Seungwon Jung (b. 1992)

“Layers of Time”

EN/KO

Released on 31 Oct 2023
Featured in ep. 2

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Embodied in the work of Seungwon Jung is an organic relationship between fabric and photography. At first glance, the encounter of two elements—a process of manually unraveling and reconnecting fabric and a pixel, a basic unit of digital images—might seem like a combination of two contrasting, distinct factors. However, with her keen observation, Jung aptly captures the similarities within seemingly distinct materials and skillfully manifests 'the intangible' that may not be outwardly visible but clearly occupies a part of the space, both physically and conceptually. Her works originate from a moment in the artist's personal memory and have gradually evolved and expanded into the spatial and temporal dimensions of the Earth and nature.

Her works have been featured at the Coventry Biennale 2023, Coventry (2023); The Reference, Seoul (2023); Korean Cultural Centre UK, London (2022); and The Museum of Photography, Seoul (2021). She lives in the UK and actively works across Europe and Asia.



You came to the UK right after graduating from your undergrad. Has studying abroad always been part of your blueprint?

It’s already been seven years since I moved here. I studied photography as an undergraduate in Korea. The photography programs offered by many universities devote two years out of four to teaching professional techniques and theories. As a result, the curriculum focuses primarily on honing technical skills. While I fully understand the value of mastering these essential skills, I felt like I was critically lacking in exploring and building on my own artistic vision by the time I had to graduate. That's why I wanted to deepen my experience and study further after graduation.
                

Has your relocation influenced the way you view your surroundings or select subject matters for your work?

Looking back, I feel like the longer I spent by myself to adjust to the transition, the more I was able to reestablish time and space and reflect on myself. When I first arrived in London, I spent the entire first year simply observing what was around me. For me, in a way, that was a ‘period of deferral.’ It took me another one to two years to actually be able to feel the impact of relocation and new stimuli.


What were the subjects of observation?

In the beginning, it was mainly the architecture, the colors, the materials, and the objects in my everyday life. I then turned my attention to the people in the environment and the language they use—less in verbal communication but more in the grammatical and linguistic way that things are depicted and nuances are used across cultures. I am particularly intrigued by how people from different cultures focus on different aspects of the same object and use different styles of adjectives to modify it. This eventually led to a new approach to my work. It also enabled me to develop and deepen the narratives of my work that are conveyed to the audience.


In your previous interview, you mentioned experiencing ‘frustration with photography’ at some point. Was that disappointment stemming from photography as a medium itself?

I would describe it as more of a personal disappointment than frustration with the medium itself. While there are many talented artists who create great images, I never considered myself to be one of them. More than anything, I see photography as a three-dimensional form, but for me, my work felt flat, and I struggled to fully convey what I wanted to express. Then, I naturally began to contemplate the direction my work should take and, especially, which artistic medium, among the many available, could best deliver my story.
              


Sounds like you wanted to use photography not as the ultimate objective but more as a means. Still, it appears that photography remains an important primary source in your work. Do you usually use the photos that you took yourself for your work?

Yes, most of them. I tend to capture everyday moments with my mobile phone or camera, not just for my work but as part of my routine. The choice of images sometimes depends on the level of personal connection to the work. For example, Kyung Ae (2016), which is about my grandmother, consists of her photographs from old family albums as well as the pictures I took myself. On the other hand, Digital Strata (2018–19) is a research-based work, so I strictly held onto the images that I came across during the research, mainly from online or books.


Kyung Ae seems to be more personal than your other series, which are based on digital pixels and grids. I was particularly intrigued by the varying levels of complexity in the threads within each work, especially evident in the images of your grandmother in her youth.

I started Kyung Ae when I first found out that my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. I wanted to delve deeper into her life. During my research on the disease, I came across a test called a ‘clock-drawing test,’ which is often used to assess cognitive disorder and dementia. This test serves as a valuable tool in assessing the severity of dementia because it evaluates not only spatial and temporal construction abilities but also language comprehension. It includes abstract and numerical concepts and cognitive functions such as linguistic memory. As the condition progresses, the drawn clock shapes become more disorganized, and patients struggle with drawing numbers, the order, placement, and proportion of the clock hands. So basically, one can detect cognitive decline simply by examining the clock drawings.

After months of photographing and filming my grandmother and recording her voice, I thought of ways to incorporate these materials into my work. I started to create embroideries of clock shapes around the circular frames. I also started sewing directly onto her photographs as a way of involving my grandmother in the working process. I would show her the pictures one by one, asking her to grasp varying amounts of thread to reflect the level of intimacy she felt with each image. This physical act of holding the thread itself held significant meaning.

Alongside the portraits, I also documented her calendar, in which she meticulously kept records of her daily activities to prevent her memories from fading. She also kept notes of various objects she used every day. I then embroidered red threads on these pictures. All this embroidery work was done in the time and space I shared closely with her.



While Kyung Ae focuses on the time and spatial concept of one individual, Bark (2018) features elements of nature, which feels like an expanded range of topics. What caused such shift?

Bark is composed of sixty images of a single tree that I captured over a long period of time. I was particularly captivated by the concept of time while creating this series. When considering the interplay of time and space, I noticed that the emphasis frequently falls more heavily on time. This got me thinking about how different moments from different times intersect within a single space. I wanted to archive and convey this layering of time within one space, akin to the various strata of time accumulating at a specific location, much like the pins on Google Maps.

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What prompted you to explore the concept of time?

It was one of those days where my week was filled with very monotonous, repetitive moments. Every day, I would encounter the same tree on my way back home, and I naturally became interested in that tree. I wanted to create a work where somebody else would feel similarly intimate and have their own narrative in relation to this common, mundane object and space.  

I also came to deeply appreciate this tree that has thrived and survived in one location, shedding bark and gradually aging as time passes. So, I started to photograph and document it over the course of time in different moments, sort of as a study on the evolving surface of the tree.



I'm also curious about your work process and the materials you utilize. Simply put, your work appears to subjectively deconstruct the documentative, objective characteristics of photographic media. Do you place more focus on the archival, objective aspects of materials when gathering images of your work?

The texture of the space is emphasized and magnified to the point where the space in the picture can no longer be identified as a unique place with personal meanings attached. These images are then transferred onto fabric in order to evoke impressions and memories of space in the minds of viewers, making them relatable to anyone. Threads are then manually extracted, thread by thread, and partially disassembled. Consequently, threads are partially reassembled and reintegrated onto the surface.

The partially disassembled fabric gets installed on the wall in a new format with magnets, allowing the work to remain flexible and not entirely fixed. Although such way of installing requires a lot of caution and attention, I would like to continue such method as its flexibility is connected to the overarching themes of my work—the fragility and incompleteness of one’s memory.



In contrast to your other work, I noticed that the site-specific installation aspect and idea of abstraction were more prominent in Time Grid that you presented in 2018.

I gave a lot of thought to the digital image and fabric as a material when I was making this particular work, and hence the noticeable difference. While investigating its materiality, I became aware of the digital nature of fabric. Weaving is often seen as a traditional and analog technique. It is, indeed, an old technique with a long, profound history. However, when you look closer into the inner workings of weaving, you might notice its close relationship to the digital process. Just as 0 and 1 serve as the foundational units of digital communication, a loom operates based on two fundamental options: the upper and lower side directions. In fact, the jacquard loom from the 1800s is often referred to as a precursor to early computers. The punch cards used for the functioning of the first computer are identical to the punch cards used in the jacquard loom.

This made me realize that a technique commonly associated with analog methods is, in fact, one of the most digital and modern. I thought it would be interesting to integrate this unexpected realization into my work. Time Grid was a sort of experiment addressing the themes of time, space, and grids, which I later expanded on in Digital Strata.


Ranging from Kyung Ae, where you explored your personal time and space, to Memories Full of Forgetting and Digital Strata, which address the nature and geological concept of Earth’s space-time, it seems that the focus of your work has gradually expanded. From what I know, you’ve recently developed an interest in the environment and climate change. Could you elaborate on the motivations behind this recent interest?

Your perspective sometimes becomes broadened and, sometimes, honed down. My world and perspective had narrowed for the first two to three years throughout the pandemic, but recently, they have been gradually expanding again. Rather than solely focusing on the inner mind, I'd like to address both personal time/space and universal time/space, which might falsely appear as the direct opposite in the beginning.

I used to view my work with a sense of doubt, asking myself a question about whether it’d be too abstract to engage with this grand theme called time, which cannot be easily personalized or internalized. However, as I dug deeper into this broader theme, I realized that the production procedure—the act of artistic creation—itself became personal. Being the creator of the work, I realized my personal narrative gets naturally absorbed into the work as I work on it. I also found it fascinating to observe the time difference that arises from varying subjects or methods within a single work.

Exploring the concept of time enables us to gain a better understanding of life, a continuum that we all belong to. As an artist, I believe it is my responsibility to reshape my perspective and interpretation of time. Lately, I’ve been working on a new series that is centered on ecology and environmental consciousness. I believe that a work that ultimately focuses on the grand, broad context of time (as in nature) also, in a way, symbolizes a personal journey that uncovers my own personal narrative.

My goal is to create art that resonates with each audience on a personal level, transcending its theoretical narrative.