Light, color, temperature, humidity, wind, even scent. Imagine the artist piercing through the membrane, that is, the landscape. Georges Didi-Huberman (b. 1953) interprets the theory of James Turrell (b. 1943) as a phenomenological asceticism of walking. Natural phenomena were fundamentally a symbolic channel that conveyed the meaning of words comprised of mythical narratives. However, landscapes are like nature that lost words. Civilization is gradually invading the wilderness and wiping out nature’s voice. Jang sets foot into the landscape and wanders in an unfamiliar place. Loitering without a destination is his purpose.
Excerpt from “Landscape of the Middle Voice” | Hyun Jung · Art Critic, Professor at Inha University
Jang Jaemin’s paintings are like tranquility at the moment heavy rain subsides. Clearing away the damp atmosphere, I recall the movement of sight proceeding towards the object. The persistently gazing eyes, shifting directions every moment, an obstinacy to seize the vestige of the vanishing sense. Jang’s works are paintings, more in the gestural sense, rather than the name of the object itself. His picture screen does not specify an ending and ardently embrace the vestiges of physical rhythmic movements. The landscape that has gone through a filter of the body is arranged in a new order. Perspectives get disarrayed and forms, distorted. The physical and mental distance from the object endlessly gets readjusted. Each time an identity is tracked, an unknown blankness appears. The picture screen filled with boisterous brushstrokes soon becomes desolate. Here is a world where the afterimage is remembered more clearly than the original.
Excerpt from “A World of Unfamiliar Gravity” | Miran Park · Curator, Exhibition Director at Hakgojae Gallery