“Appetite for Destruction” is one of the most famous paintings by Robert Williams. This provocative painting, depicting a robot rapist, who is about to be attacked by a mysterious satanic monster, was featured as the cover for the Guns N’ Roses’ 1987 debut album of the same name. Undoubtedly, the cover put the album at the center of controversy and it was finally moved to inside the jacket. Although I was a great fan of the Guns N’ Roses’ music in the late 1980s through early 1990s, I did not pay much attention to this picture, because then I thought that it was too revolting to have an eye contact with. But, after two decades, I find the image quite fascinating, since it shows the artist’s metaphoric criticism on the widespread destruction in the machine age, which had been glorified in the name of modernization, and the harmful aftereffect that harasses human race.
In recent years, I have noticed that many contemporary Korean artists present works that share Williams’ reflection on machine culture or, in other words, modernization. Among them, in particular, I am interested in those who take architecture as the subject matters of their art, because, as the current cityscape of Seoul proves, Modernist movement left a significant visual legacy to the field of architecture in Korea, and I think it is only natural that artists direct their attention to this social history.
Korea was never the precursor or the leader of the international Modernist movement, but rather, Modernism was accepted as the filler of the chasm between the Korean people’s abandonment of indigenous culture and the aspiration to join the global community in the 1970s and 1980s. However, it can be said that Korean Modernism has its own aesthetics, distinguished from the international style, since some transformation occurred when it was combined with existing material culture. As seen in Kim Sang Gyun’s “The New Castle,” a series of cement building models which consist of an assemblage of the facades of actual buildings in Korea, the western architectural style was imported and actively accepted by the nation without criticism. As a result, even the most historical part of Seoul, such as Jongno, lost the patina as an ancient city, and the whole scenery was replaced with a new hybrid style, which erased the local identity.
It is also noteworthy that Modernism was introduced to Korea just as formal style, without the philosophy and theories behind the movement being considered. It was a political decision towards growth-oriented economy, rather than a utopian desire to create a better world, that motivated Korea’s modernization. As a result, modern architecture in Korea hardly contributes to urban planning nor serves as organizational solution for lower classes in society. Rather, modern skyscrapers erected next to old structures often create a chaotic street atmosphere and the cell-like apartments equipped with the latest technology and interior decoration tend to be the most expensive housings sought after by the upscale.
There are some artists of young generation who directly deal with this contemporary cityscape in their work. A photographic artist, Kim Sang-gil, captures ordinary buildings and street scenes that we see in our everyday life, and a painter, Kim Soo-young, fills her canvases with the detailed images of modern buildings in Seoul. The locations and the buildings that appear in their works are all familiar to Koreans, but at the same time, we feel strange to the view of their pictures. Certainly, they would have their own statement on the legacy of Korean modernization, but they cleverly disguise it under the cool and intelligently picturesque surface. Instead of having empathy with what has been happening in our society, they are observing it from a distance and presenting an uninterested view.
The last artist on my list is Lee Bul. Over the past 20 years, she has produced visually stunning yet theoretically provocative works. In the early stage of her career, she presented works demonstrating her strong feminist viewpoints, often using her own body as the subject as well as the medium. But, in the course of time, Lee has turned to create conceptual sculptures, and recently, she presented the works taking forms of architectural models. In a 2007 interview with Chosun Ilbo, she explained that her recent productions, especially the ones presented at her solo exhibition at Fondation Cartier, were her “architectural expression on the distorted ideal of Modernism.”
As an artist who has renown for being international, Lee expands her probe on Modernism into the global level. Through her work, she unfolds her knowledge and interpretation on the works by Modernist architects, such as Vladimir Tatlin and Bruno Taut, and at the same time connects it with Korea’s modern history, especially that of military regime. Although she transformed her work from human body to architecture, one big consistent subject underlying her entire practice is “the deep-seated human drive toward vainglorious ambition and the repercussions of inevitable failure.”[1]
Modernism’s grand ambition and its legacy have been credited with bringing remarkable progress in the global community and equally criticized for destructing the traditional culture and heritage. In Korea, the criticism can be more serious because the modernization of the society was not a voluntary and well-thought-out movement but the tide it had to follow during the political upheaval. In this sense, it is noteworthy to take a look at the modern landscapes depicted in the above works, because they remind us of what our society has been through in the past, enlighten us on the contemporary artists’ contributions towards redefining our culture and history, and inspire us to ponder on what we could and should do in the future.
YOO Sengeun Euna
[1] HG Masters, “Lee Bul: Wayward Tangents,” Art Asia Pacific, No. 56 November/December, 2007, p. 133