This article was originally published in Spike Art Magazine in 2020.

This year was to have been a crucial one in South Korea’s ever-busy art scene, with the triple-whammy of the Gwangju, Busan and Seoul Media City Biennales set to take place in three of its major cities. The scene had witnessed a particular boom following the removal of the Park Geun-Hye regime in 2017 (which had in its time in power, created extensive black-lists of artists and curators, disqualifying them from state funding)which was followed by the ascendance of the populist Democratic Party led by Moon Jae-In. The Moon presidency saw an expansion of state funding at both federal and local levels, creating huge pools of resources for artists across the political spectrum. This expansion in funding coincided with Korea’s push towards using culture as soft power, with the global dominance of K-pop, and K-media, of which contemporary art became an extension. When the coronavirus hit the country, the government was swift to take action, and won international praise for its handling of the crisis. This propelled the incumbent government ahead in the polls, who then went on to win a decisive victory in this year’s election, held in the middle of the pandemic. In this backdrop, we are beginning to see the Korean art scene gradually and cautiously restart its gears, though the pandemic has left its marks, both in the long and short terms.
The Gwangju Biennale – whose much anticipated edition is being helmed by Natasha Ginwala and Defne Ayas – decided to postpone its 2020 program to the following year, a move welcomed by many. In contrast, the Seoul Media City Biennale, organized by the Seoul Museum of Art (SeMA) and the Busan Biennale, run by the city of Busan, have decided to push through with their programs. This despite the fact that both are being directed by curators – Yung Ma (Seoul Biennale) and Jakob Jakobssen (Busan Biennale) – who are based in Europe and would likely be unable to travel to Korea in the lead up to the Biennales. When asked for comment on this, Jimin Lee of the curatorial team at SeMA in charge of the realization of the Biennale, pointed out that this decision was one more of compulsion than choice: the rigidity of bureaucratic infrastructures of state funding would not allow the museum to postpone the exhibition, despite the curatorial team requests to this effect.  The Gwangju Biennale, undertaken by the Gwangju Biennale Foundation that operates somewhat independently, is able to operate more flexibly. The realization of this year’s edition of SeMA thus brings with it its peculiar logistical challenges, from restrictions on international travel limiting artists’ ability to conduct research for new commissions, to enforcing social distancing in Biennale contexts. Presently, museums in Seoul have reopened with a reservation policy in place, allowing only a certain number of visitors a day for a set amount of time, and visitors are required to provide personal information to enable contact tracing in the event of an outbreak.  

To understand the effects of this crisis on the Korean art scene, I spoke with Mijoo Park (Founder and director of the independent art space RAT); Hyunjin Kim (Independent curator and curator of the Korean National Pavilion at the Venice Biennale in 2019); and Jade Keunhye Lim (General Director, ArKo Art Center). 

Abhijan Toto (AT): With the gradual reopening of art spaces in Seoul, what do you think the scenario facing these spaces is? 

Mijoo Park (MP): Art spaces, including independent ones, have opened with protocols to allow contact tracing at exhibitions, with time limits for visiting shows and limiting the number of visitors. I opened a show on the 15th of May at WEEKEND (a new space in the Yeongdeungpo area of Seoul) and carried out thermal screening of visitors at the entrance too. I find myself asking: what do we mean by public at this time? Who is the public of these kinds of exhibitions? Right now, the informality of the art world has been halted; we can’t go and really socialize at openings. This will lead to people becoming excluded and networks becoming more cliquish, and certain kinds of circulation may become stagnant. I fear that this might lead to a situation where access to various sectors of the art scene – especially for younger or newer people, might become more difficult, with gatekeepers emerging, and ultimately this will limit possible collaborations.
For the moment, our community is against public programming. I have found online programming to be not as effective, usually becoming too single perspective oriented, and not as stimulating a space for discussion. People are still generally afraid to gather in smaller spaces; however, younger people don’t seem as concerned. I would say Koreans are overall quite relaxed, and there is a feeling of national pride in Korea’s response, and the healthcare system. At the same time, there is the anxiety of wanting to avoid any meeting becoming a cluster of infection. It’s a strange thing interacting in gatherings now, where everyone is wearing their masks, becoming something of an eye-contact society, and people are trying to socialize while keeping their distance; this really changes the atmosphere of interactions. 

AT: What do you see as the challenges facing independent art spaces and what are some of the responses like? 

MP: In Korea we are lucky as, as far as I know, no independent spaces had to shut down because of this situation. The peak of the crisis here fortunately coincided with what are usually lull periods in the calendar, so while some things did get cancelled, or postponed, the immediate impact wasn’t great. However, I think performance-based practices are going to be in particular jeopardy, although some are certainly trying to move to online programming, using platforms like Twitch.
The crisis hasn’t yet led to a dramatic change in programming either, though it’s still too early to tell. Unlike a lot of other places, Korea was not really under lockdown – mostly life was normal, even though institutions were closed. In fact, I would say the n-th room scandal that emerged around the same time created more of a shift in the scene, and we’re beginning to see people preparing projects to deal with that. Now, with the emergence of the COVID-19 cases in the LGBT clubs in Itaewon, I think that addressing questions of gender and sexuality are more important than ever. Korea is in many ways a very conservative society, and as women, much like LGBTQ people, we aren’t really allowed to express ourselves and our sexualities. This moment has definitely opened up a space to discuss this, and we are seeing more programming – such as an upcoming program at Space ON in July– that is trying to deal with this head on.
For me, I’ve become very interested in the conversation around Universal Basic Income in Korea, and understanding curatorial practice in relation to this – I think a larger section of the population has supports this idea now, although of course, this is also divided along age and political lines. The government gave individuals and families grants to help survive during the crisis which has opened this conversation up here. This pandemic gave people free time, which Koreans are not used to at all, and we saw a huge surge in the way Koreans consumed culture during this time. I think if we are able to introduce UBI here, cultural institutions will have a major role to play in creating greater access to culture and to other forms of education. 

AT: The Korean art scene is largely dependent on public funding, and we saw sizable emergency funds being put in place. Can you tell us about the impact these had in dealing with the crisis?

MP: The injection of emergency funding was very helpful to the scene. This was largely put in place by city governments and, of course, only open to Korean nationals. So Seoul city funding was handled by the Seoul Foundation for Arts and Culture. I think the total amount disbursed by SFAC in response to COVID-19 was around 3 million USD (3,862,885,050 KRW). This included different categories such as theatre, including children’s theatre, traditional art, literature as well as contemporary art. Unlike other places where emergency funding was given on a need-basis, the SFAC grants were still quite competitive, with 254 applicants out of 1770 being awarded funding. Interestingly, they also put funding in place for independent curators to continue their practices, as opposed to working towards the realization of a particular project, and exhibition spaces could also apply for a separate pool of funding from ArKO (the budget for which was also around $3 million). Overall, between these and existing streams of funds for studio maintenance etc from cities, I think we’re in a better situation than most. 

AT: The RAT School of Art functions primarily by bringing people together. What do you think the future holds for initiatives like it, and what long term impacts do you see the crisis having? 

MP: At the moment, we’re trying to get our program going, but the social distance policy will keep us from gathering like we used to. Small gatherings are allowed, and since the same group is meeting every time, it’s easier to trace. But we feel dramatically that the space of education changed – school was a meeting place: it’s not about just seminars or classes; it was a place to share an environment, some kind of commons, to find colleagues. Of course, school – and which school went to – means a lot in Korea, given the prestige value placed on education. But now that’s been taken away from us. Many art students choose to do MA because they have studios but now are no longer able to access these facilities, so that’s a terrible situation. RAT is able to do remote sessions, therefore include more people in our programs from other parts of Korea and  we are always focused on supporting people in the early stages of their career, which was crucial to us. Our international projects are stalled, and we don’t know when we can resume. The question is do we take risks, or do we try to do small things and keep it going? The positive thing with online programming is that we’re starting to see a very different group of people coming in, not just from within Seoul, and that’s a great thing for the RAT program, creating a different group dynamic. 

AT: You mentioned international collaborations being stalled. Can you tell us about how your international projects have been impacted, and what path forward you see?

MP: This is the big question: for example I had applied for a grant for a project in the Bangkok Biennial, but we don’t know what’s going to happen in a few months. We don’t know how long ARKO will allow us to postpone projects. Meanwhile flight costs are going up and this will impact our budgets and mobility.
We’re seeing COVID asking us whether the forms of institution we had are relevant, such as biennales – which seem to be happening for no real reason, no real audience. Thus, this might be a moment to introspect.  I’m also apprehensive that when we do have a vaccine for the virus, it will probably expose deep class divisions with regards to who would have access first. I’m deeply concerned about these divisions, and for this reason want to think how we can make what we do and our events less exclusive, not just for the privileged. To get there, I think within art institutions, we need to see more collaboration and coordination, and this crisis has made that more apparent. 

AT: Has this moment led to more coordination between small scale institutions?

MP:  The situation in Seoul is quite competitive, but this crisis has definitely made room for community conversations. A lot of the independently-run spaces can generally be quite cliquish, having been built up through school networks, and have been oriented towards serving those communities. They can be a little like an island. I’m beginning to see some unexpected networks emerging slowly, especially with my peers in the younger generation, though these are still at an early stage. It’s crucial to try to create more dialogue between colleagues; hopefully, moving us towards a more collaborative and less competitive atmosphere. 

AT: How would you say that the current situation impacted your practice and the scene?

Hyunjin Kim (HK): When the crisis began here, I was preparing to open the homecoming of the Korean Pavilion at the Venice Biennale that I had curated last year, entitled ‘History Has Failed Us, But No Matter*’ at the ArKo Art Centre. This was postponed by many months, and I was only just able to open it to the public, with the new safety protocols in place. Some of my other projects have also been postponed, or having to be done differently. I’m very hesitant about this turn towards online programming, especially with exhibitions being put online. An exhibition isn’t a prepackaged thing, and I feel like a lot of online projects aren’t really considering the digital platform as a serious medium. How do we consider the flatscreen, and how might it become implicated in the artistic process? What are its aesthetics, and its relations to social environments? I’m thinking a lot about Quad a play that Samuel Beckett created in 1981 specifically for television, which I find to be very interesting. I think we need to think about these questions [of the medium], and not just treat online presentations as documentation.  How do we think of these epistemologically in the new normal?
  Relatively, in Korea things have been normal, as we didn’t have a lockdown, and people are very eager to go back to normal life. But after the Itaewon incident, a new fear has come in, but the institutions are continuing to run and operate, with booking systems etc, but this may discourage the general public. We might be getting a more specific audience rather than a broader one.

AT: What kinds of systemic problems do you feel like this crisis has made visible, and how might we move towards possible solutions?

HK:  The bureaucratically oriented approach of funding bodies perhaps can be questioned in this moment, and we can imagine doing some kinds of exhibitions outside of the populist agendas set by them. I was on the jury for the Seoul Foundation for Art and Culture emergency funds, which provided significant support, for example giving $1800 USD a month to freelance curators just to do research for projects, but the number was limited. However, most of the funding was for the younger generation, which is important, but not much for midcareer artists, who become vulnerable. The commercial gallery system in Korea is not that strong, and many artists don’t have galleries who would support them and almost everyone relies on the public sector. This also has to do with the age hierarchy in Korea, where older people are expected to have already become established. It’s good to support the younger generation, but it’s perhaps a matter of concern that 80% of the emergency funding went towards this, which shows a general lack of balance.
Generally, in the last 10 years, we have also seen the space for freelancers shrink, and the institutional environment become more dominant.  At the same time, I don’t see local institutions being as inclusive of independent voices as they had been. If you don’t belong in the institutional framework, it becomes more and more difficult. In the 90s and early 2000s, we saw great projects and exchanges between independent curators internationally, and now those spaces are being taken up by institutions. As a result, international exchange projects don’t feel as focused on exchange as they do on “representing”. Currently, I also don’t see institutional curators taking on a role that is critical of infrastructure in which they belong, and I think this is linked to a general air of conservatism. The atmosphere is one of capitalist competition rather than collaboration. We need to be able to address these limitations of institutional practice in Korea. So these temporary funds are band-aid solutions and can’t be effective in the long run.

AT: We’re seeing the way that we have been used to work being abruptly changed. What kinds of shifts are you concerned with, particularly in your international collaborations?

HK: A big concern for me right now is how spaces can be connected to continue the conversations we have been having. Exhibitions are about creating encounters, between artists, curators, cities, spaces, institutions, and we are at risk of losing these. I was wondering why Seoul Media City and the Busan Biennale didn’t postpone their program, but I suppose they will try to orient them more towards local audiences. But if these international events become more domestic, I think that’s a real loss.

AT: What do you think gets lost here? 

HK: I think it’s almost a cosmological loss. You can imagine worlds within a room through the internet, but if you experience the world with your real eyes, and your real feet, it creates a different dimension of encounter. Seoul is a very convenient city, and you can really quite comfortably live within its boundaries. I think what is lost is the possibility of connections to other worlds, to other cosmologies, and this is what happens when things become more domestic, and I think this can become a very dangerous limitation, when we see the world through a very small lens. The neoliberal classism also comes from this uncomplicated point of view where you are unable to see the world in another way. There have been backlashes in Korea, as we see with recent events such as the Itaewon cluster situation. Many people in our generation have been discussing how younger people are becoming more conservative, in contrast to those of us who came up in the 90s. A good example is the rise of Trans Exclusive Radical Feminists in Korea, who are obsessed with narrow biological determinism, and their place in the neoliberal order, and not trying to open things up. For us, feminism is so much about creating space for the other, and if you are against trans* people, that’s very brutal. This is so clearly visible with the recent issue earlier this year where a trans* woman wanted to go to Sookmyung University, a woman’s university in Seoul, and had to withdraw after protests from other students. I think our beliefs of feminism are so important. The former global neoliberalism is itself in crisis right now and we have the chance to reflect on this now. We were really in the middle of a Cold War situation in the past [in Korea], where dictatorships were dominant. There is a double side to globalism, where on the one hand there is neoliberalism’s violence, but on the other hand there is the opening up of points of view. This crisis has brought us certain kinds of breakthroughs in thinking about capitalism, and it’s important not to lose these. We will have to see what kinds of backlash this kind of domesticization will bring. The current political party is quite middle ground (like Merkel in a way) but at least we have a democratic situation, and some transparency.  
This is a whole new experience for everyone. I think we really have to rethink our national identities: I’m revisiting the histories of Korean independence, when the country was liberated from Japan, which was the moment when we imagined the nation, and what it should be. We saw the emergence of many interesting models of imagining nationhood in Korea and what the values of our systems should be. This moment is one of big rupture, so we need to look at the kinds of radical gestures we can imagine, and how we can build better systems , outside of the total systemic collapse we are facing, and outside of the capitalist system we have known so far. 

AT: Where do we feel that this moment of crisis would take us, and how do we respond to its intellectual challenges?

HK: I feel like I’m standing in the liminal at the moment: we don’t really foresee clearly what is coming towards us. Even though the last several years have brought rapid changes, we could still imagine what might come on. I am trying to engage with how we might occupy this liminal moment, because it’s not that this is permanent nor is it the future. I am thinking about how we can turn to certain old world beliefs, and not just remain within the dialectic. How do we envision something truthful, and bring about a different kind of shift, where we don’t repeat the same problems and faults again. Artistically, perhaps thing-based practice, which is so bound to the market, is in crisis. At the same time the quality of physical engagement of artistic practice must be served, and we must imagine how we can serve this in a better way. 

Abhijan Toto (AT): How do you think that the Corona virus has impacted the Korean art community and institutions, and how do you foresee it's long term effects? 

Jade Keunhye Lim (JKL): Many major art museums in South Korea are government-funded; so in terms of finance, we are relatively less affected as a result of the pandemic. However, the cancellations of international exhibitions cause great difficulties in reorganizing our annual schedules and budget plans. Everything’s not so clear, as the medical experts anticipate that another big wave of the pandemic will occur in fall. This makes us so anxious because as a public institution we’re not yet fully accustomed to handling emergencies on this scale. 

However, privately-run art spaces and independent institutions are experiencing even more difficulties, as most of their exhibitions were cancelled or postponed during the peak of Covid 19. Also, art schools had been shut down for about three months until they partly reopened last week. Under this circumstance, many artists and curators who make a living by participating in exhibitions and teaching part-time are suffering from a reduction of income. 

For the artists and small-sized independent institutions – not only in visual but in general genres of arts - in financial trouble caused by Covid 19, governments and foundations in Korea give emergency fund; for instance, Art Council Korea announced to give 35,100 million KRW(=28.5 million USD) to the art institutions struggling to pay their staff and rent as well as to artists who lost their jobs because of the pandemic. In addition to this, the Culture Ministry is planning Korea’s largest-ever public art programs to create jobs for artists in need. This shows the role of the government to protect and support arts and artists in the time of crisis. It seems that the art world will continue to depend on the government and public sector until full recovery from the pandemic situation.

AT: What do you think are the challenges facing bodies like ARKO, and how have your own projects been affected? 

JKL: Since the last week of February, most public museums and galleries had been shut down under severe social distancing measures. Most of them reopened after 6th of May, allowing entry for limited numbers per hour with online reservations. They conduct temperature checks and hand sanitizations in the main entrance, require visitors to wear masks at all times and to keep a two-meter distance from one another. Following the same guidelines, ARKO opened <History has failed us but no matter>, the homecoming exhibition of the Korean Pavilion at the Venice Biennale 2019. 

Furthermore, museum education programs such as lectures for adults and workshops for kids have been cancelled or changed to be conducted online. Now it seems that online exhibitions on YouTube have become a kind of New Normal in museum practice. These changes lead me to reevaluate the importance of online platforms for museum programs.

AT: Do you feel that this crisis has exposed deep-rooted problems with existing institutions (such as bureaucratic inflexibility, lack of institutional coordination etc) , and if so, how might these be addressed and what strategies do you envision for the future? 

JKL: It's time to reflect on the current system in which the contemporary art world operates. Since the late 20th century, we’ve seen large museums and galleries expand globally, high profile exhibitions travel around the world and international events such as Biennales sprouting up across the globe. Do we necessarily have to spend money and time on travel to catch up on the global trend of contemporary art? Is that the only way for us to be international or to be part of the global art community? Can digital technologies provide an alternative? Personally, I’m excited that this moment will be a turning point to a new paradigm which have been explored and experimented by some progressive artists and institutions outside the mainstream such as community-based art collectives and the museums practising decolonization etc..

AT:  The crisis has led performance-based to be particularly affected. What do you think are the paths forward, and what do you think will change? 

JKL: Of course, the quantitative performance measurement is largely dependent on visitor number. Under the pandemic circumstances, it is impossible to reach the goal set up previously. Instead, the number of online exhibition visitors is increasing, which can be considered another important performance indicator.

The meetings, discussions and lectures on Zoom and online exhibition became a part of daily life. Online platforms may provide greater accessibility but I don’t think it will completely replace the experience of the real. Ironically, the more accessibility online platforms allow exhibitions, the more the audience want the richness and intimacy of artistic experiences that can only be obtained in real spaces. So, many people will enjoy art at both ends of the spectrum – digital and physical. 

AT: What do you think the future of international collaborative projects are, in a moment where, prior to the crisis, we had seen many avenues opening up, both within institutions and other kinds of spaces? 

JKL: For a while, restrictions on international travel and shipping will persist, because the reoccurrence of the pandemic is a possible scenario. However, I don’t think this will discourage art people from collaborating and exchanging ideas. The pandemic accelerates the use of new digital technology; Zoom meetings, VR exhibitions, hologram conferences will be the new normal. While the future of mega-sized international art events is nebulous, it is a good opportunity for us to experiment with new technologies for artistic or curatorial projects. I believe artists’ imagination will pave ways to the creative use of technology even further. 

AT:  What would be your personal reflections on these shared global moments, and what are some of the ideas you feel to be important going forward? 

JKL: How many people believe that the rapid spread of pandemic is the result of neoliberal globalization. After a long time, we are enjoying clear skies and clear waters thanks to the social distancing measure. I realize that we can save the earth by spending less and travelling less. This also means that we all have lived an unnecessarily busy life, spend money on unnecessary consumption. 

Also, watching on the SNS (social networking site) people in self-isolation trying their best to stay gay by creating and sharing artworks illustrates the importance of art and community spirit in daily life. Art is not about market value or reputation but about humanity and solidarity. In times of crisis, the importance of art is highlighted for this reason.