Vestigia: Youngae Kim
Through my work, I explore architecture as the foundation of our lives, focusing on the materials and structures that form it. I look beyond the surface meaning of buildings to consider how different structures and materials become spaces where we work and rest, build homes, and raise children. My work grows from reinterpreting and extracting the materials and structures of walls, fences, and roofs from the world around me, both past and present. In other words, these forms were taken apart and rebuilt, then transformed, during my move to New Zealand, a time when I was searching for a sense of space. This space was physical, mental, rational, and cultural, and it was essential for survival, for finding identity, and for settling in.
My early drawings were landscape scenes centred on architecture. As printmaking and drawing repeated and overlapped, the images gradually became simpler and eventually shifted into geometric abstraction. I became drawn to the surface of printed paper, which led me to create relief works by casting pulp using latex molds. From this point on, I grew more interested in the surfaces of architectural walls and floors, and began extensive research and study of them.
After that, I began sourcing materials from places known as demolition yards, where reusable building materials from torn-down structures are sold. The wood, corrugated metal, and slate I buy there have been worn by years of wind and rain, leaving peeled paint and cracks that create rich, beautiful surfaces. It also matters to me that these materials once belonged to someone’s home or room, or were once shaped into something by another person. Perhaps because of this, one critic described my work as “archeology of experience”.
I collect these materials, decide on a scale, and fit their surfaces and depths together to uncover their original structures and histories. When they are cast directly into paper, they are reborn in a new form. During this process, I use tools such as electric saws, drills, and hammers to shape the work, and in those moments I feel like a builder or a carpenter. I then apply multiple layers of latex to create a rubber mold that can capture the form and surface exactly. Into this mold, I pour pulp mixed with pigment and let it dry to form the final cast. The pulp is made by cutting old cotton bed overs into stamp-sized pieces and grinding them in a machine called a Hollander Beater.
These paper works require intense labour, long hours, and patience. I have continued this practice for over five years because of the unique texture and appeal that only paper can offer. So far, I have cut more than 80 kilograms of old bed covers into stamp-sized pieces. My hands are covered with calluses, and I work with my body every day like a laborer. Still, as with all artists, the joy of seeing each work completed makes up for everything. The works are light and fragile, which makes transport and storage difficult. Yet they appear solid and heavy, like stone or iron plates. There is a meaningful paradox in the fact that these paper works were once made from materials that were strong and heavy, used as walls and roofs to protect us.
This exhibition is titled 《Vestigia》, an Italian word meaning traces. It continues the same themes as my first solo exhibition in Seoul two years ago. Domus meaning home in Latin, and my ongoing body of work. The work recreates slate, wood, tiles, and newly introduced cast iron ornaments in paper. Through repetition and replication, I aimed to create calm, meditative surfaces and forms. The cast iron decorations, window bars, and colour choices were likely influenced by Moorish architecture and its rich colours, which left a strong impression on me during a two-month trip to Spain and Morocco last year. The iron gate patterns in Barcelona and the window grilles and colours of houses along the road to the Sahara were especially striking, and they seem to have found their way into the work.
As the subtitle 시간과 노력의 흔적 (traces of time and labour) suggests, I wanted to capture the marks left by people who built, lived in, and cared for their homes, as well as the passage of time carried by the materials themselves. Above all, I hope these works allow others to share what I have seen and felt, and offer a chance to reconsider what we choose to value and preserve.