dialogue
Sun-kyo Park | Artist
January 2025
6 min read
In this exciting dialogue, with artist Sun-kyo Park, we explore the delicate balance between tradition and modernity, the profound resonance of retro gaming glitches, and the intricate relationship between simplicity, precision, and complexity in art.
Park reflects on the universal essence of tradition embedded in everyday actions, the symbolic power of retro gaming characters, and the cyclical interplay of individuality and community. Through deeply personal insights, Park shares how his works invite dialogue, bridges idealism and reality with remarkable precision and intention.
Hi Sun-kyo. How do you view the relationship between tradition and modernity in your art?
“To me, modernity is something that develops and grows with tradition as its root, eventually becoming another tradition over time. The relationship between these two often reminds me of the question, “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”
In my work, I don’t aim to depict tradition through distinctive or unconventional imagery. Instead, I view traditional imagery as something so deeply embedded within modernity that we no longer perceive it as unique. For this reason, what I consider “traditional” in my work never appears in a form lacking modernity.
For example, the outstretched arm pose in my ‘People in Line’ series originates from a common activity experienced by my peers during our elementary school days. It reflects the act of creating personal space while standing in lines for exercises, as children were lined up on a school playground.
To summarize, for me, tradition is not something rare or extraordinary, but rather a fundamental essence embedded in our everyday, modern actions. ”
We find iconic games in your work now, such as, Street Fighter and Super Mario, what is your relationship with gaming and why is important for you to have these characters in your work?
“My recent works stem from the ‘glitch’ phenomenon that occurs in 8-bit and 16-bit retro games. Back then, games (NES, Famicom, Genesis, etc.) were considered finished products, with no further updates or changes expected. The ‘glitch’ phenomenon in these completed games felt to me as a child like the manifestation of infinite possibilities. Before revisiting this experience, I had been preoccupied with the anxiety surrounding “my own fragmentation”, a concept I’ve been reflecting on for a long time. The effect of the glitches resonated well with this idea, and I wanted to incorporate it into my work. Infinite possibilities inevitably lead to infinite fragmentation, and with it, infinite creation as well as anxiety.
The characters in my work are drawn from 8-bit and 16-bit retro games and serve as issues or prompts for dialogue. It’s less about why each character was chosen and more about what kinds of stories or conversations these images evoke. With this perspective, I carefully place each image with intention.
To me, the act of using retro game characters in my work carries more significance than the specific choice of character. As graphics continue to evolve to a point where they are indistinguishable from reality through the senses, I imagine that for future generations, retro game characters will become symbols of how computer graphics began and developed. Perhaps this reflects an anticipation of a reversal in the relationship between tradition and modernity, which you mentioned in your earlier question.”
I’ve seen images of the process of you developing a painting, it’s an incredible amount of detail. Your work plays with the tension between complexity, precision and simplicity. How do you balance these elements mentally when working?
“The elements of simplicity, complexity, and precision are, in my view, interdependent. For example, imagine a perfectly simple shape—a perfect square or a perfect rectangle. Such forms might easily come to mind. However, when you try to draw them with exact angles and proportions, you quickly realize how difficult it is to achieve perfection. The simpler something is, the more apparent its flaws become.
Therefore, in my work, I use precision to create simplicity. When this precise simplicity accumulates, it transforms into complexity. As this complexity repeats, it, in turn, becomes a new kind of simplicity. Through this cyclical process, I find balance between these elements in my work.”
The ‘Crosslegged’ series seems to resonate deeply with viewers. What inspired the confined spaces and isolated figures in this body of work?
“The inspiration for the figures in my work comes from religious gatherings held at my home during my childhood. These events, called ‘district worship,’ took place every Friday, with people from the same neighborhood taking turns hosting. They would gather to share food, worship, and talk. In Korea, where sitting on the floor is common, everyone would typically sit cross-legged during these gatherings.
I saw this experience as an ideal and fleeting moment where individuals maintained their sense of self while sharing a collective purpose for the survival of the group. In modern society, I often feel that individuality and communal goals are in conflict, with one suppressing the other. Despite this tension, I believe community remains essential to our survival, which is why I sought to explore an idealized vision of it, rooted in my childhood memories of religious gatherings.
The confined spaces in my works, therefore, can be seen as the characters’ own intact and personal spaces. Rather than being isolated, these figures have drawn their own boundaries and are positioned in a state of readiness to listen, waiting for us to speak. ”
You’ve described art as “thinking with the head closest to the sky (ideal) and feet on the ground (reality).” How does this philosophy manifest in your creative process?
“When I think about the body, I believe it possesses its own space that is equal in size to the soul, and these two cannot be separated. While some may view the body and soul as distinct, I believe that the body and soul are inseparable. If the soul (or spirit) were to leave the body and exist independently, then we would no longer experience concepts such as others, time, space, and emotions in the same way as we do now. We would become something entirely different, and would need to redefine what it means to be human.
The reason I bring this up is to explain that pursuing only the ideal (the sky) is akin to pursuing only the soul, while pursuing only the reality (the earth) is like pursuing only the body. Everything is interconnected. This idea is reflected in the way I use the body in my works.
Therefore, the expression “thinking with the head closest to the sky (ideal) and feet on the ground (reality)” means that we should not chase after just one side. If our feet are too far from the ground, we are bound to fall and perish. Conversely, if our head is too low to the ground, we would struggle to breathe properly.”
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