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Focus features two in-depth reviews each month of fine art, architecture and design exhibitions and events at art museums, galleries and alternative spaces around Japan. The contributors are non-Japanese art critics living in Japan. |
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Kwak Duck-Jun: The Paintings of the 1960s
Christopher Stephens |
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Kwak Duck-Jun, Smiling Pose (1966), collection of the artist |
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Kwak Duck-Jun, Journey 675 (1967), collection of the artist |
Outside the two-room space that contains two dozen or so sketches and paintings by Kwak Duck-Jun at Osaka's National Museum of Art, viewers will find a long panel detailing the life and career of the 77-year-old artist. Two entries provide a telling detail -- "1937: Born in Fushimi Ward, Kyoto with Japanese nationality," and "1952: Loses Japanese nationality as the San Francisco Peace Treaty goes into effect."
While mention is often made of the ambiguous legal status of Japan's ethnic Koreans, the historical background is perhaps not so widely known. Not long after the end of World War II, nearly two million Korean residents were repatriated to the Korean Peninsula, leaving a much-diminished population of 650,000. Then, on April 28, 1952, the day that the American Occupation officially ended and Japan renounced its claim to former colonies such as Korea and Taiwan, all Japan-born residents of foreign ethnicity were stripped of their Japanese nationality. Having no direct link to their ancestral homelands, they were effectively rendered stateless.
Kwak's paintings, his earliest works, are not overtly political. The influence of history begins to show in the 1970s when, in keeping with the times, he adopted a more conceptual approach. Like many artists of his generation, Kwak was deeply suspicious of Expo '70, the first world's fair in Asia, which was championed by the Japanese government and heralded as the start of a new era for the country, as suggested by the event's official theme: "Progress and Harmony for Mankind." Kwak responded with a series of works based on numerical measurements, such as a scale that remains fixed at "0kg" despite the weight of a heavy rock, and a collection of identical clocks displaying completely different times. These quiet indictments of contemporary society suggest that figures are often used to draw attention away from unpleasant realities like pollution and war.
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Kwak Duck-Jun, Journey 6813 (1968), the National Museum of Art, Osaka |
At the age of 23, Kwak was hospitalized for nearly three years with tuberculosis while recovering from a major operation to remove part of his lungs. The experience necessarily colored his view of his own body, and led to works like Elimination=Relation, which consists of three photographs -- the first showing Kwak urinating on a rock in the middle of a vacant lot; the second, shot from the same angle, showing the wet ground around the rock; and the third showing the same scene after the dirt has dried. In another work, a video piece titled Self-Portrait '78, Kwak's face passes through a series of contortions as it is pressed against a sheet of glass with such force that the material begins to crack.
Kwak's visage is also central to an ongoing project he began in 1974, in which he combines the bottom half of his face with the upper half of an American president's face (beginning with Ford and continuing through to Obama), and frames the composite figure in a Time magazine cover. The artist's grimace, reflected in a mirror, appears under familiar headlines like "Election Special" and "Person of the Year," dominating the image as a whole and providing a subtle commentary on the current state of world affairs. On a trip to Washington, D.C. in 2000, Kwak also displayed Clinton and Kwak, the work he had made with President Clinton's face, in front of the White House and other notable locations around the U.S. capital.
Despite the serious overtones in much of Kwak's work, there is also a playful side. In 1971 the artist climbed to the top of Mt. Hiei in Kyoto, captured some of the air there in transparent plastic bags, and sent the containers to 26 people. The recipients were asked to release the invisible contents immediately after receiving them and to send back a postcard telling where and when the act had occurred. In Duck and Duck, Kwak wrapped himself in a white sheet and gave a series of performances in parks and other public places with a live duck. Needless to say, this was inspired by the pronunciation of both his surname ("quack") and given name. A large collection of duck figurines and toys he has collected are also used to decorate the exterior of this exhibit.
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Kwak Duck-Jun, Smile at Night A (1968), collection of the artist
All photographs © Kwak Duck-Jun and provided courtesy of the National Museum of Art, Osaka; unauthorized reproduction prohibited. |
After gathering what one can of Kwak's fascinating but relatively undocumented post-1970 output from the photographs and other materials shown in glass cases outside the main exhibit, the viewer moves on to the central attraction, his early paintings. From a distance many of the pictures resemble huge heads or bodies made up of organic forms and brilliant colors that are as pleasing to look at as they must have been to make. The pictures exude a sense of immediacy and creativity not unlike that of outsider art. This is particularly true of a work like Smile at Night A (1968), made up of hundreds of mask-like faces of varying sizes and shapes smashed together in a huge uneven block, with a vertical strip of white partitioning off a smaller section of faces on the left, and a similar, slightly wider border on the right. Though it is not obvious in a photograph, the images are applied to a thick layer of plaster and gofun (a white pigment used in classical Japanese painting) to create an undulating surface, with some parts of the picture rising up into small hills of paint and others sinking down into shallow valleys.
It is interesting to compare these early, purely imaginative expressions with Kwak's later, largely conceptual efforts, especially since there seems to be almost nothing tying the two approaches together and no sign of anything similar to his paintings in the rest of the artist's body of work. More than anything, though, the viewer wonders how much Kwak's Korean background has informed his work, and further, how a greater tolerance of ethnic diversity might have changed Japanese art history.
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Christopher Stephens
Christopher Stephens has lived in the Kansai region for over 25 years. In addition to appearing in numerous catalogues for museums and art events throughout Japan, his translations on art and architecture have accompanied exhibitions in Spain, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Belgium, South Korea, and the U.S. His recent published work includes From Postwar to Postmodern: Art in Japan 1945-1989: Primary Documents (MoMA Primary Documents, 2012) and Gutai: Splendid Playground (Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 2013). |
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