On (Be)Holding Life that Pulsates in Overlooked Places: Jahyun Park at Hapjungjigu

By Hayeon Lee

^{Published on September 3rd, 2024}

A few steps away from the bustling boulevard of Hapjung is Hapjungjigu—a small non-profit art space whose weighty presence far exceeds its physical size. On view is artist Jahyun Park’s haunting solo exhibition, I love my life.

From behind a glass wall, a giant portrait of a woman gazes out on the street of a quiet residential neighborhood. Her vacant eyes and dripping flesh cause a brief moment of discomfort. The second our eyes intertwine, I feel an urge to turn away, as if I’ve glimpsed something taboo. As I give in to this impulse, I’m struck with a sense of déjà vu.

1. Window view of I Love My Life, Jahyun Park’s Solo Exhibition at Hapjungjigu, Seoul, South Korea. February 16 - March 17, 2024. Work on View: Jahyun Park, I Love My Life, 2011. Photograph by Changmin Lee. Image courtesy of Hapjungjigu.

Upon entering the ground floor of the exhibition, I’m captivated by its walls densely populated with rows of small door drawings. Drawn with pencil on paper, works from the Yeongdeungpo (2024) and Uam-dong (2018) series depict small iron doors that are barely large enough for a person of average height to fit through.

The space in the drawings is cramped; it seems as if the doors have wedged themselves into the buildings, which are unlit and closed for business. No vitality is found here. The nature of the establishments behind these doors remains elusive. Only the white blankets hanging on clotheslines in Wanweol-dong (2021); heaps of abandoned cupboards and drawers in Jagalmadang (2023); and the voices of residents quoted in texts interspersed amongst the drawings hint at the many lives unfolding beyond these doors.

2. Installation view of I Love My Life, Jahyun Park’s Solo Exhibition at Hapjungjigu, Seoul, South Korea. February 16 - March 17, 2024. Photograph by Changmin Lee. Image courtesy of Hapjungjigu.

The source of déjà vu becomes clear upon noticing the rows of chairs lined up behind glass windows of the buildings in Wanweol-dong (2021). In a piece, two to four chairs are scattered across an empty room, accentuating its desolate atmosphere.

“Don’t go too far into that alley.”

Whispers of caution exchanged with friends echo in my mind, accompanied by memories of cheeks flushed with the thrill of broaching a forbidden subject. Cheonho-dong, a neighborhood in downtown Seoul where I spent time with friends in middle school, was also notorious for its jipchangchon. Just off the main street, down an alley, were establishments whose attempt at concealing what happened inside – by draping pink curtains over their large display windows – was betrayed by the rows of chairs that peeked out from behind.

Having seen reports on such places on the news, we knew that the chairs served as display stands for female workers. Betraying our curiosity about the people who occupied the chairs, we would hurry past – much like other passersby who charged forward as if they hadn’t seen anything.

Park stands as a witness to the vanishing places and people as she meticulously records them on paper.

Yeongdeungpo (2023), Mi-Ari (2023), Baekyang-daero (2021-2023), Jagalmadang (2023), and Uam-dong (2018) – the titles of Park’s series of door drawings are also the names of areas across cities in Korea like Seoul, Daegu, and Busan, where exploitative activities continue to happen out of sight. These districts have persisted despite prohibition laws implementd in 2004, disappearing only when selected for real estate development. Since 2017, hundreds have been replaced by high-rise apartments, benefiting only the owners of such spaces and displacing female workers to other areas with harsher living conditions.

3. Jahyun Park, Wanweol-dong, 2021. Pencil on paper. Installation view at I Love My Life, Jahyun Park’s Solo Exhibition at Hapjeongjigu, Seoul, South Korea. February 16 - March 17, 2024. Photograph by Changmin Lee. Image courtesy of Hapjungjigu.

As Korean society continues to show minimal concern for women living in these areas, Park stands as a witness as she meticulously records them on paper; her laborious technique can be read as an act of resistance against oblivion. At the same time, the works reveal an ongoing state of collapse. Just as mold encroaches on neglected spaces, the hand-pressed dots spreading across paper represent the slow erasure of their subjects. This is especially pronounced in the seven large-scale portraits of female figures on the basement floor of the exhibition, whose dotted, blotchy skin recalls mold-covered walls.

In a show that departs from life-affirming poetry, visitors are stripped of the power to define and judge the lives of those depicted in Park’s works.

In Temporary Worker (2009), a woman sits cross-legged in her undergarments. She seems unperturbed by the blood-like liquid flowing down her face and body, as she bears no facial expression. Her still body conveys a mixture of powerlessness and nonchalance – a common response of temporary workers in Korea to their financial and social precarity.

4. Jahyun Park, Ordinary Person, 2009-2011. Pen on paper. Installation view at I Love My Life, Jahyun Park’s Solo Exhibition at Hapjeongjigu, Seoul, South Korea. February 16 - March 17, 2024. Photograph by Changmin Lee. Image courtesy of Hapjungjigu.

Her indifference is shared by the women in other portraits titled Everyday Person (2009-2011). With faded pupils, patchy skin, and hazy outlines – an effect achieved by sanding the paper surfaces – the women look like zombies. It is difficult to read any emotions from their shut mouths and vacant eyes that aimlessly look forward. The women’s apathy towards their collapsing bodies evokes a sense of unease, as it points to a loss of will to defend themselves.

What viewers can do, then, is face the portraits. Looking away is not an option.

In documenting these disappearing people and places, Park refrains from passing judgment. The exhibition’s title, I Love My Life, is taken from the eponymous poem by Keun-Wha Lee, which speaks of self-acceptance. In a show that departs from such life-affirming poetry, visitors are stripped of the power to define and judge the lives of those depicted in Park’s works. The right to speak is reserved only for the depicted.

5. Jahyun Park. Text accompanying the Seo-dong (2023) and Wanweol-dong (2021) series. Installation view at I Love My Life, Jahyun Park’s Solo Exhibition at Hapjeongjigu, Seoul, South Korea. February 16 - March 17, 2024. Photograph by Changmin Lee. Image courtesy of Hapjungjigu.

In this light, the texts amongst the door drawings on the first floor gain renewed meaning. They are vivid testaments to the overlooked but pulsating life in spaces and people who are ebbing away.

What viewers can do, then, is face the portraits. Looking away is not an option. The pupils of the subjects may be empty, but they stare back with a gaze steadier than ever. For the first time in a decade, I scrutinize the glass door, the space, the faces, and the countless dots. With a breath deeper than ever, I feel their presence for an extended moment.

Jahyun Park’s solo exhibition, I Love My Life at Hapjungjigu in Seoul, South Korea, was on view between February 16 to March 17, 2024.

About the artist
Jahyun Park has held seven solo exhibitions, continuing her work on urban environments surrounding redevelopment, collapsing spaces, and the human body, and has been invited to numerous planned exhibitions, including at the Busan Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art in 2023, “100 Ideas”, at the COVID-19 Seoul Public Art Exhibition in 2021, at the Seoul National University Museum of Art in 2018, and at the Busan Museum of Art in 2017.

About the writer
Hayeon Lee (b. 1993) is a Seoul-based arts professional whose interest lies in exploring the intersections of art, technology, and society, with a focus on the relationships between Korean society and women. Hayeon is also a member of Seoul Reading Room, a semi-public library of contemporary art and theory in Seoul. She is pursuing a Master’s degree in Arts and Cultural Management at Hongik University. With a background in computer science, Lee has also worked as an IP Manager Assistant at a patent law firm for four years.

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🔍 Legal

On (Be)Holding Life that Pulsates in Overlooked Places: Jahyun Park at Hapjungjigu

Park stands as a witness to the vanishing places and people as she meticulously records them on paper.

In a show that departs from life-affirming poetry, visitors are stripped of the power to define and judge the lives of those depicted in Park’s works.

What viewers can do, then, is face the portraits. Looking away is not an option.

︎︎︎Previous Next︎

E-Issue 08 –– SELSummer/Fall 2024

E-08++ Summer/Fall 2024

About ––

Interviews ––

Open Call ––

Newsletter ––

Chronological Archive ––

E-Issue 01 –– AUH/DXB Summer 2020

E-01++ Fall/Winter 2020-21

🎙️GAD Talk Series –– Season 1 2020

E-Issue 02 –– NYC Spring 2021

E-02++ Spring/Summer 2021

E-Issue 03 ––TYO Fall 2021

E-03++ Fall/Winter 2021-22

E-Issue 04 –– IST Spring 2022

E-04++ Spring/Summer 2022

E-Issue 05 –– VCE Fall 2022

E-05++ Fall/Winter 2022-23

E-Issue 06 –– DXB/SHJSpring 2023

E-Issue 07 –– AUHWinter 2023-24

E-07++ Winter/Spring 2024

🔍 Legal

On (Be)Holding Life that Pulsates in Overlooked Places: Jahyun Park at Hapjungjigu

Park stands as a witness to the vanishing places and people as she meticulously records them on paper.

In a show that departs from life-affirming poetry, visitors are stripped of the power to define and judge the lives of those depicted in Park’s works.

What viewers can do, then, is face the portraits. Looking away is not an option.

︎︎︎Previous Next︎

E-Issue 08 –– SEL
Summer/Fall 2024

E-08++
Summer/Fall 2024

E-Issue 01 –– AUH/DXB
Summer 2020

E-01++
Fall/Winter 2020-21

E-Issue 02 –– NYC
Spring 2021

E-02++
Spring/Summer 2021

E-Issue 03 ––TYO
Fall 2021

E-03++
Fall/Winter 2021-22

E-Issue 04 –– IST
Spring 2022

E-04++
Spring/Summer 2022

E-Issue 05 –– VCE
Fall 2022

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Fall/Winter 2022-23

E-Issue 06 –– DXB/SHJ
Spring 2023

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Winter 2023-24

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