There Was Never a Beginning or End in the First Place
Candy Koh, <10:30> (Space 776, 9.30 – 10. 15, 2023)
Jaeyeon Chung
Independent Curator (NYC-SEOUL)
A sense that something has existed before and that it will continue to exist hereafter—A sense that I will exist forever. These were the emotions that Candy Koh’s artworks evoked within me when I encountered them for the first time. The art pieces speak: “Why can’t I smile so brightly like other people? Why am I always tired? Why do I perpetually feel so sad? Why does my heart race all the time? Why is everything so unenjoyable?” She asks, as though a scarecrow that acts without knowing the precious value of its true self. Yet, liberation and hope emanate from the works. Her powerful drawings are mournful, as though wailing their hearts out, but, at the same time, they appear very strong. Koh’s lyrical variations seep out through thick and winding drawings.
Untitled (20180605-Orange Head), 2018
graphite, watercolor, and oil pastel on paper
9.4 x 12.6 in
© Candy Koh, 2018
Koh used a brush to craft her pieces, yet the irregular lines give the impression of being created without one. For a moment, I lost my way amidst those intricate touches, that obscured where they began and ended. Only after a long gaze, beyond the transient boundaries of thirty seconds, does one realize that one walks in step with the work: The distorted and twisted drawings are not logical but impulsive, manifesting a kind of desire. Within her works, she continuously creates conflict, yet it is also her duty to resolve that conflict. A sense of repression exudes from her works, but she chooses communication and compromise as the key to unleashing that repression. Her persistent attempt at communication and compromise permeates throughout her exhibition, 10:30. Koh’s drawing-esque paintings and drawings done in swift gestures contain her feelings about the world and the universe. These paintings are spontaneous and suggestive. Koh’s works before 2020 reveal forcefully scrawled and whipped-around lines, carrying a heavy sense of visual weight. They are simple yet complex. Along with the previously mentioned lines with mysterious start and end points, the artist used odd colors by mixing and diluting 2 or 3 colors, rather than clear and distinct colors. Smudging, and rubbing, Koh tries to express a sense of frustration through her paintings, but the more she tries to resolve it, the deeper she sinks into a labyrinth. With an obsessive method, she disperses the gaze and then reconcentrates it. After 2020, Koh’s eye is still ambiguous yet generous; she uses clearer and brighter color tones and slows down the swiftness of her brush.
Untitled (202012-Oil), 2020
acrylic on canvas
20 x 16 in
© Candy Koh, 2020
What is the stream of consciousness that Koh seeks? It is to express the experiences, thoughts, and feelings of the past in their most visceral, raw form. Bluntly put, like a howl or a purge. Carl Jung says that the general function of dreams is to restore psychological equilibrium through the production of dream subjects. If we understand her work to be showing things that enter her consciousness, perhaps she foresees a psychological state or potential in the future. Jung at times mentions his analysis of long-standing archetypes in early religions and cultures; in Koh’s works, we can observe expressions based on traditional themes and shamanistic representations. Her ongoing performance teller, which she has continued since 2018, is as if the artist performs the role of a “shaman,” communicating with visitors and extending emotional sympathy. If Jung is a shaman who summons dreams and memories and brings out archetypes and e collective unconscious, Koh presents herself as a shaman who cures, comforting the hearts of those uncertain and anxious about the future. Abandoning a theoretical perspective, she plays the role of aiding others, understanding their stories and dreams. That’s how she continues her artistic practice. Ultimately, humans are those who take it away but also the ones who fill it back up. I also drew the hopes that would fill up my past and future, tied it to her sculpture, and left. Rubbing the rough surface of the thick rebar, a memo that heals the past and caresses the future.
The works with the continual title Untitled resemble autographs meant to reveal her existence. The date is consistently positioned at the bottom right. An autograph is like a final testimony of self-revelation. The strength derived from self-awareness, to reveal and affirm the existence of her true self, has shaped who she is now. As one fluidly traces the lines of her drawings, whose beginning and end are both unknowable and unnecessary to discern, one will encounter something different. The rough and simplified drawings of 2023 incorporate a sense of humor. Perhaps because of her background in literature and writing, the drawings sometimes read like text, structured with an order and system. What appears to be an 'unreadable text' is a 'writable text.' I can neither read nor write what she has drawn, but let's interpret it as “I accept.” Her long-term struggles with health and poor vision have impacted her artistic endeavors. Yet, despite the works not always being perfect, I can imagine her immersed in drawing every day. The act of drawing for drawing’s sake is joy itself. Even if some drawings did not contain any particular narrative, she may have cherished them because they encapsulated her essence. Perseverance epitomizes her craft, and I hope that she continues her artistic journey. I hope that the myriad forms she paints, oscillating between the inception of joy and the demise of misery, culminate in an ending that she desires.
Untitled (202209-Blot), 2022
acrylic on canvas
20 x 16 in
© Candy Koh, 2022
When you open your palm, numerous lines are drawn across it. Palm reading is a technique that penetrates the human heart, a practice familiar to all mankind. Looking at the countless lines drawn on white paper feels like looking at the lines on her palm. The numerous lines converge at a single point, then scatter again into multiple paths. The lines of inescapable destiny, like reality unfolding from her hands. From what I can see, Candy Koh herself is a hand that draws, one that finds satisfaction in merely drawing the lines and wielding a brush. In this sense, this exhibition seems particularly meaningful as an encapsulation of her entire body of work. I hope she continues to create works that are even more like her than her current self, even though the countless trials and obstacles where she may stumble and fall – just like her name. *
Untitled (202206/07-Peach Green), 2022
acrylic on canvas
20 x 16 in
© Candy Koh, 2022
*Candy was named by her mother after a character in the manga series Candy Candy that was popular in Korea in the 1970s, after importation from Japan. The theme song in the animated series created later, describes the character Candy as one who goes through a multitude of hardships in her life, but perseveres no matter what.
Peach (20230807), 2023
graphite, acrylic marker, and oil pastel on paper
18 x 24 in
© Candy Koh, 2023
Candy Koh (they/she) is an American artist who currently lives and works also as a translator, writer, and attorney in New York City. Cycling through various industries throughout the years such as writing, carpentry, marketing, and law, they gained a unique perspective and approach to art-making. After receiving a BA in Sculpture and Literature from New School University, they graduated with an MFA in Art Writing and Criticism from the School of Visual Arts in NYC. They also hold a JD from Fordham University School of Law.
October. 2023, Published by ACK. The copyright of the article published by ACK is owned by its author.
There Was Never a Beginning or End in the First Place
Candy Koh, <10:30> (Space 776, 9.30 – 10. 15, 2023)
Jaeyeon Chung
Independent Curator (NYC-SEOUL)
A sense that something has existed before and that it will continue to exist hereafter—A sense that I will exist forever. These were the emotions that Candy Koh’s artworks evoked within me when I encountered them for the first time. The art pieces speak: “Why can’t I smile so brightly like other people? Why am I always tired? Why do I perpetually feel so sad? Why does my heart race all the time? Why is everything so unenjoyable?” She asks, as though a scarecrow that acts without knowing the precious value of its true self. Yet, liberation and hope emanate from the works. Her powerful drawings are mournful, as though wailing their hearts out, but, at the same time, they appear very strong. Koh’s lyrical variations seep out through thick and winding drawings.
Untitled (20180605-Orange Head), 2018
graphite, watercolor, and oil pastel on paper
9.4 x 12.6 in
© Candy Koh, 2018
Koh used a brush to craft her pieces, yet the irregular lines give the impression of being created without one. For a moment, I lost my way amidst those intricate touches, that obscured where they began and ended. Only after a long gaze, beyond the transient boundaries of thirty seconds, does one realize that one walks in step with the work: The distorted and twisted drawings are not logical but impulsive, manifesting a kind of desire. Within her works, she continuously creates conflict, yet it is also her duty to resolve that conflict. A sense of repression exudes from her works, but she chooses communication and compromise as the key to unleashing that repression. Her persistent attempt at communication and compromise permeates throughout her exhibition, 10:30. Koh’s drawing-esque paintings and drawings done in swift gestures contain her feelings about the world and the universe. These paintings are spontaneous and suggestive. Koh’s works before 2020 reveal forcefully scrawled and whipped-around lines, carrying a heavy sense of visual weight. They are simple yet complex. Along with the previously mentioned lines with mysterious start and end points, the artist used odd colors by mixing and diluting 2 or 3 colors, rather than clear and distinct colors. Smudging, and rubbing, Koh tries to express a sense of frustration through her paintings, but the more she tries to resolve it, the deeper she sinks into a labyrinth. With an obsessive method, she disperses the gaze and then reconcentrates it. After 2020, Koh’s eye is still ambiguous yet generous; she uses clearer and brighter color tones and slows down the swiftness of her brush.
Untitled (202012-Oil), 2020
acrylic on canvas
20 x 16 in
© Candy Koh, 2020
What is the stream of consciousness that Koh seeks? It is to express the experiences, thoughts, and feelings of the past in their most visceral, raw form. Bluntly put, like a howl or a purge. Carl Jung says that the general function of dreams is to restore psychological equilibrium through the production of dream subjects. If we understand her work to be showing things that enter her consciousness, perhaps she foresees a psychological state or potential in the future. Jung at times mentions his analysis of long-standing archetypes in early religions and cultures; in Koh’s works, we can observe expressions based on traditional themes and shamanistic representations. Her ongoing performance teller, which she has continued since 2018, is as if the artist performs the role of a “shaman,” communicating with visitors and extending emotional sympathy. If Jung is a shaman who summons dreams and memories and brings out archetypes and e collective unconscious, Koh presents herself as a shaman who cures, comforting the hearts of those uncertain and anxious about the future. Abandoning a theoretical perspective, she plays the role of aiding others, understanding their stories and dreams. That’s how she continues her artistic practice. Ultimately, humans are those who take it away but also the ones who fill it back up. I also drew the hopes that would fill up my past and future, tied it to her sculpture, and left. Rubbing the rough surface of the thick rebar, a memo that heals the past and caresses the future.
The works with the continual title Untitled resemble autographs meant to reveal her existence. The date is consistently positioned at the bottom right. An autograph is like a final testimony of self-revelation. The strength derived from self-awareness, to reveal and affirm the existence of her true self, has shaped who she is now. As one fluidly traces the lines of her drawings, whose beginning and end are both unknowable and unnecessary to discern, one will encounter something different. The rough and simplified drawings of 2023 incorporate a sense of humor. Perhaps because of her background in literature and writing, the drawings sometimes read like text, structured with an order and system. What appears to be an 'unreadable text' is a 'writable text.' I can neither read nor write what she has drawn, but let's interpret it as “I accept.” Her long-term struggles with health and poor vision have impacted her artistic endeavors. Yet, despite the works not always being perfect, I can imagine her immersed in drawing every day. The act of drawing for drawing’s sake is joy itself. Even if some drawings did not contain any particular narrative, she may have cherished them because they encapsulated her essence. Perseverance epitomizes her craft, and I hope that she continues her artistic journey. I hope that the myriad forms she paints, oscillating between the inception of joy and the demise of misery, culminate in an ending that she desires.
Untitled (202209-Blot), 2022
acrylic on canvas
20 x 16 in
© Candy Koh, 2022
When you open your palm, numerous lines are drawn across it. Palm reading is a technique that penetrates the human heart, a practice familiar to all mankind. Looking at the countless lines drawn on white paper feels like looking at the lines on her palm. The numerous lines converge at a single point, then scatter again into multiple paths. The lines of inescapable destiny, like reality unfolding from her hands. From what I can see, Candy Koh herself is a hand that draws, one that finds satisfaction in merely drawing the lines and wielding a brush. In this sense, this exhibition seems particularly meaningful as an encapsulation of her entire body of work. I hope she continues to create works that are even more like her than her current self, even though the countless trials and obstacles where she may stumble and fall – just like her name. *
Untitled (202206/07-Peach Green), 2022
acrylic on canvas
20 x 16 in
© Candy Koh, 2022
*Candy was named by her mother after a character in the manga series Candy Candy that was popular in Korea in the 1970s, after importation from Japan. The theme song in the animated series created later, describes the character Candy as one who goes through a multitude of hardships in her life, but perseveres no matter what.
Peach (20230807), 2023
graphite, acrylic marker, and oil pastel on paper
18 x 24 in
© Candy Koh, 2023
Candy Koh (they/she) is an American artist who currently lives and works also as a translator, writer, and attorney in New York City. Cycling through various industries throughout the years such as writing, carpentry, marketing, and law, they gained a unique perspective and approach to art-making. After receiving a BA in Sculpture and Literature from New School University, they graduated with an MFA in Art Writing and Criticism from the School of Visual Arts in NYC. They also hold a JD from Fordham University School of Law.
October. 2023, Published by ACK. The copyright of the article published by ACK is owned by its author.