Red Noise Visit
2018
Single channel video, stereo & binaural sound, headphones
12min 10sec Dimensions variable

This work spotlights two contrasting sounds* that had existed during the modernization of Korea. The first of these sounds is the siren, remembered in particular contexts as the “noon siren” and the “curfew siren.” Sirens effectively synchronized daytime laborers’ daily routines and maintained control over their evenings across successive historical periods, from Japanese colonial rule to U.S. military control, and mid-century wartime up to the age of dictatorship. Over the course of 36 years, the curfew siren in particular gradually instilled within the nation a strict temporal discipline, dominating the space, time, and minds of individuals. In Osu-myeon, Imsil-gun, Jullabuk-do, Korea, stands the tallest red brick watchtower in existence, built during the Japanese occupation to surveil residents. After Korea’s independence, it began to function as a siren tower. The story within this work begins with the echoic memory of local residents, recalling the siren in tandem with the rigid visuality of the red brick tower and gradually expands to the story of the curfew siren.

The other sound was that of the radio. It produced sound that gathered listeners unseen, within the darkness that fell after each curfew siren. It was at times deliberate propaganda directed between the South and the North. It was also sometimes a regular broadcast signal that had crossed unintentionally past borders. In an age of strong anti-communist sentiment, it was illegal to listen to something like the radio, which operates midst a field of blurred spatial boundaries. Therefore, listening to the radio was always a secret, individual experience. The story within this work is about the memory of a former spy during the 60's, who would listen to the broadcasts from the South while in the North.At that time, the perceived sound of all radio signals was labeled by a press as “Red Noise.”

Two vexed sounds—two “red noises”—one oppressively striking down upon the flow of time, the other permeating across spatial borders. What traces did the siren leave on individual lives after acts of forced collective listening and temporal suppression? On the other hand, how did radio galvanize the rebellious imaginations of secluded listeners?

To get closer to these sounds of the past, which are realistically well out of reach, I researched news articles, interviews, and essays describing echoic memories of the siren and radio. I then arranged excerpted text from the sources above into video; the texts illustrate the memories of various speakers and distinct perspectives. Using electroacoustic techniques, and recorded voice and found objects, recomposed siren and radio sounds are juxtaposed with the video.

*The idea of juxtaposing two contrasting noises in this work—a siren and radio waves—was conceived from the thesis The Soundscape of Nation and the Imaginative Power of Red Noise (2011) written by Tae Hun Lim.
(KR)








Installation View at Arko Art Center, Seoul (Photo by Kyung Roh)





Mark
Guns and Flowers
2017
Horn speakers, speaker stands, amplifier, sound
Sound: 4min loop
Dimensions variable


This work was conceived upon watching a news broadcast about the DMZ loudspeaker wall and its transmissions from the South Korean border into North Korea.
According to other news articles on the event, the transmissions of propaganda had been heard as far as 24km from the loudspeaker wall. This action by South Korea disgruntled the North, instigating the latter to demand respect for its distressed soldiers. Furthermore, North Korean refugees themselves have stated that the broadcasts were ineffective and simply annoying. The contents of the broadcasts included: information about South Korea, the reality of North Korean society, weather forecasts, and popular South Korean songs having nothing much to do with ideological propaganda.

I focus my attention on the fact that everyday, popular love songs can be engineered for use as an anxiety-inducing weapon against foreign peoples. I also reflect here on the mechanisms of listening. Vibrating air is perceived as a tactile sensation with its source of energy working remotely to beat one’s eardrum—just as a bullet shot from a distance has a physical effect on its target. What interests me is the use of song as a psychological, auditory, and tactile device that reveals this sensory network by means of fear. What is also unveiled is the contradiction between purpose and method. Through sculptural method and listening, I sought to recreate the event of experiencing song used as bullet of sonic warfare.

The dominant frequencies of audible sound are heard intermittently or felt as vibrations to people in distance. These resemble a dense mass or sharp thorn when represented visually on an acoustic spectrogram. I gathered the shapes that emerged out of a particular love song, and cut out and reproduced white and pink noise. Then lastly, I reconstituted these as rhythms. These fragmented sounds, in contrast to the full emotions of love songs, kindle a scorching tactility.
(KR)










Installation View at SongEun Art Space, Seoul (Photo by Jaebum Kim & YoungEun Kim)





Mark
Flesh of Sound
2015/2017
Speakers, playback laptop, wooden wall
6min 12sec
Dimensions variable


This work began from an interest in the power of collective voice as a nonmaterial tool utilized to re-contextualize song. Participants of any demonstration, regardless of the occasion, often bring with them a song or excerpted phrase, completely out of context, made appropriate by the physical and material properties of the collective voice. Songs used during protest stand as potent symbols, reinforcing strong emotional bonds among protestors. Much of the time, new songs are written for the occasion. Other times, however, the collective selects a pre-existing, arbitrary tune to serve a revolutionary purpose.

One song in particular, the “Happy Birthday To You” song, sung during the Hong Kong Umbrella Movement, became the accidental song of choice by protestors. During the protest, an unintentionally pressed megaphone button caused the accompaniment part to sound, leading to enthusiastic applause and a mass sing-a-long; the song instantly acquired symbolic power through collective voice. Following this event, each time the protest reached peak unruliness, a minority of protestors would begin singing this song, quelling the curses and shouting, ultimately transforming the whole atmosphere.
Placed in the context of this work, a single, humming voice begins the melody, gradually enriched by an additive process of layering more voices and melodies atop the humming. The process presents the shift in the way song is embodied across the spectrum spanning from a singular voice to a collective body.
(KR)











Installation View at Art Space Pool, Seoul (Photo by Chulki Hong & YoungEun Kim)









$1’s Worth
2016
3 channel sound installation synchronized with a video & 3 respectively looped videos
3 speakers, 4 monitors, 2 drawings, acoustic foam
Dimensions variable


In this work, I focus especially on one particular characteristic of sound, its non-materiality. In an attempt to materialize sound, concrete units of measurement—namely, length, height, and width—are applied when transforming it. I purchased various pop songs from an online music store for $1.29 per song, and substituted the above mentioned units for the sound file’s time, pitch, and frequency range. These substitutions were done not according to the scientific standards of acoustical studies, but rather, according to commonly used terms by which laypeople understand and describe everyday objects. I then accordingly reduced each song’s time, pitch, and frequency range, creating three new versions respective to each dimension, with each version worth one dollar.

Three speakers assigned to time, pitch, and frequency cycle through the versions of every song, and accompanying tutorial videos (yet vague tutorial) demonstrate how each sound is sculpted to its final form.
Sound cannot be seen or touched, thus it is difficult to discuss and confirm its lasting existence in terms of visual or tactile perception. This work exhibits the process of materializing sound as a medium by means of embodied physical measurements.

The motivation for this work is based on my experience over the years in dealing with sound as a primary material and subject. Each time I attempt to convey how sound occupies a physical space and how its apparent non-materiality can act physically on the world, I instead experience my own inability to communicate within an ocularcentric art system. From this, I have created a work in the form of an ironic tutorial attempting to establish temporal common sense on the material properties of sound.













Installation View at Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art, Seoul (Photo by Hyo Jung Ahn & Video Still by YoungEun Kim) 





Halo Composition
2015
Speakers, mixed media
Dimensions and durations variable (unique durations per looped channel)


Among the many qualities to consider regarding the voice, I focus on its corporeality—a quality reminding the listener of someone’s bodily presence. Whenever I heard the voice of a neighbor passing through our shared walls, I came to imagine the body of this unseen neighbor. A voice can provide much physical and visual information about its bodily source and the space in which it resides. Since the invention of the phonograph, technology and media have progressively separated the voice from its body.

This work reconnects the isolated voice back to a physical body and space. To achieve this, I collected various improvised vocal noises that typically complement the melodic phrases of popular songs. The sounds were then hidden behind or within unremarkable architectural elements found in a common home, such as a closet door or bathroom wall. I entitled the series “Halo Composition”, which reflects the method of arranging the sound sculptures to produce a distinctive rhythmic and textural presence in a given space.















#01-06 Installation View at HITE Collection, Seoul (Photo by Heeseung Chung)
#07 Installation View at Rijksakademie van beeldende kunsten, Amsterdam (Photo by Gert Jan van Rooij)