ricechest — SOL KANG

Support _ 2024 ≪한국판화거래소≫, 상상마당, 서울

《𝙄 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙩, 𝙄 𝙪𝙣𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙩, 𝙄 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙩》
장소: 홍익대학교 홍문관 현대미술관 제1전시실
기간: 07.19(금) – 08.10(토) (휴무 없음)
시간: 10:00 - 18:00

기획: 디비판화작업실(박상아, 조율)
주최/주관: 디비판화작업실 @db_print
후원: 문화체육관광부, (재)예술경영지원센터, 미술품 대여사업협력: 산타피아, 호미화방, 팩토리

뒤주, 2024. Silkscreen and cyanotype on old wardrobe, 80 x 40 x 95 cm.

Voice_ 전영식 / Sound_ Minorichar

0

Although the magic hour passed several hours ago, the air, heated thoroughly during the day, still seems not fully cooled. This intersection leads directly to the subway gate, so around this time of year, you can see children and adults walking sluggishly downhill, wearing expressions both weary and somehow refreshed. In the corner food stall, young people, dressed up but still looking half-asleep, are having a late breakfast. It seems it will start to get crowded in an hour or two.

Let’s shift our gaze to the alley nearby. Projected near the trash bin, there’s a round screen at your feet.

With pictograms, the words inside the circle rotate at regular intervals:

A city where dreams gather - Keep right.

Avoid using your smartphone.

No running or pushing.

Use the main street.

Just a few steps from here is where we had our crossroads. The traffic light must allow us to cross this crosswalk, but it stubbornly remained red, showing no sign of changing.

So what do you think of me?

… You’re a good person.

After your vague answer to my silly question, you wrapped yourself in silence like camouflage, protecting your refusal.
I wanted to dash across the street right away, but I stood frozen, staring at the traffic light.

1

"Failed again today. I’ve tried several times, but it seems the passage didn’t open, so I couldn’t cross to the other side."

"A, are you talking about that passage again? To go meet that older sister?"

"Yeah, yeah. So I did some research, and if you collect seven lizard tails, you can bypass Ananti’s interference and pass through the passage."

"Lizards? Why lizards of all things?"

"Lizards cut off their tails and escape, right? They don’t have eyes or a heart, but they essentially create another version of themselves. It’s a perfect fit for parallel universes."

"So, how many lizards have to feel threatened enough to lose their tails because of this older sister?"

A didn’t answer. But with a truly regretful expression, she looked at the scenery below the railing. It’s always like this. Whenever I express fundamental doubts about what A says, she acts as if she’s stopped thinking or as if she didn’t hear my question at all. The world A believes in is firm. Or perhaps, she’s the one desperately trying to keep standing a world more like a sandcastle than a fortress.

I wasn’t invited into that sandcastle.

Nor can I knock it down. I just linger around it.

Yet, this rooftop, with its sweeping view, is the only place where A shares her innermost thoughts with me. Her recent obsession seems to be the narrow sidewalk leading toward the rotary. To cross into the world where she can meet that older sister, A is willing to do anything. Even if it seems strange.

Maybe, in truth, this is all my fault. I once talked about the multiverse, a common theme in superhero stories, and mentioned that there might be a universe somewhere where I chose a different answer than I did here. Even if belief in such alternatives doesn’t change the reality I exist in, I thought perhaps it might help A relieve a bit of the emotional burden she carries for her sister.

But contrary to my expectations, A borrowed every book about parallel universes that she could somewhat understand from the library, and after a few days of intense reading, she gave up on truly understanding them. The issue is that her belief in the possibility of crossing into another world began branching off in a strange direction.

The organization A calls "Ananti" is a convenient tool in her storytelling. Every failure of hers is attributed to Ananti's interference. Apparently, the main reason she couldn’t pass through the last passage was due to the signal jamming Ananti sent. I told her that this was just an illusion created by the old building we easily occupy and A’s cheap telecom service provider, but pointing out the illusion didn’t seem to help much in dealing with failure.

What is the imaginary lizard tail that A has conjured this time? I can’t help but assist her. At least A is trying to pass through the passage. While I was learning how to remain silent in my sadness, A was finding a way to endure the erasure of her sister. The severed tail of the story wriggles on the ground. Just like A, I too wish to undo what can’t be changed, to turn back the spilled water, and so, I don’t bother making the pathetic argument that she can never find her sister.

쓰다듬기, 2024. Mixed media on clay, 41 x 32 cm *4.

0.

I don't like the word "busy." If you wanted to meet me, you could have just spent a little more time, right? Maybe it’s something that could’ve been fixed by sleeping a little less. When people say they’re too busy to meet, I can't help but think it might just mean they don’t want to stay up all night to see you. It makes me hesitate even more before saying anything. Diligence is the only thing I can control. If I want to avoid repeating the same mistakes, all I can do is pray more earnestly.

A group of young people is speeding down the highway in a van, which is transparent from all sides, even the roof and floor. It’s evening, and the streetlights' glow sticks to their faces and then peels away, again and again. The van, with its grimy windows, is so old and bulky, and so transparent, that it feels like it's warping through space. In the trunk are several paper shopping bags, filled with "something." It seems to be moving, but the streetlights are too dim and yellow for me to see clearly. Yet, I know what it is—lizard tails. Perhaps there’s some kind of radar that only people who've failed to find paradise after fleeing can detect.

Soon, they pull into the city, somewhere between the atmosphere of Gyo-dae and Isu subway stations. We both know this: when the roaring subway stops and the doors open, those headed to Mars turn left, while those going to Venus turn right, searching for the transfer gate. And they'll never understand each other.

I shouldn’t have gone against you.

It happened to fall on a day during rush hour, when everything was chaotic. You said I had to be the third person in line to cut in. You told me that as long as we kept that signal between the two of us, even if we lost each other's hands, we would find each other again. But, sadly, I was already too late. It's the kind of problem that should have been decided long ago, even before we were inside the creature's belly.

Shall we go above ground?

To hide at the spot where the van is parked, we need to climb five sets of stairs and exit through the fifth gate. The glowing signboards, shining in five different colors, light up the night. Some buildings have gone to sleep, but they left the hallway lights on. I look inside from the outside. There’s a sweet sense of despair.
I think there was a scene in a book I read as a child where a character longed to eat peach preserves. Yes, if what's in their shopping bags are those vivid lizard tails, then this is more like peach preserves. Have you ever felt like an unexplainable emotion, or perhaps a heavy weight, was slicing me finely and pressing into those cuts? As the thick emotion seeps through the spaces between my fingertips, I feel like I’m pickling in this new feeling, and the old me is being soaked in through osmosis. If I focus intently enough on the sensation, I think I could even hear a sound. Since I was a child, when I knew far fewer words, I’ve always been curious about the exact name of this feeling. Now, I've only managed to slot in “peach preserves” as a similar substitute. But no word ever seems to fit perfectly. That’s why that day, all I could say to you was that it felt like this place was eerily similar to the place where I’d ended a previous life.
I can’t remember what you said in response. But one thing remains vivid to me—you looked angry by the end of that conversation.

You're only seeing what you want to see, so how can you be sure whether that's the sun or the moon?

Oh. Yes, you're right. There's not much time left. With a frozen mind, I must follow the world’s busiest person and move my feet. I scold myself, saying it’s time to focus on reality, and I chase after the young people again.

The downtown area is pretty big, but compared to its usual size, this early morning feels quiet, considering how crowded it usually is. At the entrance to an alley, the sign reads “Smooth Traffic.” Good news for the four friends, but bad news for me. They each take a couple of shopping bags filled with "something" from the trunk and blend into the evening crowd, quietly stashing the bags in hidden corners. Among the bustling crowd, those shopping bags look perfectly natural. Will they regroup? It doesn't matter. I will gather the tails faster than they can cut them off. The world only calls something a prayer according to someone’s whim. The only thing I lack compared to them is that old van they ride in.

They pass through the toll gate again.

Even at night, the toll gate is bathed in bright lights, which sting my eyes with their scattered glow. Now, it’s time to enter the tunnel. The speed bumps on the road make a gust-like sound. The streetlights' glow sticks to them and falls away, over and over, and the speed keeps increasing. I pick up the paper bag they left behind and put spores into my precious jar of preserves. If only it could become a fine wine, I would’ve been able to offer it to you. Had I done that, maybe you would have stayed. But instead, I have slowly rotted away, not even knowing where it all went wrong. Yes, the words I spat out, the spilled water, the failed wine. If I could turn back time, how could I not?

I must get myself a van as fast as theirs.