Upcoming​

We assume that we have clarity about the world around us, seeing and understanding reality as it is. However, what we encounter is rarely physical objects and entities themselves; instead, it is a form of perception constructed within the space between each object and ourselves. I call this form of perception our 'resolution'. After all, the world does not look identical to every human being. Depending on how close we approach or how far back we step, from the position we take and the type of psychological lens through which we consider that object, our own resolution can change. In this context, the term 'resolution' does not refer solely to the visual quality of being sharper or blurred. Rather, it is the parameter of perception that dictates the density, structure, and limits through which the world reveals itself to us. From a human perspective, moving too close to an object causes its form to dissolve into a mass of colour and indistinguishable matter; only when a certain distance is established does the object coalesce into something coherent. Yet distance remains a relative metric bound to human senses and scales. To a microscopic creature, what we consider an ordinary, navigable distance would be unfathomable and potentially endless. Moreover, contemporary visual culture often demands that we contend with multiple distances and perspectives simultaneously. In those moments, the world cannot sustain itself as a single, unified image; it constantly fractures and reassembles. In such circumstances, it becomes difficult to find the 'resolution' that captures reality most accurately. What we see is always nothing more than the relationship emerging between the object and ourselves. Hyundoo Jung’s paintings originate from sensory engagement with the essence of the subject. Rather than offering a simple representation of the subject, he pushes the concept of form to the point of collapse. The image on his canvas, comprising a concentrated accumulation of matter, transforms his subject into a chaotic mass of sensation. At first glance, his work can feel invasive and disorienting, its proximity to the subject excessive. Yet, somehow, life does not lose its clarity here; instead, using this technique of heightened density, it no longer needs to be viewed as a distinct form. Getting closer does not yield better visibility; as we draw near, familiarity breaks down, allowing raw matter and sensation to take its place. Minji Ryu’s work is based on the idea of 'universal distance', in which the world establishes itself as a landscape. 'Universal distance' is our ordinary, human perception of distance through which we habitually perceive the world around us and accept it as our scenery, the backdrop to our lives. On her canvas, emotion and visual perception achieve a balance, offering viewers a sense of familiarity. However, the visible landscape is not fixed. Subtle tremors in the air, light, and color suggest the scene before us is not a permanent reality, but a temporary state created by a specific gaze and feeling. Her painting maintains the tension between the moment the world is mentally processed as a single image and the possibility of its transition into another state. Sejun Lee’s work rejects consolidating the world using a specific resolution. Different distances and viewpoints collide on a single canvas, reconnecting severed images and spaces. At times, what is visible on the surface splits, connects, and expands, generating shifts and transformations according to the viewer's position and movement. This appears to be an attempt to view the subject from as many angles as possible, perhaps trying to find 'totality', but it simultaneously reveals that such 'totality' is impossible to create from a single perspective. Images seen from various distances coexist without converging and do not generate a single, definitive picture; reality exists in multiple states that change constantly depending on where the viewer decides to stand. Through the works of these three artists, this exhibition reveals that the fixed form of the world around us is not a given; it is constantly reconstructed by distance and our own psychology. At close range, the form of an object appears as a mass of colour, matter, and sensation; further away, it becomes part of a landscape, a world with which we are familiar. Every image has its own distance and perspective, exposing a structure that resists reduction to a singular perception. What matters is not that one distance portrays the world more accurately than another; each distance represents a distinct, individual condition for viewing the world. The moment that condition changes, what we believed to be the world changes with it. During this experience, we come face to face with a question: Is the world we believe we can see truly the world itself, or merely a transient form caught between reality and ourselves?