<The Study of Complaint>

In modern society, all labor operates under instrumental rationality, as defined by Max Weber. Since Marx addressed the "alienation" of labor in Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844, this instrumental rationality, which treats everything as a means to an end, has been described by Weber's disciple Lukács as "reification," by Marcuse as "one-dimensional man," and by Adorno as the "administered society." In this highly disciplined society, micro-level bio-power controls bodies, dominating every corner of daily life.
The Study of Discontent, composed of five images depicting professions such as programmer, secretary, curator, marketer, and chef, shares a common atmosphere reminiscent of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. The dark, orderly geometric grid in the background, combined with the somber expressions of the characters, resembles a dystopian science fiction scene that foresees a bleak future. The belief that advanced technology would lead to utopia has long since faded into illusion. In such dystopias, the human body and its movements are often the first to be controlled. However, the individuality and unpredictability of human physicality unfold over time, making it impossible to fully rationalize or control.
The regulated norms of each profession are as somber as their tones and tightly bound by orderly lines. Yet, over time, these professionals’ activities become a kind of randomness—almost chaotic—escaping the confines of a predictably controlled grid. No act can be repeated identically, no gesture can be completely reduced to measurable formulas, and no practice can be entirely subsumed under the logic of instrumental rationality. Each of these professions follows its unique rhythm, and each gesture by a practitioner remains irreproducible. The differences generated within disciplined practices challenge the notion of uniformity. The traces of these individual and spontaneous gestures are bolder and more defined than the faint grid lines on graph paper. This latent "discontent" within these professionals finds a platform for expression—if not resolution—in the “study” that this work represents.  

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<Methodology of Turning>

Since Kant, the idea that to understand the world "correctly," one must examinethe conditions that make perception and understanding possible has been central to philosophy, termed "transcendental." This fundamental inquiry into the basis of understanding, known as “reflection,” is deeply rooted in intellectual history. In other words, to comprehend the world, one must grasp the understanding of understanding itself. Then, what is required to move the world?
In Methodology of Rotation, Jangwoo You explores the "method" of rotating the world, symbolized by a globe. The characters employ their bodies in unconventional ways to rotate the globe, first appearing like a documentary on world history and then suddenly shifting into a scene reminiscent of an erotic film at the 1:22 mark. But what is the “object of affection” in this scenario? It is none other than the world, symbolized by the globe. How do these figures “make love” with the world? Through their bodies, of course.
But this body is itself a boundary. The tongue, in particular, is flesh on the border. On the one hand, it’s intrinsic to the body, a “black leaf inside the mouth” (as poet Ki Hyung-do wrote). On the other hand, the tongue bridges the external world, mediating contact with others in an intimate and revealing way. A kiss, for instance, is both a confession and revelation of a deep connection with the other. The boundary-like nature of the tongue parallels the duality of language. The tongue is indispensable to speech; without it, words are impossible. The tongue materializes both the auditory image of the signifier and the mental content of the signified. It is situated at the intersection of the body’s interiority and exteriority, of self and other, of the signifier and the signified.
Humanity has long pondered the fundamental driving force behind the movement of the world—whether it be love (Jesus), material action (Marx), or language (20th-century philosophy). All three—love, action, and language—share a common element: the tongue. Thus, whether it is love, bodily movement, or speech that drives the world, the globe rotates as the tongue engages it. Yet, this rotation appears strained, as if in a tug-of-war between opposing forces. The sounds produced are not sermons, revolutionary slogans, or persuasive words but rather licking sounds and creaking noises from the globe. So, could it be that this worldly rotation, despite its grand pretenses, is merely the material result of the tongue’s movements, producing nothing more than noise?

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<Prayer>

“There is no religion without ritual.” This is a core thesis of performance theory. In churches, people close their eyes and clasp their hands; in cathedrals, they stand and sit repeatedly; in temples, they bow. Faith, a spiritual and emotional dimension, always includes ritualistic actions as an essential component, which sustains and reproduces religion. Feuerbach’s critique that “man created God, notvice versa” finds expression here, as does Dürer’s drawing Praying Hands, which symbolically encapsulates the performative acts that religious rituals entail.
Yet, like all ideologies, the physical, embodied aspects of religion are often concealed. People know this yet tend to feign ignorance. Whether art serves to expose false consciousness or to “estrange” reality, Prayer reveals the performative nature of religious rituals, disrupting conventional views of faith. The woman in the image appears to be in a reverent moment of communion with the divine. However, her tightly clasped hands and their trembling seem to destabilize this reverence, while her clenched fists seem almost defiant. It’s unclear whether these hands belong to her or another. Yet, within the frame of religious ritual, this jarring corporeal energy and clunky physicality introduce a rupture. Thus, the supposedly exalted spiritual dimension reveals itself as nothing more than a crafted artifact. We might then view Dürer’s pious Praying Hands as a device to sustain the constructed institution of religion. Despite the time, material, and medium differences, Jangwoo You’s Prayer and Dürer’s drawing share a thematic continuity —both underscore the role of humanity in constructing “belief” and religious faith.

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<99 Luftballons>

Even without referring to Lessing’s Laocoön, it is well understood that visual art engages space while literature engages time. Literature’s medium is language, which Rousseau saw as akin to birdsong, placing it in the temporal realm where hearing dominates. But is that truly the only sense involved? In a karaoke room, what senses are most engaged? Naturally, singing involves hearing, but it also involves sight (to follow lyrics and observe others’ reactions), touch (playing tambourine or dancing), taste (drinking beer after singing), and even smell (regulating breath).
99 Luftballons foregrounds this multisensory, intermedia nature of singing. The reflective dimension of this work makes this possible. What does the camera see? The lyrics and screen of the karaoke machine. But the camera is also being observed. Who watches the camera? The audience of 99 Luftballons. Thus, the audience becomes second-order observers, watching what the camera observes. Within the frame of 99 Luftballons, first-order observation and second-order reflection happen simultaneously, illustrating the multisensory realization.
This reflection highlights the camera’s intermedia character. The singer’s tongue, bearing a “second eye” (the camera), merges multiple senses: auditory (singing), visual (observing lyrics), tactile (holding the camera), gustatory (tasting the device), and olfactory (breathing through the mouth). This tongue becomes a focal point where all senses converge, amplifying its boundary-crossing nature. The camerashares these sensory functions, observing visually, listening auditorily, vibrating tactilely, tasting gustatorily, and breathing with the mouth (olfactory). Here, the boundary between the organic tongue and mechanical camera fades as the senses intercross.  

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<Belief and Reality>

Belief and Reality synthesizes the themes and ideas of this exhibition. First, the pre-existing “reality” of three-dimensional space is reduced to the zero to two-dimensional elements of points, lines, and planes. This Euclidean geometric space serves as the “reality” for The Study of Discontent’s abstracted background. How can such a geometric reality be elevated into a “human” reality?
However, the “human” here is not the rational Enlightenment figure characterized by intellect and reason but one who embraces the dimension of the body—a body that rationality tried to subsume but could not fully conquer. This human neither disregards nor abandons rationality but exceeds it. How does this human transcend it? First, they cross the boundaries freely; second, their movements’ spontaneity, unpredictability, and individual distinctiveness transform into events. Finally, their bodies breathe and sweat, with the material dimension of airflow and liquid flow unfolding in tandem with an incomprehensible auditory dimension akin to a groan. Within the immediacy and improvisation of this non-stage, this blending of materiality and corporeality in time brings about an event—a moment of experience.
This “event” arising from bodily practice does not stop there. The performers use smartphones to document themselves, becoming reflective second-order observers of their performative actions. This reflective self-observation, intertwined with the audience’s second-order observation, becomes a medium for a new understanding of this physical, performative practice. Such reflective insight through self-observation lays the groundwork for new layers of practice, placing their actions in an infinite context.
“Exhausting Gesture” The encompassing title for all these pieces is Exhausting Gesture. But can gestures truly be exhausted? As we have seen, gestures’ spontaneity, individuality, and unpredictability make them inexhaustible. So why call it “exhausting”? This title ironically reverses the very idea it suggests. By appearing to “exhaust” itself, gesture paradoxically reveals its inexhaustibility and boundlessness, bringing to light the forgotten, infinite potential of the human body.