Still from Ryu Sungsil, BJ Cherry Jang 2018.4, 2018, single channel video, 6 minutes. Courtesy of the artist.
This article was produced in partnership with the Korea Arts Management Service (KAMS).
In 2018, a six-minute video entitledBJ Cherry Jang 2018.04 (2018) was uploaded to a YouTube account. At the beginning, the words “Emergency Broadcasting System” flicker in a banal font on a flashing yellow and blue screen. Over the sound of a ticking time bomb, a young Asian woman calling herself BJ Cherry Jang appears and speaks rapidly, announcing that North Korea has launched a missile toward Seoul and the apocalypse will occur at the end of the broadcast. Viewers can survive only by depositing money into her sponsorship account.
As with the broadcasting jockeys (BJs) on AfreecaTV, a popular peer-to-peer streaming service, her performance is set in someone’s personal domestic space. The props—including colorful artificial flowers in soju bottles and a calendar commonly found in Seoul restaurants—imply her nationality. Despite the absurd narrative, her persuasive dialogue makes the pseudo-apocalyptic announcement intriguing. Before you can determine whether the mentioned account actually exists, however, the video ends.
This was the renowned first work of Korean multimedia artist Ryu Sungsil, who appears herself in thick makeup as Cherry Jang. This work debuted around the time of her graduation from Seoul National University’s sculpture department, where she explored traditional media, but it deviates from the conventions of fine art.
Across the “Cherry Jang” (2018–21) multimedia series, Ryu exaggeratedly borrows from the grammar of commercial online content, particularly social media. The subsequent video, BJ Cherry Jang 2018.09 (2018), promotes a dubious “first-class citizenship” that promises a better life, including a lifetime of first-class travel. Cherry Jang later becomes an environmental activist who uploads a pretentious vlog and eventually succumbs to overwork. She even monetizes her death, presenting her funeral as a performance and sending a sing-along video titled 1st Class Carol Song (2020) that hawks tickets to heaven, where she supposedly rests.
In Ryu’s expanding universe, each character constructs satirical narratives mocking Korean capitalism. While Cherry Jang explores one-person media that targets audiences with a low digital literacy, another character, Lee Daewang (“Big King” in Korean), takes the spotlight as Cherry’s protégé, who becomes the chairman of “BigKing Travel,” a senior-specialized agency that embodies a distorted manifestation of filial piety.
The “BigKing Travel-Ching Chen Tour” (2019–20) series includes poorly edited video footage of unidentifiable vacation destinations, as well as installations loosely borrowing that imagery. The story is simple: An elderly man takes a package tour to the imaginary “Ching Chen” and returns home lifeless. The absurdity reflects the unique format of package tours in Korea—where groups swiftly visit affiliated tourist spots—and is heightened by a mobile, interactive, single-channel video, Bigking Travel 2020 (2020). In this work, Ryu’s other persona Natasha, a local tour guide, willingly sexually objectifies herself, using exaggerated gestures and excessive kindness to welcome the elderly, revealing the trip’s impure purpose.
Still from Ryu Sungsil, Bigking Travel Ching Chen Tour – Mr.Kim’s Revival 2019, 2019, single channel video, 25 minutes.
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“Value for money” is why Ryu chose online spaces of exhibition and dissemination as the primary channel for her narrative, instead of traditional galleries. Cherry Jang’s first video inspired an explosive response, garnering almost 323,000 views and 442 comments. By comparison, Ryu’s solo show at an alternative exhibition space attracted only 300 visitors. These may be mere statistics to some, but Ryu saw the potential to reach unconventional mass audiences with equal effort.
Her bold choice of distribution channel had a greater impact than anticipated, recalling predecessors such as the online response to Amalia Ulman’s Excellences & Perfections on Instagram or Jayson Musson’s ART THOUGHTZ on YouTube. YouTube users who encountered Ryu’s work without any background on the artist reacted in a raw, unfiltered manner, appreciating the absurd, impeccably crafted video not as fine art but as the work of a typical content creator. One viewer claiming to be a true fan of Cherry Jang even produced a spin-off video commemorating her death, reminiscent of viral memes circulated online.
Ryu’s 2022 solo show at Seoul’s Hermès Atelier, titled “The Burning Love Song,” reaffirmed her visual language, which recalls Hito Steyerl’s notion of “poor image.” Through the exhibition, Ryu’s intentional, lo-fi online imagery took shape physically.
With the premise of “What if Daewang were to promote his achievements?,” the exhibition showcased the aforementioned persona Lee Daewang’s successful transition from travel business to pet funeral service during the pandemic. Gallery visitors were invited to join a meticulously staged ceremony to mourn a beloved pet dog, which incorporated elements of an ordinary funeral.
The Burning Love Song, 2022, mixed media including video, variable installation, 10 minutes. Courtesy
Ryu’s previous sculptural works, such as BigKing Travel-Go Straight (2021)—a dog-shaped object suspended from the ceiling of SongEun Art Space with a QR code to a video—served as gateways to her virtual world. This project, however, within an institution located in an upscale shopping district, allowed her to fully exploit the physical space. Taking center stage was a room-filling installation reminiscent of Richard Serra’s Tilted Arc (1981). Ryu’s focus was not on the sculptural form or materials, however. Instead, printed digital images recalling the imagery in her previous works covered the surface, presenting a repetitive, banal aesthetic akin to a monumental or propaganda-themed park.
Ryu’s images draw on elements from the internet, which she (seemingly) collages using an editing tool that allows only copying and pasting, an approach transcending mere kitsch. She attributes this method to her personal experience: “My father … had me create promotional materials for his café,” she recalled. “Despite carefully arranging them according to the traditional aesthetics I learned in school, my version generated significantly lower sales compared to my father’s garish version with primary colors and bold fonts. It was a mind-blowing experience.” The harsh reality that the aesthetics of capitalist society are determined by monetary value inspired Ryu to reproduce this aesthetic through her crude imagery.
The artist explores a new dimension in her upcoming exhibition at Seoul’s artist-run gallery Cylinder in September, titled “The Fundraising for BigKing Air Engine Restoration (TBD).” In this show, Lee Daewang’s new “BigKing Air” airline seeks funding for its revival after a temporary suspension due to an accident involving a mechanic sucked into an engine. The shattered engine parts will be transformed into upcycled artworks to be shown and sold at the gallery, but Ryu’s focus is on investigating the lifecycle of memes.
The exhibition’s structure strategically places clickbait in dark online communities, such as Telegram, connecting community users to a shopping website where the physical artworks at Cylinder can be purchased. Ryu aims to attract nontraditional audiences beyond the conventional art crowd, possibly creating a social experiment that leads them to the offline realm of art sales, distribution, and appreciation.
Ryu Sungsil, “Big King Travel”
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Ryu’s next challenge involves approaching “without explanation” non-Korean audiences who lack an understanding of Korean society. For example, what is the missing word in the term “citizenship,” used in BJ Cherry Jang 2018.09? For the Korean viewer, it naturally brings to mind the phrase “American citizenship,” wryly exhibiting the subconscious toadyism prevalent in Korean society.
Ryu’s work is deeply rooted in a meticulous analysis of her sociopolitical context, so her upcoming projects during residencies at the Singapore Art Museum and the ISCP in New York, where she will engage with different environments, will mark another significant step in her journey.
LONDON (AP) — With a few daubs of a paintbrush, the Brontë sisters have got their dots back.
More than eight decades after it was installed, a memorial to the three 19th-century sibling novelists in London’s Westminster Abbey was amended Thursday to restore the diaereses – the two dots over the e in their surname.
The dots — which indicate that the name is pronounced “brontay” rather than “bront” — were omitted when the stone tablet commemorating Charlotte, Emily and Anne was erected in the abbey’s Poets’ Corner in October 1939, just after the outbreak of World War II.
They were restored after Brontë historian Sharon Wright, editor of the Brontë Society Gazette, raised the issue with Dean of Westminster David Hoyle. The abbey asked its stonemason to tap in the dots and its conservator to paint them.
“There’s no paper record for anyone complaining about this or mentioning this, so I just wanted to put it right, really,” Wright said. “These three Yorkshire women deserve their place here, but they also deserve to have their name spelled correctly.”
It’s believed the writers’ Irish father Patrick changed the spelling of his surname from Brunty or Prunty when he went to university in England.
Raised on the wild Yorkshire moors, all three sisters died before they were 40, leaving enduring novels including Charlotte’s “Jane Eyre,” Emily’s “Wuthering Heights” and Anne’s “The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.”
Rebecca Yorke, director of the Brontë Society, welcomed the restoration.
“As the Brontës and their work are loved and respected all over the world, it’s entirely appropriate that their name is spelled correctly on their memorial,” she said.
