Each of the three transparent water tanks contains a photo of 'Daegongbunshil', the former anti-communist office in Namyeong-dong. When the recorded voice of a person saying, ‘It hurts my heart so much when I see that black brick building,’ is played through the speaker, the water tank vibrates, causing the images placed underneath the water to break. As soon as the voice disappears, the tank stops shaking and becomes transparent. Clear Resolution explores the relationship between recorded memories and the people who encounter them through the dual system of ‘transparency’. When transparency serves as a means of mediation, it hides itself as if it does not exist, yet upon stimulus, it quickly transforms into a device of distortion. This work was presented as a site-specific installation at the exhibition 'Endless Void' held at the former anti-communist office in Namyeong-dong in 2019. The spoken line by the character in the recording is a recreated segment from an interview conducted in 2012, featuring a man known as a 'torture technician', who inflicted torture on democratic activists at the former anti-communist office in Namyeong-dong. In the later part of the interview, it was revealed that his anguish comes from the building no longer being utilized for the interrogation of individuals labeled as communists.



*
A Ping Pong Ball: On a Site-Specific Work that Has Left Its Place.

What can replace the site-specificity of a work after it has left its original place? My experience during the installation provided me one possible way - representing the site through an element embodying one's memory of the place.

As I opened the lid of a radiator that had been left untouched for an unknown amount of time to install the speaker, I discovered an old dusty ping pong ball resting at the bottom. I found it strange but decided not to remove it, leaving it undisturbed. Instead, I took a photo of the ball and posted it on social media along with an explanation of the discovery. A fellow artist who saw the photo, then told me an astonishing story. It turned out that the adjacent room from where my work was being installed had previously served as a resting area for police officers who once occupied the building. The officers played ping pong in that room, and I could imagine that the ball I found had bounced and rolled out of that space at that time. That room, in fact, was a site where horrific torture occurred against people who were fighting for democracy in the 1980s. Upon learning that someone would casually play ping pong in such a place, an inexplicable emotion washed over me, and I felt as if the sound of hundreds of bouncing balls echoed in my ears.