“Performing the same action over and over again to the point of absurdity, that's what defines my work.”
—Chung Sang-HwaChung Sang-Hwa’s Untitled 80-4-8, 1980, is a performance of labor and precision. The painting – entirely monochromatic upon first glance – reveals itself to be a kaleidoscope of dazzling orange and red, a patchwork of hues. The resulting effect is reminiscent of autumnal foliage, or a flickering bonfire. However, Chung’s methods are not spontaneous or organic as leaves or flames are. Rather, they are carefully planned and executed to achieve a particular result: to create a timeless visual language that expresses the Korean philosophy of assimilation with nature. In Untitled 80-4-8, there is a subtle grid hidden beneath an amalgamation of shapes and textures, almost invisible to the naked eye. Yet, this grid is not defined by paint but by tactility. Upon close inspection, one can see that the lines of the grid are ever so slightly raised, and within the squares of this grid are smaller and smaller shapes, each filled with a slightly different variation of orange or red. The result is a mosaic of brilliant earthy hues.
Beginning his monochrome practice and establishing the grid-like canvas structure for which he is known, Chung follows in the tradition of Dansaekhwa, the Korean art of monochrome painting which emphasizes the flatness of the canvas and rejects both realism and formalism. Dansaekhwa highlighted the struggle over national identity in post-war Korea. By using repetitive patterns, artists aimed to create a universal aesthetic style. The movement is also rooted in tradition, fundamentally inspired by meditative calligraphy and Taoist and Buddhist philosophy. In this manner, it stands alone as its own distinct movement, rather than as a response to Western aesthetics.
Chung’s painting process begins with spreading a mixture of kaolin clay, water and glue across the entire canvas evenly and waiting until the thick mixture has completely dried. The artist then removes the canvas from the wood stretcher and draws grids of horizontal and vertical lines on the reverse. Chung carefully folds the canvas along these drawn lines, ripping off paint from between the fissures, and filling in these bare spaces with layers of acrylic paint. The artist repeats this process of ”rip” and ”fill” until he finds an aesthetic harmony which is pleasing to him. In this way, Untitled 80-4-8 is a stunning example of Chung’s incredibly labor-intensive painting process, and it is this labor which makes the work such an effective piece – the effort of the artist made physical. The artist’s endless fragmentation seems to create space for the scared and holy, and, as described by critic Lee Yil, the artist’s paintings “infinitely proliferate into spaces for clandestine whispers.”
