2. Side by Side
Someone is blowing a bubble gum bubble.
A rectangular canvas, about 110 centimeters tall and 80 centimeters wide, was filled with a bust of a person blowing bubble gum, but the bubble was so large that the person’s face was not visible. The intense pink of the background, which seemed like it would give off the sweet scent of a lollipop if you put your nose to it, and the blue of the bubble gum were colors that called to mind the artificial coloring of junk food, far from anything natural or healthy, highlighting the bizarre and uncomfortable cheerfulness characteristic of Choi Inwoo’s work.
“I heard all the pieces have already been sold.”
Shushu, who had been admiring the canvas of the bubble gum for a particularly long time out of the three pieces Inwoo was presenting at this exhibition, finally spoke.
“He has quite a few fans now. And two or three avid collectors.”
“His solo exhibition was certainly impressive. And his works since then have all been good.”
Shushu nodded as if it was only natural.
At his own solo exhibition, which had also been the first exhibition after Phantom’s reopening, Inwoo had presented a total of eighteen works. It had been a great success, receiving critical acclaim for showing a deeper exploration of self, the world, and art, while still carrying on his unique personality from before. All the works were sold during the exhibition period, surprising both Liu and Manager Han. It was an astonishing result, considering the days at the Hong Kong Art Fair when one of Inwoo’s paintings had been among the last remaining pieces.
“He spends almost all his time outside of his consultation hours working, so it’s hard to see his face these days.”
Shushu smiled at Liu’s words, which sounded like he was talking about the unbelievable transformation of a prodigal son. The two of them moved away from Inwoo’s piece to look around the last exhibition room.
Phantom’s second-floor exhibition space had undergone a remodeling, during which the existing concrete wall that had divided the hall into two large rooms was torn down. Thanks to this, it became much freer than before to reconfigure the space to fit the nature and scale of each exhibition. Even the position and size of the windows were all changed so that both works that suited being viewed under natural light and those that did not could be displayed effectively.
For this exhibition, the hall was divided into three rooms. Each room was connected to the others through a maze-like corridor, so that visitors could feel as if they were on a short, interesting journey. It was a method that hadn’t been seen in Phantom’s previous exhibitions, which had focused solely on the works themselves.
On the walls of the maze-like corridor, the diverse faces of visitors who had come to Phantom over the past three months were being projected by a beam projector. It was a video work compiled from photos Liu had taken himself of visitors who had agreed after he explained the purpose of the shoot. It was Liu’s idea to express the exhibition’s theme, ‘All Sorts and Kinds.’
People striking confident, model-like poses, people laughing shyly with their mouths covered, people stiff and rigid, people making comical faces, people gazing comfortably at the lens….
If you walked slowly, your eyes following the people whose different personalities were as apparent as their appearances, you would arrive at the final room, brightly flooded with sunlight, like discovering light at the end of a cave.
It was the only exhibition room in this exhibition that was lit by natural light. The summer sunlight pouring in from the high, slanted skylight was dazzling. The eyes, having just emerged from the dark corridor, needed a moment to adjust. The structure was designed as a miniature version of the journey of exiting a tunnel or a cave and reaching a final destination.
“The exhibition design is good. You really put a lot of effort into it since it’s the last one.”
It was true that after the decision was made for him to leave Phantom, he had devoted himself to preparing for this exhibition for the past five months so that he would have no lingering regrets. Liu didn’t bother to deny it.
“It was a good idea to come see it in advance today. It probably won’t feel like this once the exhibition opens.”
Shushu, captivated by the quiet exhibition room itself, which was filled with a white light that felt somewhat surreal, marveled as he slowly walked toward the center of the room.
“……”
His gaze, which had been turning to appreciate each and every piece, slowly fixed on one work. It was the piece Yeehyeon had sent, after getting permission from ‘The Hands,’ to submit to the last exhibition Liu would be holding at Phantom.
The large-scale work, big enough to occupy an entire wall of the exhibition room, depicted a bright sky adorned with countless stars and the sun together.
The coexistence of things that cannot coexist. The individual beings that, whether one likes it or not, whether one acknowledges it or not, already coexist as members constituting the world.
Yeehyeon’s work, which was in line with the theme of this exhibition, was reminiscent of the collaboration with Ben he had presented last winter. Just as the moon and stars were not the sole owners of the night sky, the stars in the daytime sky had not disappeared just because they were not visible.
It was no coincidence that Liu had chosen ‘All Sorts and Kinds’ as the theme for the first and last exhibition he had planned and executed on his own at Phantom, nor was it a coincidence that Yeehyeon’s works, while showing flexible changes in expressive techniques and styles, showed a consistent flow in their theme of respecting diversity and coexistence.
The experiences that had shaken his self and his relationships to their very roots were changing his perspective on himself and the world.
Shushu looked back at Liu, who was standing a few steps behind so as not to disturb his viewing. Liu felt a sense of foreboding. Judging by the way Shushu was pressing his lips together to suppress a smile and shaking his head, it seemed some teasing words were sure to follow.
“What’s it like, dating someone who paints things like this?”
“Hmm… a feeling you wouldn’t understand even if I told you?”
“You’re no fun.”
After his relationship with Yeehyeon had been restored and he had officially announced to those around them that they were a couple, Liu had been a constant target of teasing. The reason was that he was in an uncharacteristically fussy romance.
When Liu, feeling it was unfair to always be on the receiving end, retorted with a feigned air of superiority, Shushu turned back toward the painting with a sullen expression.
“You know… as a lover and as a gallerist… you really can’t afford to lose Yeehyeon.”
Liu nodded his head emphatically, as if to say he knew that very well. Then he walked a few steps forward and stood side by side with Shushu.
“I was dying to acquire it for my own collection. It was a really close call this time.”
Shushu snickered as if to say, ‘stop with the happy complaints,’ but Liu was serious. It wasn’t just because of a lover’s possessiveness; as a collector who cherished art, the desire to own this particular piece was exceptional.
“So, it’s already been sold?”
“He’s an artist causing a stir in Paris, and this is the first work he’s exhibiting in Korea. There were a lot of people who wanted to buy it without even seeing the work.”
“And you held back anyway? Impressive. That’s some praiseworthy patience.”
Shushu casually slung an arm over his shoulder and playfully patted the edge of his shoulder.
“I’m just biding my time until it comes out on the secondary market, what do you mean, patience.”
“You’re learning how to control your impulses. There’s potential for growth.”
Liu nudged his side with his elbow and laughed with a click of his tongue. When the playfulness had mostly subsided, Shushu started walking toward the other works and said in a casual tone.
“Actually, about two weeks ago? Seonyu came by the studio once.”
“……”
“He came to say thank you for connecting him so he could hold an exhibition, and brought a piece with him as a greeting.”
Hong Seonyu, who had been looking for a gallery to hold an exhibition after returning to Korea, had eventually disappeared quietly without any success. After Yeehyeon left for Paris, Liu was no longer in a state to devote energy to other people’s affairs, and Shushu had also stopped bringing up Hong Seonyu’s name.
After more than a year had passed like that, and both the name Hong Seonyu and the unfavorable impression the Korean art world had of that name had faded, the first exhibition of ‘Hong Seonyu,’ not ‘SEONEW,’ was held at a small private gallery in the metropolitan area. It was Shushu who had arranged it.
“He said he wanted to… start over with me. Said he’d thought about it a lot.”
“……”
It wasn’t intentional, but Liu’s steps stopped without him realizing it.
“Don’t make that face. I turned him down.”
“What about it. It’s your life, and your decision. I won’t interfere with whatever choice you make anymore.”
Shushu smiled faintly as he watched Liu awkwardly avoid his gaze and rub his jaw.
“It was just… bitter to see the downfall of someone I once loved with all my heart. It wasn’t that I had any lingering feelings for my relationship with Seonyu.”
When he first heard that, he couldn’t believe it, nor could he understand it. He had focused only on the fact that Hong Seonyu had betrayed Shushu, and had criticized Shushu as foolish for trying to help him even after such a betrayal. Even now, he probably couldn’t say he completely understood.
But he could nod his head to this much: that a deeply entangled relationship was not a matter that could be clearly judged with just a few clues viewed from the outside.
“Maybe it’s because he lost everything and hit rock bottom, but his work has changed a lot too. If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to make the connection. I made the introduction, but the exhibition wouldn’t have happened if the owner over there hadn’t liked his work.”
It’s a good thing, I guess. Shushu, who had added that in a deliberately casual tone, stopped and looked back before completely exiting the exhibition room.
He felt like he had just watched a movie—a feeling of wistfulness at seeing the end of an adventure and a journey, yet also a sense of gathering oneself for reality with anticipation for the daily life to follow. Thinking that it was a good exhibition, regardless of the quality of the individual works, Shushu clapped Liu on the back and smiled. Liu, who had been leading the way, stopped and looked back. After taking in Yeehyeon’s work one more time over Shushu’s shoulder, Liu checked his wristwatch and signaled that they should head down.
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