I (ASK)
Artistic practice is inherently tied to the movement of “position”—both in terms of its displacement and the velocity of that shift—in the act of representing nature. Yet, when all positions are already occupied, and the occupied ones merely switch places at high speeds, art risks being reduced to the mere function of a medium. This monopolization of positionality has historically and socially solidified into dominant structures where only flashy accelerations draw attention. Within such a framework, artistic activity starts to resemble a reckless race.
In the Fast & Furious films, Jason Statham’s character doesn’t race toward a destination. Instead, he immerses himself in speed and incident, demonstrating a sharp instinct in handling unpredictable moments. His actions overlap uncannily with the emotional tension and aesthetic urgency often found in contemporary art. Some argue that this kind of intensity and uncertainty is the very essence of art’s experimental spirit. But this is a misconception. A speeding driver sees neither the landscape nor draws closer to nature. True artistic movement begins not with speed, but with a break from the monopolized system itself.
Chung Suejin and Ahn Doojin share this critical awareness. Both artists challenge the way we perceive “position” and restructure our modes of approaching nature—disrupting the fixed systems these positions have long upheld.
Chung Suejin’s Theory of Budo reconfigures the conventional systems of visual perception using 64 shape elements. Traditional research into image recognition typically falls into three domains: neurological studies of the optic nerve, computational programming based on brain signals, and psychological models of information processing. Art, however, draws on unconscious, philosophical thought to engage images phenomenologically. The gap between physical research and philosophical imagination has historically been a space where art could manifest. Yet even this space has long been occupied. By mathematically combining her 64 elements, Chung constructs multidimensional spatial and visual systems that reinterpret existing perceptual structures. In doing so, she dismantles monopolized frameworks and opens up new models of seeing. She refers to these structural forms as “multidimensional creatures” or “monsters,” as the Theory of Budo both fractures the existing system and simultaneously generates a new territory.
In contrast, Ahn Doojin’s project Imaquark and Ownerless Painting begins from nature. This body of work introduces “Imaquark”—a fictional particle of the image—into the microscopic realm. Like the fundamental particles of matter, imaquarks function as the smallest units that construct painterly nature. Painting thus emerges through the logic of particle construction, forming a visual world out of image-matter. This process does not follow the classical notion of intentional artistic creation. Ownerless Painting responds to the generative forces of nature, embodying the logic by which imaquarks combine and evolve. Here, the artist does not act as a controlling subject but instead as a “machine” that produces variation through repetition. In doing so, he escapes the assumptions of artistic authorship and breaks free from the historical framework of speed and position.
In their distinct ways, Theory of Budo and Imaquark come to share a common ground—a new territory forged through different approaches but parallel concerns. Both projects begin with fundamental questions about the nature of art, travel their own unique trajectories, and meet at a point of convergence. The exhibition Asking explores that intersection and offers a narrative of the worlds they have each constructed. Rather than artificially binding the works under a singular theme, the exhibition allows them to unfold on their own terms—inviting viewers to witness the opening of a “new territory.”
