Each of the artworks presented in the exhibition has a particular piece of music as its pillar and asks the audience to listen to the hidden sounds: the Psalms of the Bible, which are poetry; classical masterpieces such Tchaikovsky’s 5th Symphony; Pavane Op. 50 by Gabriel Urbain Fauré; Bolero by Maurice Ravel; the prologue featured in the film Happy Together by Wong Kar-Wai; and a musical performance based on a percussive musical score converted from Morse code resonate throughout those moving images.

The white cube is featured like a cave or a psychological air-raid shelter to guide the audience to experience uncertain situations as they walk along the long corridor, following the sounds of a song that resound through the whole space.  

The exhibition does not only talk about precarious life, pain, death, and the sense of loss that are caused by an unprecedented pandemic. It also poses a question of whether we have ever shared in the sorrow of others as we have gone through the ages and situations of violence and suppression. This is an attempt to reveal the phenomenon of alienation inherent or concealed in our day-to-day lives and to look for a possibility of reconfiguring it.

Many of the works of the exhibition are the outcome of collaborations with contemporary artists, musicians, and performers. In the sculptural video installation Corporealités, Jesper Just worked with the dancers of the American Ballet Theater, and Ragnar Kjartansson put forth his collaboration A Lot of Sorrow with the rock band The National. In Palms 144:4, by jung jaeil, a composer and the music director of Oscar-winning film Parasite, and jang minseung, the Budapest Scoring Choir participated in a Gregorian chant. As for the new commissions by the Museum of Contemporary Art Busan, Dae-jin Choi’s drawing installation Memorial Park, jang minseung + jung jaeil’s panoramic video Palms 144:4, and the three-dimensional graphic score Three Part Invention for Solo Viewer on Any Three Instruments by Samson Yong, who is a composer and sound artist, will be unveiled.

Curatorial Statement

The title of the exhibition, “Blue Peal of Bells,” quotes a phrase from a poem by Kwang-gyun Kim, who described the feeling of sadness and loss as if they could be seen and heard; the blue sound of a bell that scatters like the splash of a fountain. This is the time to feel more vividly than at any other time that we are not immune to someone else’s pain. This is the time that makes us take another look at the precariousness of life. Vulnerability, loss, and mortality, those great equalizers, have come to the forefront as the themes we all should be acutely aware of. This is an opportunity for society to confront unresolved emotions that may stretch back years and express them outwardly. “Blue Peal of Bells” attempts to understand what could be beneath the surface of society or our collective mentality. The exhibition attempts to view the emotions and feelings that underlie society but cannot be seen with our eyes. It seeks to ask questions and find answers about whether one can discuss sorrow as a communal social emotion.

There are countless opportunities in society to keep a distance from others’ pain. We choose to keep this distance even though emergency text messages are constantly delivered to us through the screen we hold in our hands wherever we go. Even though we can look into every nook and cranny of the world that we share with others, we have become even more indifferent to others. We should change and mourn with those who mourn. Let’s ask ourselves these questions: Has it ever been possible to make sound and resonate with others? Can we come closer to understanding and making the same sound with someone else only by exercising our imagination? What shall we invoke to overcome the failure in imagination and empathy, and have an encounter with one another and reach deep into each others’ hearts? “Blue Peal of Bells” asks the audience which chord can offer a perspective that triggers the understanding of the global situation and presents works that take a clue from music. Because we cannot see or touch but only feel emotions, we often find that music made of sounds can deliver emotions most intuitively. Being inspired by this, the exhibition presents artworks that musically address the situation and state of mind that is blue. “Blue Peal of Bells,” which deals with the possibility of a sense of connection and empathy, is a piece of music with two movements: Muted and Cry.

The first movement, Muted, foretells that something is happening all the time through subtle but constant sounds. Sounds, which are converted into gestures or visual forms, call on the audience to reimagine sounds across society, smothered by suppression and control, that have become part of a routine to the point of appearing ordinary. The second movement, Cry, echoes throughout the space of resonation. Just as the sound we hear is not perfect, I might not be able to understand you perfectly, but the sound is not yours only. To listen to such resonance takes practice. Ears do not have a lid, so they stay open all the time, but if you fail to pay attention, they will get dull. However, listening to something is easier said than done, for it requires you to understand and respond to the blank call of a precarious life that lingers on a situation and an incident that repeats itself as if a refrain. Echoes let us realize that although the sound I hear is not complete, it is not yours either. An attempt to listen to the messages contained in those scattered echoes might be an expression of a determination as well as a practice.