In SEJIN KIM’s video-based practice, the recurring theme revolves around the intricate relationship between individuals and larger societal structures. Her subject matter ranges from individual resistance or conformity towards society, to mobility and migration, and the modern-day interaction with digital technology. Through this expansive exploration of themes, she adeptly conveys the multi-layered relationship between contemporary society and the individuals within. Her works tend to intentionally lack explicit plots or narratives, blending the reality and virtual through diverse techniques and installation methods, symbolically and synthetically highlighting the essence of her subjects. With Radar, Kim shares her interest in the lives of those often marginalized by today’s societal systems.
Sejin Kim is the recipient of the 16th SongEun Art Award in 2016 and has presented solo exhibitions at esteemed venues including SongEun Art Space in Seoul (2019), Culture Station Seoul 284 (2014), Prism Gallery in Istanbul (2015), Nabi Art Center in Seoul (2011), and Kumho Museum of Art in Seoul (2006).
You’ve spent quite some time in the UK since you were in graduate school. I’d first like to ask if there were any changes in terms of your subjects during your time abroad, especially considering your interest in immigrants or foreigners. Does this interest stem from your firsthand experience living in a different country?
Living abroad completely changes the circumstances of your life. It indeed affects how one perceives the surrounding society. My experiences have made me realize that what we call social identity is something very fluid and malleable, rather than permanent. For example, throughout my life, I’ve been an ordinary, stable middle-class woman in Korea, but in foreign country, I become a subject of potential surveillance by the immigration office, someone who could become an illegal immigrant any time.
It’s intriguing how you’ve consistently expressed such interests through video works, while your undergraduate training is based on Eastern paintings. I’m curious to hear what sparked your interest in video as a medium and the process you underwent to master its technical aspects.
Korean painting was something I had been studying since I was a child, but as I went onto college, the reality I encountered was heavily impacted by a yearning for democracy, demanding art to reflect Korea’s sociopolitical reality. Meanwhile, I was looking for new media to break free from the constraints of traditional painting. It was during this period that I began exploring photography, which marked a departure from my major. I went on to self-teach the techniques of video production, 3D motions graphics, and more. Then I went to graduate school to study in film production and was able to gain further insights into video production, which now can be found in my works.
![Sejin Kim, Green Flash, 2020. 6 Channel FHD Video, 6 Channel Sound in a Circular Space. 6' 30”. Courtesy of the artist and MMCA]()
I see. I’d like to hear more about the subjects of your interest and how those techniques are applied to capture them. One recurring theme in your work seems to be the portrayal of individuals within systems, regulations, or urban communities. Could you possibly provide a bit more explanation on this?
In contemporary society, our surroundings are deeply intertwined with urban environments. We navigate a world governed by man-made systems and regulations that dictate our actions. What fascinates me is how individuals respond to these constraints and norms, whether they resist or conform, and the resulting dynamics. My aim is to construct narratives that explore the social and historical contexts shaping these phenomena.
To be more specific, the attitude of the individuals towards resistance or acceptance is meant to be fluid and organic, mirroring global changes. An ambivalent stance seems inevitable when viewed within the context of societal evolution—societies change, technology advances, and generations transition.
'Movement and migration' stand out as important keywords in your work. In recent years, just as you mentioned, technological advancements have facilitated our communication with others without the need for physical travel. Especially since the onset of the pandemic, practices such as remote work, video conferencing, and virtual reality have become the “new normal”. What are your thoughts on these transitions?
I wonder if the term “new normal” is nothing more than just a creation of the media. As always, significant changes take time to fully integrate into our daily lives, affecting us on both physical and mental levels. However, as our world increasingly flattens into screens and devices, it seems that while our physical mobility may have expanded, our perception of the world has narrowed due to our dependence on centralized control and regulations.
![Sejin Kim, Messenger(s), 2019. 2-channel 3D motion graphic video on each OLED & LED Monitor, stereo sound, and LED lights. 10 min 25 sec. Courtesy of the artist]()
![Sejin Kim, Messenger(s), 2019. 2-channel 3D motion graphic video on each OLED & LED Monitor, stereo sound, and LED lights. 10 min 25 sec. Courtesy of the artist]()
![Sejin Kim, Installation view of Messenger(s), 2019. Courtesy of the artist]()
I’ve sometimes thought that small screens offer easy access to previously inaccessible world. I suppose one could view it that way too. Meanwhile, your body of works covers a wide array of subjects, ranging from the escalating conflict between countries over Antarctica in 2048 (2019) to the janitors at the National Museum of Modern Art in Urban Hermit (2016). I'm curious about your process for selecting these subjects and how you conduct research on them. When it involves fields beyond your expertise, do you consult with professionals in those industries?
I would describe my approach more as focusing on what ‘bothers’ me rather than specifically ‘choosing’ my subjects. It might be an artist's intuition, but when something captures my attention, I start delving into intense, thorough research. If I feel the need for expert opinion, I then seek out advice from professionals. I have to say that I do try to approach each project differently to prevent the process from becoming standardized or uniform.
You worked at an advertising company and also have experience creating lengthy films, which typically unfold at a slower pace. However, your works as an artist seem to focus less on a structured plot or narrative.
As films aimed for more realistic portrayals of life, the dramatic features of the genre began to be more emphasized. When I started getting preoccupied with movies, I came across a variety of elements other than drama, such as camera movement, lighting, music, and sound, all of which contribute to a compelling narrative. I embraced visual language as a means to understand films, and it continues to influence my artistic practice today.
![Sejin Kim, To the North for Nonexistence, 2019. Single channel FHD video, color, and stereo sound. 16 min 53 sec. Courtesy of the artist and SongEun Art Space]()
![Sejin Kim, Mosaic Transition, 2019. 2-channel video and 4-channel sound. 5 min 34 sec. Courtesy of the artist and SongEun Art Space]()
The presentation and installation of your video installation seem to be as important as the content of videos themselves. Take To the North for Nonexistence (2019), for instance, which diverges from the standard horizontal screen ratio by extending far horizontally. Mosaic Transition (2019), on the other hand, unfolds across two vertically combined screens. Also, the use of multi-channel video techniques or colored lighting to illuminate the exhibition space is often found. In a way, it feels like a means of creating synesthetic installations. Are there any particular aspects you want viewers to take away from your work? How is each installation connected to the content of the work?
To the North for Nonexistence depicts the conflict between the traditional identity of indigenous people in the polar regions and modern society. It serves as a metaphor for our existence in a time where we can travel yet still struggle to perceive the bigger picture. The work portrays a Nordic winter landscape, where the protagonist searches for a place to live, on a longer-than-normal aspect ratio. By using red lighting for the entire setting, I tried to symbolize the scarcity of the sun in the polar regions, which locals consider the center of life. Similarly, blue lighting in Messenger(s) (2019) represents ‘outer space’, the subject of humanity’s new territorial expansion and colonization.
Mosaic Transition takes the form of a two-channel video, resembling a single screen split into two vertical sections, like a cell phone aspect ratio. This installation explores our contemporary understanding of the world, both individually and collectively, within digital environment. By juxtaposing four speakers without synchronization with the screen, I aimed to illustrate the chaotic nature of our mosaic-like world and how we navigate information independently or collaboratively in this era of chaos.
![Sejin Kim, Urban Hermit, 2016. 2 Channel HD Video. 6 min 25 sec. Courtesy of the artist]()
Urban Hermit, on the other hand, depicts an actual cleaner who works at the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, Korea, portraying the individual as an anonymous person marginalized by the system. The museum staff appears on the screen until the last scene of the film, when she is then replaced by an actor. It felt as though the documentary nature of the film shifted to the theatrical. Was there a specific reason for featuring an actor in the final scene?
Film production presents various constraints that pose unique challenges. In the case of Urban Hermit, limited shooting time was allowed due to the museum being a public location. So I tried to efficiently capture the desired shots within the museum's timeframe, prioritize them, and refine them during the editing process. Since the museum staff primarily perform static tasks, such as standing still, no additional acting was necessary. However, when portraying the active movement of the 'cleaning worker' at the center of the video, a more symbolic representation was required rather than a simple portrayal of an individual. This led me to cast a professional actor for that role.
While most of your other works combine footage you shot with digital images and videos, Mosaic Transition is composed solely of open-source images and videos. This exclusive use of those images and videos found online reminds me of the recent controversies around deepfake and AI-generated images. With these technologies becoming increasingly accessible to the public, there is growing concern about their ethical implications. What are your thoughts on this?
From my understanding of history, certain periods mark milestone changes. Witnessing the dawn of the internet age in the early 2000s was personally a profoundly significant moment for me; it was as if a new world had opened up, a world that I couldn't fully understand. Recently, I feel like we're experiencing a similar period again. In a way, it seems to be a culmination of the fear—fear toward our future—that we all experienced during the pandemic, which has led us to seek certainty through technology. The use of new technology has always been risky and often straddles the fine line of ethics, but I believe that as time progresses, it will become a natural part of life once the transitional period subsides.
![Sejin Kim, 2048, 2019. 3 channel video, color, and stereo sound. 10 min 25 sec. Courtesy of the artist and SongEun Art Space]()
I found myself mesmerized by your unbounded ability to create new subjects when I saw 2048, a work based on your experience of visiting the King Sejong Station in Antarctica. The place has always been portrayed as a sort of mythical, often inaccessible destination for most people. What was your experience like? How did it influence your work?
Among the countless places I’ve visited, Antarctica is undoubtedly one of the most unique places, which I guess is due to its remote and somewhat inaccessible location. The reason I wanted to go there was mainly because of the geopolitical significance of the region. However, the actual landscape was somewhat less enchanting in person than the magical portrayal often seen online; it resembled desolate volcanic islands more than anything else. The harsh climate conditions, including strong winds and extreme temperatures, limited mobility and prevented me from fully appreciating the landscapes. As a result, I naturally found myself more interested in indoor activities within the station and engaging in conversations with scientists and engineers.
These elements were predominantly reflected in 2048, a story about a virtual territory called G, based on true facts about Antarctica, weaving together actual footage taken during my time in Antarctica. The video concludes with a narrative that recounts an anecdote about a real-life aspiring scientist, serving as a subtle narration that highlights the disparity between the 'ideal' and the 'reality' that I wanted to explore. Although unknown to the public, I aimed to illustrate the inception of the never-realized 'ideal' dreamt by the aspiring scientist—the ambition that eventually ended up in Antarctica. I wanted to portray the place as a symbol of humanity's perpetual pursuit of the ideal. Combining actual location footage with fictional scenarios was one method I used to achieve this.
It's truly remarkable how video as a medium allows for the exploration of such multifaceted themes through diverse directorial techniques. Despite the constant evolution of subjects, do you have any guiding, essential principle as an artist?
I may not have a specific, single philosophy, but I believe it’s essential to maintain a certain distance from all objects and phenomena. I try to do so by regularly immersing myself in abundant news and fictions.
Sejin Kim is the recipient of the 16th SongEun Art Award in 2016 and has presented solo exhibitions at esteemed venues including SongEun Art Space in Seoul (2019), Culture Station Seoul 284 (2014), Prism Gallery in Istanbul (2015), Nabi Art Center in Seoul (2011), and Kumho Museum of Art in Seoul (2006).
You’ve spent quite some time in the UK since you were in graduate school. I’d first like to ask if there were any changes in terms of your subjects during your time abroad, especially considering your interest in immigrants or foreigners. Does this interest stem from your firsthand experience living in a different country?
Living abroad completely changes the circumstances of your life. It indeed affects how one perceives the surrounding society. My experiences have made me realize that what we call social identity is something very fluid and malleable, rather than permanent. For example, throughout my life, I’ve been an ordinary, stable middle-class woman in Korea, but in foreign country, I become a subject of potential surveillance by the immigration office, someone who could become an illegal immigrant any time.
It’s intriguing how you’ve consistently expressed such interests through video works, while your undergraduate training is based on Eastern paintings. I’m curious to hear what sparked your interest in video as a medium and the process you underwent to master its technical aspects.
Korean painting was something I had been studying since I was a child, but as I went onto college, the reality I encountered was heavily impacted by a yearning for democracy, demanding art to reflect Korea’s sociopolitical reality. Meanwhile, I was looking for new media to break free from the constraints of traditional painting. It was during this period that I began exploring photography, which marked a departure from my major. I went on to self-teach the techniques of video production, 3D motions graphics, and more. Then I went to graduate school to study in film production and was able to gain further insights into video production, which now can be found in my works.
I see. I’d like to hear more about the subjects of your interest and how those techniques are applied to capture them. One recurring theme in your work seems to be the portrayal of individuals within systems, regulations, or urban communities. Could you possibly provide a bit more explanation on this?
In contemporary society, our surroundings are deeply intertwined with urban environments. We navigate a world governed by man-made systems and regulations that dictate our actions. What fascinates me is how individuals respond to these constraints and norms, whether they resist or conform, and the resulting dynamics. My aim is to construct narratives that explore the social and historical contexts shaping these phenomena.
To be more specific, the attitude of the individuals towards resistance or acceptance is meant to be fluid and organic, mirroring global changes. An ambivalent stance seems inevitable when viewed within the context of societal evolution—societies change, technology advances, and generations transition.
'Movement and migration' stand out as important keywords in your work. In recent years, just as you mentioned, technological advancements have facilitated our communication with others without the need for physical travel. Especially since the onset of the pandemic, practices such as remote work, video conferencing, and virtual reality have become the “new normal”. What are your thoughts on these transitions?
I wonder if the term “new normal” is nothing more than just a creation of the media. As always, significant changes take time to fully integrate into our daily lives, affecting us on both physical and mental levels. However, as our world increasingly flattens into screens and devices, it seems that while our physical mobility may have expanded, our perception of the world has narrowed due to our dependence on centralized control and regulations.
Swipe to see more images
I’ve sometimes thought that small screens offer easy access to previously inaccessible world. I suppose one could view it that way too. Meanwhile, your body of works covers a wide array of subjects, ranging from the escalating conflict between countries over Antarctica in 2048 (2019) to the janitors at the National Museum of Modern Art in Urban Hermit (2016). I'm curious about your process for selecting these subjects and how you conduct research on them. When it involves fields beyond your expertise, do you consult with professionals in those industries?
I would describe my approach more as focusing on what ‘bothers’ me rather than specifically ‘choosing’ my subjects. It might be an artist's intuition, but when something captures my attention, I start delving into intense, thorough research. If I feel the need for expert opinion, I then seek out advice from professionals. I have to say that I do try to approach each project differently to prevent the process from becoming standardized or uniform.
You worked at an advertising company and also have experience creating lengthy films, which typically unfold at a slower pace. However, your works as an artist seem to focus less on a structured plot or narrative.
As films aimed for more realistic portrayals of life, the dramatic features of the genre began to be more emphasized. When I started getting preoccupied with movies, I came across a variety of elements other than drama, such as camera movement, lighting, music, and sound, all of which contribute to a compelling narrative. I embraced visual language as a means to understand films, and it continues to influence my artistic practice today.
Swipe to see more images
The presentation and installation of your video installation seem to be as important as the content of videos themselves. Take To the North for Nonexistence (2019), for instance, which diverges from the standard horizontal screen ratio by extending far horizontally. Mosaic Transition (2019), on the other hand, unfolds across two vertically combined screens. Also, the use of multi-channel video techniques or colored lighting to illuminate the exhibition space is often found. In a way, it feels like a means of creating synesthetic installations. Are there any particular aspects you want viewers to take away from your work? How is each installation connected to the content of the work?
To the North for Nonexistence depicts the conflict between the traditional identity of indigenous people in the polar regions and modern society. It serves as a metaphor for our existence in a time where we can travel yet still struggle to perceive the bigger picture. The work portrays a Nordic winter landscape, where the protagonist searches for a place to live, on a longer-than-normal aspect ratio. By using red lighting for the entire setting, I tried to symbolize the scarcity of the sun in the polar regions, which locals consider the center of life. Similarly, blue lighting in Messenger(s) (2019) represents ‘outer space’, the subject of humanity’s new territorial expansion and colonization.
Mosaic Transition takes the form of a two-channel video, resembling a single screen split into two vertical sections, like a cell phone aspect ratio. This installation explores our contemporary understanding of the world, both individually and collectively, within digital environment. By juxtaposing four speakers without synchronization with the screen, I aimed to illustrate the chaotic nature of our mosaic-like world and how we navigate information independently or collaboratively in this era of chaos.
Urban Hermit, on the other hand, depicts an actual cleaner who works at the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, Korea, portraying the individual as an anonymous person marginalized by the system. The museum staff appears on the screen until the last scene of the film, when she is then replaced by an actor. It felt as though the documentary nature of the film shifted to the theatrical. Was there a specific reason for featuring an actor in the final scene?
Film production presents various constraints that pose unique challenges. In the case of Urban Hermit, limited shooting time was allowed due to the museum being a public location. So I tried to efficiently capture the desired shots within the museum's timeframe, prioritize them, and refine them during the editing process. Since the museum staff primarily perform static tasks, such as standing still, no additional acting was necessary. However, when portraying the active movement of the 'cleaning worker' at the center of the video, a more symbolic representation was required rather than a simple portrayal of an individual. This led me to cast a professional actor for that role.
While most of your other works combine footage you shot with digital images and videos, Mosaic Transition is composed solely of open-source images and videos. This exclusive use of those images and videos found online reminds me of the recent controversies around deepfake and AI-generated images. With these technologies becoming increasingly accessible to the public, there is growing concern about their ethical implications. What are your thoughts on this?
From my understanding of history, certain periods mark milestone changes. Witnessing the dawn of the internet age in the early 2000s was personally a profoundly significant moment for me; it was as if a new world had opened up, a world that I couldn't fully understand. Recently, I feel like we're experiencing a similar period again. In a way, it seems to be a culmination of the fear—fear toward our future—that we all experienced during the pandemic, which has led us to seek certainty through technology. The use of new technology has always been risky and often straddles the fine line of ethics, but I believe that as time progresses, it will become a natural part of life once the transitional period subsides.
I found myself mesmerized by your unbounded ability to create new subjects when I saw 2048, a work based on your experience of visiting the King Sejong Station in Antarctica. The place has always been portrayed as a sort of mythical, often inaccessible destination for most people. What was your experience like? How did it influence your work?
Among the countless places I’ve visited, Antarctica is undoubtedly one of the most unique places, which I guess is due to its remote and somewhat inaccessible location. The reason I wanted to go there was mainly because of the geopolitical significance of the region. However, the actual landscape was somewhat less enchanting in person than the magical portrayal often seen online; it resembled desolate volcanic islands more than anything else. The harsh climate conditions, including strong winds and extreme temperatures, limited mobility and prevented me from fully appreciating the landscapes. As a result, I naturally found myself more interested in indoor activities within the station and engaging in conversations with scientists and engineers.
These elements were predominantly reflected in 2048, a story about a virtual territory called G, based on true facts about Antarctica, weaving together actual footage taken during my time in Antarctica. The video concludes with a narrative that recounts an anecdote about a real-life aspiring scientist, serving as a subtle narration that highlights the disparity between the 'ideal' and the 'reality' that I wanted to explore. Although unknown to the public, I aimed to illustrate the inception of the never-realized 'ideal' dreamt by the aspiring scientist—the ambition that eventually ended up in Antarctica. I wanted to portray the place as a symbol of humanity's perpetual pursuit of the ideal. Combining actual location footage with fictional scenarios was one method I used to achieve this.
It's truly remarkable how video as a medium allows for the exploration of such multifaceted themes through diverse directorial techniques. Despite the constant evolution of subjects, do you have any guiding, essential principle as an artist?
I may not have a specific, single philosophy, but I believe it’s essential to maintain a certain distance from all objects and phenomena. I try to do so by regularly immersing myself in abundant news and fictions.
© 2024 Radar