Exhibition

Because my worldview has been shaped by my experiences as a woman, a mother, and an immigrant, my work is an effort to draw connections between my inner life and the world beyond. 

I spent the first 29 years of my life in Korea, speaking Korean, living amongst Korean people. When I immigrated to America, I found that in order to communicate I had to abandon my mother tongue. In this way, I had to re-orient my identity; my relationship to the world.  Abandoning my mother tongue did not mean instant assimilation; to this day, I am an “other” because of my accent, my understanding of grammar is different. There was a distinct sense of loss, of losing my cultural identity. 

 While I was becoming an American, I also became a mother. It demarcated my life into two stages: having a mother tongue (29 years) and having motherhood (25 years). Balancing a career and a family is the story of many American women’s lives. It is a struggle that comes with acutely painful choices. Being a mother was in many ways a burden to my career, but it was not without its joys. It enriched my life with love that I would not have otherwise experienced. 

These two events happened largely at the same time in my life, and I began to see links between the two. In birth, a person must let go of their mother, cease to be connected to her body.  In the same way, I found myself having to let go of my mother tongue in order to have a voice in this new place. In these frustrations I found incentive to find yet another voice in my artwork. In the visual, I found more freedom and refuge from the struggles that accompany language barriers. It’s these tensions that I seek to explore in this body of work. Is motherhood a shackle or a wing? Is a mother tongue a yoke or an anchor?

As a person who has spent half her life in South Korea and the other half in the United States, cultural context has shaped almost all my works. During my time in America, I have lived on both coasts before settling in the Midwest. Humans are typically the subject matter in my work, but my 15 years as a Kansan have changed my relationship to the subtle landscape of the Great Plains. “Splendor in the Grass” sets out to explore the cultural and artistic encounter through a new frame of reference and aesthetic investigation.

The tradition of landscape in Western art has been increasingly concerned with reproducing nature; whereas Eastern landscape art is more interested in reproducing a stylized vision of nature. Despite the differences between these approaches, there are distinct parallels and consonances. The intention of, creating landscape is to suggest the essence, the eternal qualities of the landscape beyond reality, something sublime. It is imbuing the landscape with a “spirit resonance” or vitality. The process of the work is a record of energy being transferred from the artist into the work.

The primary medium and method for these works (fiber, thread and stitching) provide a unique agent of interpretation with their tactile richness, vibrant color, multilayered depth, as well as the complex cultural roles of this medium. By incorporating fiber, I convert the conventionally feminine activity of needle works into a medium for art making. The slow, repetitive nature of stitching enables me to be more mindful of the present moment. I symbolically partake in creating a new synthesis of East and West, Craft and fine art, artist and nature, Korea and Kansas.

4 quilts each for specific prairie grasses: tall bluestem, Indian grass, switch grass, little bluestem.

Loosely inspired by the writings of the Polish poet Adam Mickiewicz, Frederic Chopin composed his 4 Ballades. Because there were four, I created a correlation between the music and the tall grasses of the prairie. Ballads are a folk-art form, they were created and meant for ordinary people combining the art forms of story-telling, music, and dance.

Chopin was a Polish immigrant living in France and I am a Korean immigrant living in America. I see consonances between our circumstances, because both our countries of origin have a history of political strife. The four ballades share common features, but they are no less than individual works. Inspired by these ballades, I decided to make quilt with threads. My works are an homage to the plebeian class, a way of giving voice to the plight of those who were powerless in the face of larger political forces, without using words.

My intention in creating this series is also to show my appreciation of the people and grassroots movements. Each individual thread, like a blade of grass in a field, is an integral piece of the quilt. Each human lives their own narrative, but regardless of their course, these lives are contributions to history, the great story of humanity.

Though the words “house” and “home” are often used interchangeably, it makes sense to differentiate between the two concepts.  The fact is that a house, apartment, or other structure is relatively stable. On the other hand, a home is abstract and ever fluctuating because it lives in a mind. Home can be any number of spaces, and can belong to any number of people; no deed or lease is needed. One’s relationship to home may also be complicated. Pleasant memories mix with unfortunate or bittersweet ones, because home is not one flavor. Rather, it is a full medley of tastes. The notion of home emphasizes much more than the notion of a house because of its psychological significance to individuals and its cultural meaning.  While to live in a house is to occupy, to live in a home is to dwell.

Over the course of my life, I have lived in 12 spaces, but some felt more like home than others. While the world outside might be unstable and out of my control, I can work to keep a sense of homeostasis (or solidity) within my walls.  The abstract drawings and paintings in the House series are my reflections on each of these spaces, spanning from Korea to the United States. By happenstance or preference, the residences that felt like home were all a one-family house with a small yard. When I lived in apartments and dormitories, I felt unanchored.

Through the House and Home exhibit, I look at how I feel about my home and how I shape the house to live. “House and Home”, it is more than simply a shelter, but it is a reflection of my inner self.

As a person who has spent half her life in South Korea and the other half in the United States, cultural context has shaped almost all my works. Humans are typically the subject matter in my work, but settling in the Midwest have changed my relationship to the subtle landscape of the Great Plains. “Reflection: Spirit Resonance” sets out to explore the cultural and artistic encounter through a new frame of reference and aesthetic investigation.

The tradition of landscape in Western art has been increasingly concerned with reproducing nature; whereas Eastern landscape art is more interested in reproducing a stylized vision of nature. Despite the differences between these approaches, there are distinct parallels and consonances. The intention of creating landscape is to suggest the essence, the eternal qualities of the landscape beyond reality, something sublime. It is imbuing the landscape with a “spirit resonance” or vitality. The process of the work is a record of energy being transferred from the artist into the work. 

The primary medium and method for these works (fiber, thread and stitching) provide a unique agent of interpretation with their tactile richness, vibrant color, multilayered depth, as well as the complex cultural roles of this medium. By incorporating fiber, I convert the conventionally feminine activity of needle works into a medium for art making.  The slow, repetitive nature of stitching enables me to be more mindful of the present moment. I symbolically partake in creating a new synthesis of East and West, Craft and fine art, artist and nature, Korea and Kansas.

Thus, this project sets out to explore the potential mixtures or cultural hybridization as a representative mechanism through which the media and techniques of traditional Korean and American cultures are incorporated in new ways of art making. 

전쟁과 인간

강신희

이번 전시회는 전쟁과 억압의 상흔 속에 피어나는, 평화에 대한 희망과 생명에의 경외를 이야기하려는 의도로 기획됐다. 대부분의 작품은 분쟁과 폭력으로 인해 삶이 뒤틀어진 개인과 군상의 얼굴을 형상화한 것이다. 이 작품을 통해, 비극으로 인한 상실의 아픔, 인간 생명의 소중함, 극한 절망과 공포에도 굴하지 않는 평범한 이들의 희망과 용기, 그리고 자유와 정의에 대한 갈망이라는 인간의 보편적인 경험과 이상을 드러내 보이고자 하였다.

이 전시회에는 일제의 식민지 지배, 2차대전, 한국전 등 지구촌 분쟁과 관련된 인물의 초상이 주를 이루고 있다. 특히 전시회가 한국전 초기의 주요 전장이었던 의정부에서, 한국전 (6.25전쟁) 발발 65 주년 기념기간 중 열린다는 점을 고려해 작품을 선정했다. 한국전에서 전사하거나 실종된 미군 병사, 미군 아들의 전사 통보서를 받아 든 어머니, 전쟁 고아의 미국 입양을 시작한 평범한 여인, 분단으로 인해 이산의 아픔 속에 살아가는 나의 가족의 모습 등 모두 28점이다.
 
아울러 최근 논란이 되고 있는 일본 침략 역사 왜곡과 관련해 “위안부”,  “안중근 의사”,  “두 왕국 이야기” 등의 작품도 포함됐다. 또한 전쟁과 뿌리를 같이하는 억압, 식민화라는 비인간적 지배, 여성에 대한 편견, 특정 인종에 대한 차별과 학살에 맞서 분연히 일어선 무명 영웅의 얼굴도 담아 보았다.  

 
모든 작품은 섬유 작품이다. 천 위에 실을 무작위적으로 뿌린 뒤 바느질 (random stitching) 하거나, 한국의 전통종이공예인 지승을 헝겊에 적용한 작품, 천으로 만든 요요 (yo-yo)를 이용해 퀼트로 제작하는 기법이 사용됐다.

이번 전시회는 미국 아이젠하워 대통령 박물관 (Dwight Eisenhower Presidential Museum and Library)에서 열렸던 진신희 작가의 개인전 -“전쟁과 평화” (War and Peace, 7월 15, 2012 -3월 31일, 2013)-을 모태로 하고있다.

In my show, entitled Reverberating Silence, I attempt to carve out what I proudly call feminine territory in which the voices of effaced and silenced women reverberate, focusing on how cultural structures and strictures, repressive of women, could become dynamic and inspiring resources for female creativity.

Hence, Reverberating Silence is the site in which two completely opposite meanings of a room coexist and complete: on the one hand, it is a confining space which hampers and represses women’s artistic expression; on the other, it is the feminine space in which freed creative energy finds its expression.

I constantly try to valorize devalued women’s labor and the women’s body by reversing the negative insinuations associated with female domains and imbuing them with positive qualities. For that purpose, I often utilize needle, thread, and fabric in order to call into question the deep-seated bias that women’s work is trivial, menial, marginal and undesirable.  By incorporating wool, fiber, and string into the sculptural production, I convert the conventional “feminine” activity of needle works into a useful medium for the making of art. Through the strategic use of media that have been traditionally associated with the feminine, I want to show that seemingly ‘menial female work’ can be a source of pleasure and power for women.

The slow nature of my technique seems to reenact the creative process of birthing. This recalls the gradual forming of the fetus through the intersection of capillary within the belly of the mother or perhaps the silkworm’s patient and continuous spinning leading the creation of its cocoon. Thus, these pieces speak not so much of sorrow, anger, regrets, but rather, of healing, recovering, inner joy attained by/through converting the physical, oppressive condition into the stimulating and dynamic inner resources for creative life.

In her poem “Human Family,” Maya Angelou explores the connections between people around the globe, and ultimately concludes that “we are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.” 

Inspired by this idea, I have created a series of pieces that further probe this theme of interconnectedness between peoples of the world.  A series of works in the exhibit have been created with one idea in mind: all of humanity constitutes one family, a family unified despite its vastness. 

The first step in creating this series was to make portraits of my immediate family, a microcosm within a macrocosm. Using “yo-yos” (rosettes created by sewing the edges of a circular piece of cloth and gathering at the center) as the building blocks of each, I formed likenesses of my immediate and extended family members. The family portraits also include “Esubalew,” six-year-old boy in Ethiopia, whom my family has supported through Compassion International.   In a symbolic effort to expand the boundary of family, I added the portraits of the victims of human tragedies. September 11, which contains 1,910 ballpoint ink portraits of people whose lives were destroyed on September 11, expresses my deepest sympathy for the victims. Eve, the Mother of All Living also reflects the sympathy I felt for mothers who lost their child. 

Another series of works depict the marginalized and forgotten people who have remained voiceless, faceless, and nameless. The plight of the Asian “comfort women” who were forcibly removed from their homes to serve as sex slaves in Japanese military camp during the World War II is an unsung tale. Comfort Woman, a series of portraits of high school girls in the shape of a ceremonial kimono, is intended to be a universal reminder of what happens when we lose our humanity and forget what unites us.  Behind the Labels is made of about three thousands of labels I have collected from my own family’s clothing over the past 20 years. The beautiful clothing is the result of sweat of garment workers and various abuses such as low wages, lack of rights, and poor working conditions. The label is more than an indicator of the garments’ brand and works; it is also the story of another person’s life and hardships.   Imago Dei II or “In the Image of God” is placed at the center of the exhibit floor. These nine quilts surround the image of Christ in the manner of petals extending from a flower. Each round-shape quilt contains a portrait of a great humanitarian of our age who has made significant contributions to furthering peace. 

A Room of My Own addressed the issues of woman and creativity by focusing on how cultural structures and strictures, repressive of women, could become dynamic and inspiring resources for female creativity. 

The title of my project, “A room of My Own,” was inspired by Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One‘s Own “, in which Woolf stresses the significance of a room—a physical, private space—for a female artist to pursue her creativity. In my project, the idea of “a room” was akin to Woolf’s in the sense that it represented the space of creation that preconditioned female creativity. My project also used the motif of “a room” as a space imprisoning and repressing female creativity—a confining space in which Korean women were traditionally forced to stay to perform a variety of tasks, such as knitting, embroidery and waving. Furthermore, the room is symbolic of female body and the womb, which both envelopes and generates life.

Hence, “A Room of My Own” was the site in which tow completely opposite meaning of room coexisted and completed. The individual works placed in “a room,” such as “self-portrait,” “Effacement,” “confinement,” “Human Value”, and “Poom,” configured various features and movements of the female body in the creative(procreative) act.  

In terms of technique and material, I appropriated the valued craft techniques such as stitching and random wrapping. I utilized a variety of remnants of fabrics of clothing and threads.

Evert piece captured a form of women’s silencing and oppression. I attempted to speak not so much anger, regrets, sorrow, or resentment about the stricture of womanhood, but rather of healing, recovering, and the inner joy attained through converting oppressive conditions into stimulating and dynamic resources for female creativity.