KIMYOON Halla

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< Farewells to Those Met Through a Glance > , 2024,
Installation,Metal, depilatory wax, thermal wire from an electric blanket left behind by a friend’s former partner upon her departure, 140 x 100 x 50 cm

< Jealousy on a Loop > , 2023, Installation, white chocolate fish, white latex fish, gravy boat, metal plate, bent fork, silicone fork, disposable wooden chopsticks, wood,
50 × 50 × 60 cm

< Locked Beak: Palpitations > , 2023, Shared mattress from a neighbor, wooden plank, sorbet machine, tomato sauce, tuna can, ceramic beak, headless silicone frogs, rice,
100 × 140 × 60 cm

My artistic journey began in the world of South Korean cinema, a foundation that continues to haunt and inform my current practice in the visual arts in France. This transition was not merely a change of medium, but a philosophical shift in how I perceive time and space. Early in my practice, I found myself questioning the very nature of classical sculpture—its stability, its heavy immuability, and its historical role in seeking "eternal glory" for power. To me, this permanence felt dishonest. In response, I began creating sculptures that move: unstable, ephemeral, and fragile works that perhaps serve as a projection of my own temporary existence as an immigrant in Europe.

These sculptures are precarious; they barely stand, teetering on the edge of collapse within an atmosphere of uncertainty. Much like the protagonists of a play that is performed only once, my works embrace the fleeting nature of theater. This "play" is my own story—the narrative of a female Asian immigrant who chose her path but often finds herself lost in the "décalage" (the gap) between cultures. Because my immigration was a personal choice, I often felt I had no right to complain about the hardships I encountered. I lived with a quiet guilt during days spent indoors, and felt the stinging gaze of being an "outsider" when I ventured out.

It was in the streets that I found my reflection: abandoned objects. These discarded items of daily life, stripped of their utility and cast out of domestic spaces, possessed an incongruous beauty and an unexpected poetry. In their displacement, I heard a silent accusation: "You are not supposed to be here." I recognized myself in these urban landscapes of the "unfit" and the "cumbersome." This sparked a fundamental inquiry in my work: Does the loss of a "place" create uselessness, or is it the judgment of uselessness that leads to displacement? Who, ultimately, decides the value of an existence?

My current work acts as a formal declaration of my position as a woman and an Asian immigrant today. This exploration is divided into two primary axes:

I. Below the First Floor

This project focuses on the "en-bas" (the below)—the physical and symbolic low spaces of urban life. Throughout my time in France, I have never lived above the first floor. This proximity to the ground, often disconnected from the broader social and psychological "heights" of society, has shaped my perception of invisibility. In this series, I listen to the "rhythm of resistance" found in marginal existences. By using objects with soiled surfaces and the scent of accumulated time, I attempt to create a "second bond" with the discarded, transforming their silence into a shared space of belonging.

II. In the Form of Animals

While the first axis is personal, the second is allegorical. Using the structure of a fable—reminiscent of George Orwell’s Animal Farm—I examine the contradictions of social, economic, and political power. I use animal forms and natural elements as metaphors for the tension between the oppressor and the oppressed, the mechanical repetition of systems, and the "voluntary degeneration" of the masses. This allegorical distance allows me to use humor and a sharp, oblique perspective to dissect the complexities of human hierarchy and the brutal logic of competition.

Through these shifting, vacillating forms, I am not merely making objects; I am reclaiming a narrative. I am taking the stories carried by rejected things and weaving them into a testament of what it means to exist on the margins, finding strength in the very instability that once felt like a weakness.