Hakuna Matata or Sa Suk-Won's Story of Africa
"Hakuna Matata." This Swahili phrase as the title of Sa Suk-Won's solo exhibition means "there are no worries." This is also a name of a song in the Disney's multi-award winning musical, The Lion King. "There are no worries." Yes, this sounds great. All living things under the sun, let's don't worry! However, unfortunately, the expression itself already implies "there are too many worries" in this world. It might be rather that you have no choice but to say "don't worry" because you are weighed down by so many troubles. As is suggested by the Buddhist term, "kuhai" (the Bitter Sea), life is to sail through the troubled waters. Indeed, sufferings or worries might be a relative thing. But, in a more fundamental sense, you can state that the very nature of existence is agony. Nevertheless ―or therefore―, the most heartwarming greeting to us is such things as 'Hakuna Matata!' or 'Don't Worry!'
Then, why does the artist bring up the term? Is it a comforting greeting for those who drift on the sea of suffering? "Hakuna Matata!" he says loudly. It sounds like a cheerful invitation to his 'consolatory performance' for all lives. Before entering the concert venue, it would be better to be given some clues about the artist Sa Suk-won, at least roughly. In a word, he is a popular artist. He has been long recognized in the art market. His whole life has been dedicated solely to painting and probably for this reason, his solo shows pleased the viewers every time with a new vocalization. Recently, he guides them to Mt. Geumgang and then immediately; to the sea. And again in this exhibition, he leads you to the unusual stage, the world of healing, that is, of 'Hakuna Matata!' or 'Don't Worry.'
* Who is Sa Suk-won?
He rarely spoke until he was seven years old. Solitariness was his nature. He has never had a job. In short, he was a loner whose daily routine is to 'work alone and play alone.' He is an enthusiast of loneliness. In fact, solitude is what encourages artists create. Politicians or businessmen loves gatherings with people but artists are the other way around. Accordingly, he says, "a painter is fated to be lonely. It is only after he becomes alone that he is qualified for true happiness. Only a loner can be free and an artist without freedom is wretched. A free life is possible in voluntary confinement. When the time limit for confinement is due, he will fly swimmingly and then, be confined again when the time is come. I will live in that way all my life." This is a sincere confession of a voluntary recluse and simultaneously, a comment on the fundamental attitude as a painter. With such attitude, Sa has persistently followed the path of a professional painter.
Raised in an extended family setting, Sa does not seem to be a satisfactory student. Above all things, he did not like learning at school. He says he never did his homework during the entire six years of elementary school and so, got slapped by teachers more than two hundred times. I could hardly believe my ears! This famous painter did not his homework even once throughout his elementary school years and got a box on the ear several hundred times! This is unthinkable. What consoled this young boy was painting. When he was in the first grade of high school, he was hospitalized to undergo an operation on his nose. However, he was so haunted by images of Chinese ink landscape painting which he had just began to study that he sneaked away from the hospital and painted in the studio all night. The sutures were torn apart and much bleeding from the surgical wound continued, but he kept on painting and did not go back to the ward until the dawn, when the curfew is lifted. This episode early in his career shows how indefatigable and devoted this teenager art student was. Perhaps, he may have experienced what the saying, "not crazy, not get it", means. After that, he established the foundation as an artist during his college days, which was also a time of social and political upheaval in Korea. The following is a rough sketch of the period.
"(After entering high school,) I at first found it very boring to rub an ink stick quite a while and then paint on Chinese drawing paper with a long-haired brush. I painted over and over again almost all subject matters of Chinese painting such as the Four Gracious Plants, landscapes, figures, flowers and birds, and still life, and practiced even abstract painting in such a way that a blister and a callosity formed on my right middle finger. My paintings at that time were largely based on the Southern school of Chinese painting, which has influenced me to this day. In my college days, I sometimes got too big for my breeches and was sometimes seized with fear in secret despair. When many people struggled for faith, justice, and freedom on the historical stage of the Gwangju Democratization Movement, I was merely a detached spectator. I remember that I myself had several times of shouting slogans, running into clouds of tear-gas and wiping off tears with my fists, which, nevertheless, was to enable myself to say that I too was not altogether ignorant of it. After all, I chose moderate comfort rather than passionate purity. Though Heidegger said an artist is a watchman who is waiting for the light of truth in the dark, my artistic intention was a far cry from it. My studio was lit up until late at night and sometimes, until day broke. However, this was not the torch for the truth, but the egoistic flush for greed, which, of course, I admitted only after a long time." (Excerpt from the artist's note in the solo exhibition catalog, Manhwa Bangchang[2007])
It seems that his background of studying traditional paintings was greatly helpful in his artistic career. And he agonized over history and the people of his country, while he was not in the front of struggle. However, he cannot have been indifferent to the sufferings of his time, for he already understood that an artist is a watcher waiting for (or rather, should win) the light of truth. Sa thought himself flushed with egoism but this self-awareness is an exceedingly valuable experience. A frank statement conveys trust to the audience, for art is the catcher of truth.
The painter keeps away from the digital age, strictly adhering to the analogue. He does not use the computer and writes on manuscript paper: a life style that is different from that of most people of his age. He might look old-fashioned for an artist who has just entered his fifties. However, his philosophy of life is to live humanly in this era of the loss of humanity, that is, to 'live slowly.' He knows too well about the 'meaninglessness of first-come, first-served,' and about how many are missed when you are in a great hurry. Furthermore, he always asks himself what he is going to do in the time gained by making haste. In brief, he is an advocate of 'enjoying the world that is slowly stunning.' In this sense, he seems to be a sort of natural-born artist, because the slow living accompanied by the health tonic called solitude inevitably and naturally leads to artistic creation.
* The Leading Roles of "Hakuna Matata": The Animal Kingdom
Then, who are the leading roles of this solo exhibition, "Hakuna Matata"? The works presented in this show can be grouped into three parts: the series of African animals, Korean tigers and horned owls, and dogs. Though the first series has a majority, the subject matter in general is animal. The artist, who had held solo exhibitions featuring his paintings on Mt. Geumgang and the sea, began to pay attention to African wild animals after his three weeks' journey to this land of natural beauty. Witnessing the bloody life of savage beasts who are governed only by the law of the survival of the fittest and keep on their toes every minute not to fall victim to the stronger predators, he came to be aware that they are also bound by the suffering of subsistence as much as human beings. Through these various kinds of animals, Sa brought out a symbolism or an epic statement. Devoted entirely to working during the last three years, he completed more than eighty pieces, most of which are large scale: the leading players on the stage of "Hakuna Matata." These ambitious pieces are going to be made public simultaneously both in Seoul and Busan, which is quite exceptional for Korean solo exhibitions. It takes more than five years for paintings with thickly laid paint to be dried thoroughly. In the exhibition room, you would probably inhale the scent of paints which still bears the personal odor of the artist. It might be an opportunity of your animal sense of smell.
"After traveling to Africa, his animal series became more powerful, for they represent the sorrowful destiny imposed upon all life, beyond an individual's vitality. They are both delightful but doleful, both plaintive and beautiful. 'Fear comes from suspicion. You have to live without having suspicion of any kind' says this middle aged artist who has molded his life with painting, liquor, and journey." (Kyunghyang Shinmun, August 24, 2009.)
In his recent animal paintings, he lays focus on 'afflictions.' He draws out a symbolism from those animals struggling not to disappear on the earth. These big-bodied creatures such as lions, tigers and elephants may give an impression of the dignity of a sovereign but they also undergo hardships. The painting of a hunting cheetah, for example, shows an astonishing scene: the back half of this scampering animal is cut away from the body. If the severed part is the life of the past years, the remaining front part means the present or the life to come. The same goes for his lions and tigers. In this way, through these half bodied creatures, the artist insists on the preciousness of life. Wild beasts are now increasingly threatened and endangered. Does it mean that they ought to feel grateful that they can at least maintain the half of the body? These paintings are both a paradoxical testimony and a remonstration. Then, is the 'half' life apply only to the case of animals? How about man?
Korean tigers are considerably symbolic. Sa depicted this beast from various angles, many of which wear a mask. Tigers are said to have become extinct in the Korean peninsula during the Japanese Occupation of Korea. So, the artist collected household items used in the colonization period, that is, the era when tigers disappeared, and changed them into tiger's faces. Using these cheap curios including fans, 壽福(meaning 'longevity' and 'blessing') letter embroidery, traditional Korean clothes for children, fabrics, and other trivial articles, he produced their masks. The mask here seems to be the last self-rescue measure of the former king in mountains who aspires to survive even by hiding who he was. Tigers in a mask! In this age, even a king needs a mask to protect his majesty. In what way is this related to man? What does a mask mean to man?
Sa's animal kingdom is not altogether a peaceful savanna. It reminds you of the fundamental truth that animals too are in agony, falling into the brutal competition for survival. The creatures in Sa's grassland include not only big-bodied wild beasts but also dogs like pets. The dog series are about the anguish of this animal, showing that even pets showered with affection by their masters fully know and therefore, are worried about that they could be deserted any time. Dogs in his paintings are 'those who are struggling not to be abandoned.' They always study their master's face not to lose love. Perhaps, is it their fate? The struggle to be loved, is this the destiny of all living things? Then, can man in modern society be free from this tragedy? To which side are you belonging, affected or abandoned dogs, or something else?
I remember watching a very impressive scene on TV where a group of gnus, the supposed hybrid of goat and cow, were crossing a river. When they are crossing, several gnus become the prey of crocodiles of their own accord so that their fellows can get across safely. I was deeply touched by this self-sacrifice found in animals. And I think Sa is one of those who truly understand animals and who they really are, and thereby, delivers powerful messages more than slogans like "love animals!" Here is a beautiful passage from a poem that I read recently.
Devotedly and lovingly, a mother cow is licking her new born baby, with tears in her eyes, as if sorry for bequeathing the bestial life of hers, as if sorry for giving the likeness of hers.
In this short poem, "Compassion" by Bok Hyo-geun, a mother cow feels sorry to her baby because she made it to be born into an animal body. Is it really true that even cows think and feel in that way? Then, what is the being called man that brings meat to the table almost everyday? The creatures painted by Sa, wearing the shape of animals, send out strong messages to the human world through the mirror of bestial beings. Do the two strains named animal and man have no relation between each other, as might be expected?
* Expressive Characteristics
Though he began his career using the traditional media, he is frequently produces oil-on-canvas paintings now. His works are marked by vivid colors, thick and rough texture, and simple composition. The artist uses primary colors so freely and boldly that they look eveb flamboyant and flashy, which would be rarely found among painters. However, the harmony among colors, which was carefully considered by the artist, creates a dynamic and cheerful atmosphere in the canvas. Another characteristic feature is that he did away with brushes and palettes. He squeezes the paints directly on the canvas, which gives a coarse and thick texture to the surface. In most cases, primary colors and thick texture predominate in his animal series, which more and less results in relatively simple compositions. In a few words, his expressive characteristics can be put into as follows: strong dynamism and lively vitality.
On the other hand, the works exhibited in "Hakuna Matata" are remarkable in terms of materials used, in that they are painted not on canvas but on chalkboard. The chalkboard is an educational object used in schools. While it is gradually disappearing in classrooms today, our memory of school days begins with this dark-colored board. Sa chose the board in place of the canvas, as a new expressive medium. It is heavier than the canvas and needs more paints due to its surface made of stone dusts, but has the advantage in conservation. However, what is more noteworthy in his using this new material is his relation with immigrant workers in Korea. Carrying chalkboards with him, the artist went to sites where foreign workers were concentrated and asked them to write a letter on the board in their own native language. Gradually, the boards became full of the writings of people from various countries including Bangladesh, Mongolia, Thailand, the Philippines, Vietnam, China, and South America. They were in large part wondering if their family were all well, showing their pride in their own country, or making religious expressions. Whether you can understand them or not, these letters in different languages not only form the background of the paintings but also give a pictorial effect along with the authenticity of their content. For example, the phrase such as "一生平安"(lifetime calmness) in one Chinese letter draws attention, for it bears a close parallel to the artistic theme of the exhibition.
It was an accidental experience that led Sa to have interest in immigrant workers. After having showed the way to a foreigner one day, he became concerned about them and wanted to capture their sincere voices in his works. Writing their inner stories in their mother tongue on the board offered some of them an opportunity of self-healing and helped others to get rid of stress. He preserved these letters written in chalk and put various forms like those of animals on them. Because the whole picture may look empty if you spare the oil colors lest they should cover the foreign characters on the base, the writings were almost erased in some cases. Nevertheless, the letters in these chalkboard works represent the hardships of those who moved to this foreign land and work laboriously for subsistence. And these marks of struggle are overlapped with the life field of wild beasts, creating another symbolism through the juxtaposition between the two presences of the needy workers living in wretched conditions and of creatures in African savanna fighting for survival.
The artist's "Hakuna Matata" or "Don't Worry" is also another expression both anguish and healing. Through the looks of animals, or the chalkboard pieces involving the participation of foreigners, he aims to convey the pain (of substance) and the cure of it. His light-hearted and playful expressions look like fairy tales but simultaneously, speak the symbolic language of genuineness. Before them, you will feel the suffering and the delight of life. The intensity of great joy lies in vitality and viability. He wants to lay the hands of healing on our modern society as much as on the grassland of wild animals. Thus, he transmits the sound of mercy in the middle of the battle field where only the fittest survive and advocates the philosophy of slowness in this competitive society, in this speed-obsessed age. And once more he says: Hakuna Matata!
Yoon Beom-Mo (Art Critic)
