that there was a lot of back and forth between curators, administration and financing. Ultimately, synchronising all these entities proved to be quite challenging! One needed approval on all steps for various undertakings with the result that, in my opinion, there was a huge loss of time and energy with the outcome still being uncertain. For an artist, this becomes a heavy burden. Also, in general, some curators pretend to understand my work, but ultimately they end up trying to apply a global-aesthetic criteria that currently rules the contemporary art world. I am very far from these criteria and I have always tried to avoid following any type of trends or fashion. Also, following my experience in
regards to exhibitions, curators sometimes tend to see what they want to see. Tey have their own pre-conceived ideas, determined to put me in the frame of an Asian female artist to tick all their criteria. As an artist, refusing these propositions, you are immediately labelled an anarchist, even more so as I am not a submissive woman, making it impossible for curators to control me. Tat is why I have not participated in many exhibitions in France, because if the curator’s only goal is about finding an image that matches their needs, I say no. Even if I am offered an interesting project, I refuse. In such a context, participating in an exhibition is a complete no-go on my part.
AAN: You are facing challenging circumstances. Today, many institutions are exhibiting and promoting female artists.
KSG : Tis is precisely the type of judgement I want to avoid.
AAN: The curator of the NMMCA exhibition referred to you as ‘the missing link’ between art in Korea from the 1950s/60s and contemporary artists. Do you agree? KSG: In Korea, there is an artistic structure that brings together the most important artists and, basically, they are world famous and established artists. In my case, I have been out of that circuit, never wanting to be part of it. When I was young, back in 1975, I was extremely
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famous in Korea because I was avant-garde. I had conceptual discussions with many cutting-edge and avant-garde artists and our debates always ended in my favour. I was very noisy, defended my views and my ground, hoping for society to change when it came to art. I was not an easy artist to deal with and, looking back, I probably scared off some institutions. I think it was easier for people in Korea to accept me when I came back in the mid-1970s with an etching exhibition – more in tune with what a female artist was supposed to do as opposed to my earlier performances and installations. Ten, in the following decades, as the Korean economy developed, a young generation prospered that also impacted the arts creating a new dynamic for artists, who were then also very active internationally. Within this impulse of movement and change, my name was completely forgotten. I have been going back to Korea on a regular basis, but so far, I have remained outside art circles.
AAN: Ultimately, you found your way back into that circle, or rather the other way around, institutions reconnected with you. KSG: In preparation for the exhibition at NMMCA, for the first time, curators took ample time to look at my work. I have a very large studio in the outskirts of Paris and after thoroughly reviewing my work, they felt an exhibition was long overdue. As for myself, I was wondering why they suddenly felt the urge to exhibit my work. Tey were surprised to discover a female artist that was completely outside of their art circle, not only in Korea, but also in France – and who had a strong body of work, both in terms of quality and quantity.
AAN: You have not chosen the easiest path since, commercially and career wise, you did everything that one should not do. Do you agree? KSG: Absolutely. Earlier in my career, I was crazy about the idea of making videos. After teaching for 10 years to keep me financially afloat at the École Nationale d’Art Décoratif in Nice, the École Supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Marseille, and the École Nationale Supérieure d’Art de Dijon, I acquired a camera in 1982. Around that time, I also received the first grant to be awarded for research
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on video, which today would be the equivalent of approximately 100,000 euros. I bought a video camera with some of this money. Back in those days, the entire equipment amounted to the price of a small apartment! I nevertheless went for a video camera, but then came the question how to supply the camera with electricity? I ended up going to my neighbour asking for help. Ten, I had no petrol to drive around, so I was up and about carrying my equipment on a cart. Te years from 1980 to 1992 were very difficult, even more so as I was a single women with financial uncertainties. It was complicated, but I nevertheless continued working and moving forward with my research. Tat was the most important to me, but at the same time, it was also a huge challenge, especially as my equipment broke down and I had no specific technological knowledge to fix it. I kept at it for the simple fact that I am extremely passionate about what I am doing. My practice is an essential pillar of my life.
AAN: You created the multi-media art department at the École Supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Marseille. Is the department still working? KSG: I was asked to teach drawing, which I accepted under the condition I could also create a multi-media department which included photography, video, cinema, sound and sculpture. I am not sure how things stand at this point, because starting the early 1990s, the school began to change with students selecting their activities according to the needs of the galleries and the market. Te commercial aspect has impacted the school and I am therefore not sure the spirit of the department I created was
maintained, as I stopped teaching around 2010.
AAN: Looking at your trajectory, one wonders why you decided to stay in France instead of going to New York or Düsseldorf, cities that were most avant-garde when it came to experimentation in contemporary art? What motivated your choice? KSG: When I was a student at university, Korea was a very poor country and ruled by a military government. Back then, going abroad to study was simply out of the question. However, I always wanted to go to France: in my mind, the idea of art was linked to the city of Paris. As I graduated, there was the possibility of a scholarship to the US. Out of curiosity, I took the exam and got accepted. However, I had no intention of going to the US. Instead, I wanted to go to Paris, which in my opinion is where the birth of Western civilisation lies. I then took part in a competition for a scholarship by the French government inviting young artists to France. I won the scholarship and have stayed in France ever since. Although I was extremely creative
By refusing work, I was immediately labelled an anarchist
with regards to my practice, I was terrible at how to go about selling my work. Tree years into my scholarship, I did not want to go back to Korea because I wanted to travel around the world. I took the exam to be certified to teach in France, allowing me to have a steady income and support myself. Looking back, I must admit that it was laziness on my part not to go and see dealers in view of a possible collaboration. However, I also did not want to become a gallery artist since the commercial aspect of it somehow scared me. I deliberately stayed in France, since in Germany there was a language barrier, although I did teach in Hamburg. In addition, I feel a deep connection to Western philosophy and I have always kept excellent relationships with the French philosophers, many of whom have become friends. It is a joy to exchange and take on new research together with them. Tat is basically why I stayed in France.
Saekdong 2, 1969, oil on canvas, 128.5 x 128 cm, MMCA Collection
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AAN: You began deconstructing painting in Korea, even before you left for France. What made you realise that you did not want to limit your practice to the size of a frame hanging on the wall? KSG: I think it is my nature. I have been painting since I was seven years old, evolving all sorts of painting. I managed to get into the National University in Seoul and started to look into poetry and sound. I also became involved with the French language department there and spoke French long before going to France. I realised that, as an artist, I was absolutely not made to work within a frame. In the third year of my art curriculum, I almost set the school on fire, because I wanted to achieve more depth with the colours I was using. I therefore added oil, determined to burn parts of
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the surface, but that did not go well! I was intrigued, first by a black surface, later by a white surface and then, suddenly, I started to cut things out, hanging them on the wall, and hanging them outside. Tis is how I came to deconstruct paintings in what I called a ‘situation plastique’ – a situation created by the relations of time and space. Before leaving Korea in 1971,
I took part in an exhibition of young artists and people could not make sense or discover the meaning of these pieces hanging outdoors. Tings were completely different when I arrived in France, where the movement ‘Support Surface’ was very strong. While I was part of an exhibition involving various international and French artists, people could not understand that an Asian artist, on top of it a woman, was behind these pieces that shared the same spirit as Support Surface. I had long exchanges and debates with the French artists involved in the movement. I tend to think I was slightly stronger, mainly because I had the advantage of having been so involved with Eastern and Western philosophy. I was able to defend my space.
AAN: Were there any movements that were eager for you to join their undertaking? KSG: I was asked on several occasions to join Fluxus, but I was too fond of my independence. Nam June Paik was looking for younger members, but I refused. In addition, various groups also asked me to be part of their endeavour, but I wanted to remain my own master, even at the risk of being forgotten.
AAN: What impact did Nam June Paik (1932-2006) and John Cage (1912-1992) have on your practice? Perhaps, there was also an impact the other way around, something of interest to Nam June Paik and John Cage? KSG: Our relationship was based on numerous exchanges. I met John Cage by accident in a lecture, asking him a question which led to three continuous hours of Q&A. Ten, he asked me to work together with him and I spontaneously stayed for his workshop for an extra week. Upon his return to the US, he spoke about me to Nam June, and I subsequently met him a year later in Paris while he was creating a performance with Charlotte Moorman. As to John Cage, up until his death, I had a very long and fruitful collaboration with him. John Cage is clearly the artist I respect the most, I learned a great deal from him.
AAN: You indicated that John Cage had been the most important artist for you. Why? KSG: When I met John Cage, I was very fond of the writings of Wittgenstein, whom I was studying at university. In addition, I am very passionate about Asian philosophy, especially Buddhism and Taoism. When I discovered John Cage was having a lecture, I immediately thought I had to meet him in order to
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