Yang Yoo Yun at Chapter II
Yang Yoo Yun’s exhibition “Face” somewhat humbly units out to seize concern because it manifests in economies of sunshine and darkish: these moments when angst clouds all the pieces round us, when tears trigger our imaginative and prescient to blur, when hazard seems like overexposure, a sort of violent brightening. Refusing the soothing results of full motifs, the artist revels as an alternative in crushed distances and claustrophobic close-ups. Often, she attracts her topics from cinema historical past, as in Dogear, 2022, a portray of a printout of a nonetheless from the 1991 movie Silence of the Lambs wherein Jodie Foster’s distinctive mien appears to encapsulate the very essence of apprehension. In tableaux which might be typically naturalistic, typically intensely staged and even fantastically imagined, Yun makes of those parts—concern, brightness, darkness—a premise for testing the probabilities of her chosen medium, diluted acrylic on primed Jangi, a kind of Korean paper produced from a number of layers of mulberry bark, which is thought for its intense sturdiness and absorptive capability. To explain her achievements on this materials as chiaroscuro can be to overlook their distinctiveness; she evokes shadows as a sort of refined scaling, like enameling left too lengthy within the blazing solar. Yun’s understanding and mastery of her painterly floor lends an unmistakable sense of permanence to the fleetingness of her motifs and permits us, the viewers, to linger on one thing that’s typically too refined, too dreamlike, to essentially be represented.
— Jeppe Ugelvig
