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Licht

빛

Media Wall Interdisciplinary Performance
Asia Culture Center, Gwangju, Korea
2018 · Restaged 2019

Credit
Director / Video   Jayoung Chung
Selected · 2018 4 Walls Media Open Call, Asia Culture Center

1. The Site of the Work

The media wall at the Asia Culture Center stands back-to-back with the old Jeollanam-do Provincial Office — now the Democracy and Human Rights Center for Peace — the final site of resistance in the May 18 Democratization Movement. While video plays, the mesh-material media wall conceals what lies behind it: the ground where the uprising actually took place. The surface spectacle risks obscuring the real place and event behind it.

In response, portraits of the martyrs were hung before the provincial office, and thirty-eight lights were installed in front of them. The moment the video disappears, the lights come on and illuminate the faces. This transition — where the vanishing of the image meets the emergence of light — is the center of the work.

2. The Space Light Opens

In Licht, light changes the direction of the gaze. As the video disappears and thirty-eight lights come on, the faces and the old Jeollanam-do Provincial Office emerge from behind the screen. The viewer’s attention shifts from the moving image to the people and place it had briefly concealed.

Augustine distinguished visible brightness from the light by which truth is recognized. I consider this distinction in the passage between seeing a face and encountering the life to which it bears witness. As light reveals the contours of a face, seeing becomes a recognition of that person’s absence.

The ten scenes, from “Soundless Shouting” to “Into the Darkness,” pass through moments of rising, advancing, consolation, and disappearance. What follows, “Light, Was. And the Resurrection of Light,” can be read as a scene in which the memory of those who have disappeared continues through other people’s hands and candles. The image goes dark, but the gaze that has encountered a face remains.

3. The Face Opened by Light

For Balthasar, recognizing a face is an ontological event — as an infant learns beauty, goodness, and truth from its mother's face. To lose sight of a face, like Cain whose "countenance fell" before God, is to lose relationship and humanity itself.

The photograph of this installation shows that contrast directly. The grid of windows, each holding a face, is an independent form through which — as with the form of Christ for Balthasar — glory becomes visible: not an anonymous death, but a named one. The countless red and gold specks scattered across the other screen are light without form — particles never individuated into a face, close to the "totality" Levinas warned against. For Levinas the face is not an image but an expression; its deepest meaning is the first commandment, "Thou shalt not kill."

The moment the lights come on and the windows brighten is the event that returns this mass to a face — nameless points restored to faces, to names, to "you."

As the thirty-eight lights come on, viewers encounter the faces of people who once lived beyond the screen. The work creates the conditions for that encounter, then withdraws.

4. The Mesh Wall: Between Idol and Icon

For Jean-Luc Marion, the distinction between idol and icon concerns the relationship between image and gaze. The idol holds the gaze by fulfilling the viewer’s expectations. Before it, viewers receive back what they wished to see. The icon reverses this relationship. A presence that cannot be contained in the visible form calls the gaze to attention, and viewers sense that they, too, are being looked at.

The mesh wall in Licht holds the possibility of such a turn in the gaze. While the video plays, light across its surface draws the viewer’s eyes and conceals the old Jeollanam-do Provincial Office and the faces behind it. When the video disappears and the lights behind it come on, the actual place and faces emerge through the surface that had held the gaze. The material of the mesh wall remains the same, but the relationship through which it is seen changes.

I read this moment as the possibility of an iconic experience. Seeing a face does not mean knowing the entirety of that person’s life and death. Rather, it recalls a person whose existence no image can fully contain. Viewers are prompted to ask what they had been looking at, and what they had failed to see.

The mesh wall is thus both a surface that presents images and a membrane that makes room for their withdrawal. Once the scene created by the work recedes, the people and history that preceded it meet the viewer.

5. The Vanishing Presence

At this moment of transition, the performer briefly stands and disappears. Not representing anything — simply present for a moment, connecting the audience and the martyrs, then withdrawing. This presence, wholly given yet never possessed, resonates with the way the risen Christ "vanished from their sight" the instant he broke bread at Emmaus.

6. The Last Night, Toward the Last Supper

On the final night, those who remained in the provincial office knew that staying meant death — and still they did not leave. A body voluntarily remaining in the face of death overlaps with the scene of the Last Supper. "This is my body, given for you" is not the language of escape but of self-giving.

This form of the last night became the decisive impetus for later giving form to the Last Supper of the Mass. Licht interprets the events of Gwangju through a biblical frame — and that interpretation, in turn, lets us see the Last Supper anew.

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