Jiyoon Kim

twice a day by mouth 

May 7 – 15

Window Viewing: May 7 – 15, 12pm – 6pm

Gallery Viewing: May 12 – 14, 12pm – 6pm
– Reservation in advance or sign in at door upon arrival for admittance.
– Los Angeles County limits the space to 4 visitors at a time

In twice a day by mouth, Jiyoon Kim illuminates what is often overlooked by the individual and culture at large. Kim’s installations highlight the physical and emotional demands placed upon her body during repetitive labors: adapting between languages, feeding and cleansing the body (rinsing, squeezing, trimming), cleaning the house (vacuuming, dusting, doing the dishes), and managing pain.

In Kim’s artworks, the aesthetics, production, consumption, and usability of everyday objects become twisted: A dead fish is doused in shampoo, rendering it inedible; Painkillers failing to relieve pain, as it is cast of burnt sugar. Could these objects provide evidence of our labor? Are they leftovers from our habits? How have we become detached and desensitized from these objects? Do objects actually preserve and support our ability to function?  

The moving objects that Kim uses become poignant metaphors for the passive acceptance of violence that people allow in the society. She encourages viewers to consider their relationships to the ever-present processes of habituation and the psychological impacts that have become normal to us in these patriarchal and economic systems.

Though at times cynical and pessimistic, Kim’s work also provides moments of relief and healing through meditation and embracing absurdity. Created during the pandemic, in A Nonchalant Vacation, Kim presents a layered recording of a nightly practice in which she drags along string lights, drawing out English and Korean words on an empty parking lot. This work recognizes the act of translation as both a physical and an emotional act of labor. Thus, Kim intuitively articulates the normalized guilt and negligence that grows out of the pressure of productivity and assimilation.

Never one to move gently, Kim saws through blocks of cake, writes words out of string lights, grinds ibuprofen back into dust.