Gwangju Biennale becomes watery feast for eyes and ears

Taking cues from Korean woodcut techqniues and their critical role in documenting democratic movements of the past, Malaysian collective Pangrok Sulap reinterprets similar images depicting collective resistance with fabric at the 14th edition of the Gwangju Biennale. The biennale, which consists of the central exhibition curated by artistic director Lee Sook-kyung and the national pavilion section, runs through July 9 in Korea's southwestern city. Yonhap
Taking cues from Korean woodcut techqniues and their critical role in documenting democratic movements of the past, Malaysian collective Pangrok Sulap reinterprets similar images depicting collective resistance with fabric at the 14th edition of the Gwangju Biennale. The biennale, which consists of the central exhibition curated by artistic director Lee Sook-kyung and the national pavilion section, runs through July 9 in Korea's southwestern city. Yonhap

Fluid and pliable, water yields to whatever change comes its way, ready to take on any form at all times. Its ability to embrace even seemingly impossible contradictions is what ultimately makes it an irresistible force of change.

Perhaps it was only natural for this year's Gwangju Biennale, inspired by the chapter of a classical Chinese Daoist text that speaks of the transformative and embracive power of water, to be greeted by pouring rain during its opening ceremony held in Korea's southwestern city last week.

Helmed by artistic director Lee Sook-kyung, senior curator of international art at London's Tate Modern, the 14th edition of Asia's longest-running survey of contemporary art uses "soft and weak" water as a glue to invite 79 artists who each strive to offer alternative views of history, breathe life into near-forgotten traditions or envision the future of humanity's relationship with nature.

The result is a tightly organized show that becomes a watery feast for both the eyes and ears

At "Soft and Weak like Water," water, both real and digital, flows everywhere ― the main Gwangju Biennale Exhibition Hall, Gwangju National Museum, Mugak Temple, Horanggasy Artpolygon and Artspace House.

Buhlebezwe Siwani's multimedia piece, unfurled at the exhibition hall as an overture of the biennale, is born from her practice as a "sangoma," or a spiritual healer in South Africa. Her three-channel video installation, "The Spirits Descend," surrounded by aromatic soil and vine-like wool ropes that take cues from the belts worn by Zion church members, is submerged in a clear pool of water, adding a poetic layer of blurriness to the filmed bodily performance.

In "Midden," Alan Michelson projects footage taken from two waterways in New York ― the landscape that used to house ancient shell mounds left by Indigenous people ― onto a pile of oyster shells sourced from the Korean city of Tongyeong in South Gyeongsang Province.

Such retrieval of muted histories through water continues in Taiki Sakpisit's "The Spirit Level," where the filmmaker zooms in on the Mekong River that is layered with decades of brutal political history and trauma of Thailand
For a select group of creators, remaining in direct dialogue with the artistic tradition and spirit of Gwangju, the city that witnessed the 1980 pro-democracy uprising against the military dictatorship, forms a key part of their pieces on view.

Taking inspiration from Korean woodcut printing techniques and their critical role in documenting past democratic movements, the Malaysian collective Pangrok Sulap reinterprets similar images depicting collective resistance with fabrics from the present.

Aliza Nisenbaum paints portraits of performers from the city's theater group, Shin-myeong. The bright pop-art-like colors and patterns are ironically employed on canvas to portray the understated tragedy of the group's performance, "Someday in Spring," staged in remembrance of those who lost their lives during the uprising.

But artistic director Lee highlighted that "Soft and Weak like Water" is not seeking to narrow its focus only to art that has a direct connection with the host city's history.

"Rather, the spirit of Gwangju serves more as a starting point for us to invite stories of injustice, oppression and resistance that have emerged all around the world," she said during last week's press conference. "When these similar tales are brought together in one place, a sense of solidarity and hope can be formed."

As a result, distinct stories of marginalization materialize in every corner of the exhibition venues ― Kim Soun-gui's stirring "Poems," where female high school students recite poems by underrepresented female writers of the 1392-1910 Joseon Kingdom; Christine Sun Kim's "Every Life Signs," which conveys the subtle nuances of American Sign Language; Mayunkiki's "Sikuma," where the artist draws on her identity as a creator of Ainu descent, an Indigenous population of Japan; and Guadalupe Maravilla's "Disease Throwers," which generates therapeutic sound to bring to light how the systemic abuse of undocumented immigrants physically manifests in their displaced bodies
Only after recognizing the tales of the marginalized can humans strive together to envision a future marked by solidarity and coexistence with all beings on Earth ― however bizarre they are.

One of those uncanny visions unfolds in the basement of Horanggasy Artpolygon, awash with black light. Occupying the surreal, mirrored rooms are Anne Duk Hee Jordan's strange robotic sculptures: a moving eye, a crawling brain, an octopus garden and a barnacle reduced to its phallic-shaped form, among others. Seeing their mirrored reflections overlap with creatures on display, viewers are encouraged to imagine a future where human and non-human techno-agents mingle seamlessly.

The entanglement of the living and non-living is also explored in the sculptural work of Sopheap Pich. He adorns the outdoor garden of the Gwangju National Museum with his shimmering trees made out of hammered panels of recycled aluminum. From afar, they look surprisingly lifelike, even while standing next to their living counterparts
Only after recognizing the tales of the marginalized can humans strive together to envision a future marked by solidarity and coexistence with all beings on Earth ― however bizarre they are.

One of those uncanny visions unfolds in the basement of Horanggasy Artpolygon, awash with black light. Occupying the surreal, mirrored rooms are Anne Duk Hee Jordan's strange robotic sculptures: a moving eye, a crawling brain, an octopus garden and a barnacle reduced to its phallic-shaped form, among others. Seeing their mirrored reflections overlap with creatures on display, viewers are encouraged to imagine a future where human and non-human techno-agents mingle seamlessly.

The entanglement of the living and non-living is also explored in the sculptural work of Sopheap Pich. He adorns the outdoor garden of the Gwangju National Museum with his shimmering trees made out of hammered panels of recycled aluminum. From afar, they look surprisingly lifelike, even while standing next to their living counterparts
With "Soft and Weak like Water," Lee suggests how art can come together to produce transnational ― or even planetary ― communities that intimately share the spirit of resistance as well as visions about a sustainable future.

Such a message reverberated more strongly than ever throughout the rain-soaked city of Gwangju in the first week of April.

Biennale's new award, expanded national pavilion section

This year's Gwangju Biennale is not masking its ambitions to raise its profile in the international art scene, adding several noteworthy changes to its run that arguably take cues from its much older and larger counterpart in Venice.

The biennale announced the launch of the Park Seo-bo Art Prize ― dubbed the Golden Dove, reminiscent of the Venice Biennale's Golden Lion ― with a goal to recognize one artist whose work reflects the show's founding spirit and values through 2042.

The inaugural $100,000 award, funded by the eponymous "dansaekhwa" (monochrome painting) master and his GIZI Foundation, went to Korean artist Oum Jeong-soon for her "Elephant without Trunk."