Two Rivers, Crossed Landscape: Artist Talk
The Korean Cultural Centre in Ottawa is home to a transforming gallery space that never quite looks the same way twice. Over the last four years as an Honorary Reporter I’ve visited a dozen or so exhibits there, and though I’ve loved all the art presented— from short films to historical clothing —I have to say that I have never experienced anything quite like Two Rivers, Crossed Landscape by Korean artist Lee Yeonsook (이연숙) and Canadian artist Chris Myhr.
Sometimes I find art shows intimidating, because I think to myself: what if I’m too dumb to understand, because I’m not an artist? And admittedly, when I first arrived at the gallery reception on July 17, I walked in with my shoulders up and notebook clutched to my chest.
But then I stepped into the exhibit and all of that melted away – instead I was consumed in a soothing yet evocative (and totally immersive) sensory experience.
Since Two Rivers, Crossed Landscape was specifically imagined, designed, and built for the KCC’s Call for Curators Exhibition Series (I can officially now say I witnessed an exhibit’s world debut!), I’m not sure if any of you reading this will get to see it for yourselves, and my words won’t do it justice, but I’ll do my best to describe it.
Note: I can’t believe I have to say this in 2023 and that I have to say it to adults, but if you are visiting a gallery, please make sure you DO NOT TOUCH THE ART! Even if something isn’t guarded by velvet rope or a plexiglass box, there is no excuse to assume you can put your hands on it.
The installation was actually made up of several smaller components, all of which blended together seamlessly to create the overall effect. In the time before the Artists’ Talk began, I scooted around the gallery and examined each piece, then stepped back to try to take everything in as a collective.
(I may have also poked around the table of snacks before I was supposed to… but it’s not my fault! Choco-Pie and Custard Cream Cake are tied for my favorite Korean sweet, and Pepero is a close second. The temptation was just too great!)
Opening the talk was Curator Hyunju Yu (유현주), who posed the question you probably also have in your head right now: what do Canada and Korea have in common anyway?
From the outside our two countries seem extremely different, but— as I’ve learned over the last four years too —we actually have a lot in common. You just need to look beyond the superficial aspects; think instead about the spirit of our nations. So what in nature is the common symbol for this unique spirit we share?
Rivers.
Powerful creators of life and servants of destruction, the rushing Han and Niagara Rivers are key to the both countries’ formation (and evolution). No living thing survives without water and nothing can withstand the eventual ravage of its strength. Rivers shape land and carry important flora and fauna from one place to another – an eternal give and take.
“Countries have borders; nature does not.”
This phrase spoken by Hyunju Yu represent the critical message behind the artwork: we, as human beings, have to work together to address climate change. The matter is urgent and it requires change and collaboration from us all, because no matter how we divide up the land and focus on our differences, protecting and sustaining the Earth is a global responsibility. Honestly, those six words rang in my head the rest of the night.
Chris Myhr stepped up next to speak on the vision and the execution of his artwork.
With a bright smile and an infectious energy that deepened my appreciation of the installation, Chris spoke to how he wanted to use this opportunity to celebrate harmony between Canada and Korea.
The first piece was shown on a huge screen behind the speakers. I worried about not understanding the complex, abstract, rust-colored shapes bouncing around on a white background, but Chris gave a clear explanation of how he’d animated macro images of skin samples taken from marine life exposed to pollution poisoning. Though I’m no scientist, even I could tell how horrifically damaged the displayed cells are.
His installation of four smaller screens evoked emotional response through a visual medium. Each of the screens showed long, looped shots of the Great Lakes – looking out at the horizon, only water is visible in every shot.
Despite standing in a room full of other people, the time spent looking at these screens was serene, but also lonely; a reminder that we are such a small part of something much greater than any of us.
After the talks, we were treated to the auditory element of this piece, which was the sound of bubbling and rushing water taken from the Han River. There were also occasional mysterious metallic noises, later revealed to be the creaks and groans of a bridge. Through sound alone, we experienced an intersection of nature and manmade materials.
Speaking of manmade materials: in keeping with the theme of raising social consciousness, Chris’ side display for the installation was a sculpture series; abstract shapes (all bigger than both my fists put together) colored black with a gold-ish hue. At first I guessed they were made from stone then decorated to represent pollution, but it turns out the truth of what they actually are is quite disturbing.
Titled “Ab-Solutes”, these black masses ARE pollution. Pulled from Lake Erie, they are solidified pollutants which accumulated over time. They are what nature, even with its resilience, couldn’t manage to digest.
Sadly, humans selfishly contributed to the environment’s destruction for so long, we’ve reached the point where nature can no longer heal itself fast enough to keep up.
Lee Yeonsook addressed this at the beginning of her talk. She relayed a story about how she spent much of her childhood playing in the mighty Han River, but as time passed contamination levels from human pollution got worse and worse, and by the time she’d reached her twenties the entire river had been condemned by the government..
As a kid I was lucky to go to a cottage every summer, and made many fond memories in the lake. Even though that cottage has now been sold, I would absolutely experience heartache if that body of water were to be poisoned (it’s already happening but not dire yet).
Yeonsook’s installation used a sensory component I had never before considered – scent. The light odor inside the gallery was sweet like candy, but definitely chemical, not natural. As it turns out, certain pollutants are the cause of various bizarre scents we experience in contaminated areas. Since smell is the sense most strongly associated with memory, the exhibit is meant to remind us to appreciate what the Earth has given us (things we enjoyed as children) and how fast we can lose it all. Future generations have already been robbed.
Just like we usually associate good things with sweet smells, we also tend to react in a positive manner to bright and beautiful colors, especially things that have forged good associations in our minds.
A set of three stunning photographs by the Korean artist had their color balances adjusted in various ways. They were the first thing I noticed and my eyes kept going back to these vibrant pictures all night. Yeonsook explained she played with the colors in such a way because, sadly, pollution often causes very beautiful-looking effects— think of a sunset, or a rainbow shimmer on the water —and we forget to consider what’s underneath this “beauty”.
For the same reason, a side display of rocks pulled from the Han River were painted extremely bright, eye-catching colors. Just because something is nice on the surface, we must always remember to take a look at what’s really going on inside.
The key installation of this show was a combined piece. I was saving my opinion on this main attraction of Two Rivers, Crossed Landscape for last, because it’s the thing I’m least confident about explaining in words, and it wasn’t even really able to be captured on camera.
In order to show how sustainable our world could be if we tried, Yeonsook created the work “Vanished Landscape From Void Space”, which was made up of huge strips of recycled fabric hanging from the ceiling. And this wasn’t just any recycled material – she found a way to turn plastic bottles (that she’d collected from riverbanks) into beautiful, delicate fabric. To me it looked like the kind of stuff wedding dresses are made from.
Yeonsook remarked that she had a hard time finding a business who could process the bottles in such a way, but she was determined to prove that it could be done, and boy did she succeed! I hope in the future, different types of recycling are made more accessible.
Projected onto the flowing white sheets was “Alluvium (Undercurrent)” by Chris Myhr. Video taken of the Niagara and Han River systems, the Great Lakes, and other water systems in the Canadian North was assembled into a visual metaphor for equilibrium; the balance between humans and nature.
The combined elements came together in such a way that once you stepped up to (and even into, if you wanted) the piece, you really got a sense of being on a riverbank somewhere, or maybe in a low tide, listening to the soothing sounds of the water. Even if you never get to see this particular installment, I would highly, highly recommend attending any exhibit with the artwork of Lee Yeonsook and/or Chris Myhr.
I am, as always, so grateful to the KCC and The Embassy of the Republic of Korea for giving us the chance to experience such a unique form of art. I’d also like the extend my appreciation to Curator Hyunju Yu (유현주) and Lee Yeonsook (이연숙) for coming all the way to Ottawa from Korea. Thank you to all the staff and the artists for making this possible.