Yunghun Yoo's latest solo exhibition at the 839 Gallery offers a thought-provoking exploration of connection and parting, mediated by the Southern California transportation system. Like philosopher Michel Foucault, who identified heterotopias as spaces that subvert societal norms, Yoo's work finds its own unique spatial ordinance in the interstices between train tracks.
The exhibition features a series of paintings that traverse the physical track, but also delve into the mental terrain of the traveler. In "Exit Wound," for instance, a bright yellow background evokes the carnage left by a gunshot, with flesh splintering and twining into horizon lines. This work serves as a poignant metaphor for parting ways, where something that once connected us leaves an indelible mark.
Yoo's paintings are not representations of trains but rather spaces within which transportation takes place. As he put it, "My paintings (of trains) are more spaces than beings of transportation." The artist's use of gestural vigor and expressive brushstrokes imbues his work with a dynamic energy, as if the train itself is in motion.
A prominent piece, "8(2)," features two columns of four nebulous spheres bound together by faint ligatures of color. This painting represents platform assignments, which are subject to transpositions or reconfiguration. Yoo experiments with opacity here, blighting out loud swathes and strokes into quiet implications that hover over the kitchen sink, railway signals beside an empty telephone niche.
The artist's exploration of connection is both subtle and profound. "I was trying to describe the idea of parting with something," he explained. Like a train hurtling down the track, something once connected us can leave behind only pain and tension. In his paintings, Yoo captures this interstitial place of discomfort and euphoria.
Other works in the exhibition, such as "Train II" and "Beach," blur the line between representation and figuration. The former features cylindrical shapes chugging along train tracks, while the latter is a translucent self-portrait with a Vitruvian Man-like figure stretched out yellow limbs over a salmon square.
Ultimately, Yoo's work defies fixed meaning, instead offering a serendipitous encounter that lingers in the mind like the movement of a train. His paintings are a testament to the complexity and beauty of connection – a space without a place where we find ourselves suspended between departure and arrival, forever bound to the tracks of our own journeys.
The exhibition features a series of paintings that traverse the physical track, but also delve into the mental terrain of the traveler. In "Exit Wound," for instance, a bright yellow background evokes the carnage left by a gunshot, with flesh splintering and twining into horizon lines. This work serves as a poignant metaphor for parting ways, where something that once connected us leaves an indelible mark.
Yoo's paintings are not representations of trains but rather spaces within which transportation takes place. As he put it, "My paintings (of trains) are more spaces than beings of transportation." The artist's use of gestural vigor and expressive brushstrokes imbues his work with a dynamic energy, as if the train itself is in motion.
A prominent piece, "8(2)," features two columns of four nebulous spheres bound together by faint ligatures of color. This painting represents platform assignments, which are subject to transpositions or reconfiguration. Yoo experiments with opacity here, blighting out loud swathes and strokes into quiet implications that hover over the kitchen sink, railway signals beside an empty telephone niche.
The artist's exploration of connection is both subtle and profound. "I was trying to describe the idea of parting with something," he explained. Like a train hurtling down the track, something once connected us can leave behind only pain and tension. In his paintings, Yoo captures this interstitial place of discomfort and euphoria.
Other works in the exhibition, such as "Train II" and "Beach," blur the line between representation and figuration. The former features cylindrical shapes chugging along train tracks, while the latter is a translucent self-portrait with a Vitruvian Man-like figure stretched out yellow limbs over a salmon square.
Ultimately, Yoo's work defies fixed meaning, instead offering a serendipitous encounter that lingers in the mind like the movement of a train. His paintings are a testament to the complexity and beauty of connection – a space without a place where we find ourselves suspended between departure and arrival, forever bound to the tracks of our own journeys.