Trifling Moment: An Se-Eun
The series so-called landscapes, or genre scenes, by Ahn Se-Eun present scenes that feel, to me, unmistakably unusual. They do not record or recreate meaningful moments or special places. This likely explains the artist’s choice of the word Trifling, which suggests something minor or insignificant. Still, these small moments cannot be called meaningless. For example, some works show foreign scenes with a Southeast Asian feel. Yet they lack the nostalgic mood or the pleasure of exoticism often found in other exotic or kitsch landscapes. They are not without meaning, but they are not full of meaning either. One might think of a ten won coin or a bottle cap. They are not worthless, but they are hardly rich in value. For this reason, it is difficult, or not very useful, to approach these works by focusing on what is depicted or on any specific event, as one would with typical landscape or genre painting.
My attention therefore turns to how the artist relates to her subject, the landscape. What stands out is the artist’s position, because it reveals an ambiguous attitude toward what she depicts. The artist, and the viewer as well, keeps a measured distance from the subject. The position is neither far away nor very close. From here, one cannot gain a wide, open view, nor enter the subject and reveal it in full detail. Instead, another possibility appears.
Consider the people shown in the works. From this position, the artist cannot avoid forming some kind of relationship with them, because she is close enough for that to happen. Yet the relationship remains restrained. At most, one of them returns her gaze. The artist is still slightly removed, too far away to form an active or intimate connection. From this position, she is clearly bound by what exists before her eyes, but at the same time she enjoys a certain degree of freedom. As a result, subject and object face each other in a tense balance, with neither side holding clear dominance.
One can recall a problem that troubled the painter Na Hye-Seok in the 1920s. While working on 《천후궁》(1926), she struggled with colour. The issue came from the grey roof tiles of the scene, which made most colours appear cold. She worried that using colours close to the actual tones would leave the whole painting feeling too cold, while using too many warm colours would cause the subject itself to lose meaning. At the time, Na Hye-Seok was seeking a painting built on tension, one that did not favour either the subject or the object but held both at once.
From this point of view, An Se-Eun’s painting can be seen as continuing the core problem found in Na Hye-Seok’s work. The difference is that while Na Hye-Seok turned to balanced colour and moved toward compromise or reconciliation, An seems not to believe that such reconciliation or compromise is possible.
Looking again at these works, the artist does not fill her landscapes with subjective brushwork. There is no loose or expressive touch that reveals her emotions or the movement of her body. Instead, the outlines of the subject serve as a kind of guide, along with countless dots placed. As a result, the paintings do not show the artist’s personal feelings or interpretations of the subject. Yet this objective method of making gives the subject, the small moments, a clear and solid sense of presence and substance. Through the act of placing each dot, moments that would otherwise simply pass by are brought into being as something that truly exists.
This situation can be linked to the artist’s earlier work, 《Disposable Identity》. The series is built on a structure in which found objects, such as ten won coins, bottle caps, or pinecones, function as sets of elements, while found forms, like the neat paper patterns placed under cakes, act as an overall structure. When these two are combined, the everyday meaning of the objects and patterns is reduced or erased, and their simple presence here and now comes to the forefront.
For example, in 《Disposable Identity》, the ten won coins that make up a decorative pattern are clearly ten won coins, yet they no longer look like coins from daily life. They appear instead as single dots within a pattern, as small pieces of shining metal. I cannot grasp or understand them in a familiar way. I cannot only face them as things that have appeared in front of me, here and now. In this sense, the small moments that emerge before us in these paintings may correspond to the objects and patterns that appeared so strangely in 《Disposable Identity》
The approach that stands out in 《Disposable Identity》 and in these works, building images objectively according to fixed rules, can be compared to professional moving and packing. Movers who pack boxes for relocation do not judge objects by their everyday value, such as price, use, or personal memories. Instead, they respond more directly to the object itself, its shape, size, and weight. The way they combine objects follows patterns learned through the body. Small boxes filled this way are then stacked against to fill a container. To our eyes, that large container appears as a single, complete object.
To the owner of those belongings, however, it does not appear as merely one structure. They see both the whole and each box within it, and even each object inside. These things are invisible, yet also visible at the same time. This comparison becomes especially suggestive when we consider that An Se-Eun’s life has been shaped by repeated moves from one country to another. A passage from the artist’s notes points to the conditions of her painting, where subject and object exist in an unusually tight tension, not only as a way of knowing but as a way of being. Here, the viewpoints of the one who packs and the one who unpacks clearly exist together.
Hong Jiseok (Art Critic)
Translated by Gallery Chosun