Yoona Hur, In search of lost time

The image of Moon Jar is somewhat overexposed these days taking sole role to represent Korean Aesthetics. However, Yoona Hur’s piece certainly has originality to get rid of the preconception. Her Moon Jars were radiant with renewed energy.

 

"Venus" from 'Sky, Mountain, Cloud, River,' 2020, Photo Toby Mitchell

 

My first encounter with your Moon Jar was like experiencing a unique pure language. I am wondering why I got that feeling and hope you could explain it.

Thank you for your reading of my work. I’m glad to know that you sensed originality and purity in my vessels. Perhaps, they are rooted in my learnings from Korean zen buddhism — There’s a phrase called “beginner’s mind,” where one is encouraged to let go of expectations and preconceived ideas about something and simply try to see things with an open mind and fresh eyes, just like a beginner. That’s been my main philosophy when creating the vessels inspired by historic Moon Jars. Also, I often work with new glazes, clay types or techniques so there’s always a sense of the unknown which inevitability puts me in the beginner’s mind and I fully embrace and celebrate that.

The colors and tones of those specific vessels from the ’20 show were what I was personally drawn to during that time — the soft pink tone spoke of femininity and softness unlike some of the traditional porcelain types which felt a bit masculine, cold and distant to me. I want my work feel intimate and warm, something that you feel close to and not far. Infusing such feminine qualities into a traditional form is perhaps is what makes these particular pieces contemporary and unique.

'Modern Archive' exhibition venue, Francis Gallery, 2019. Photo by Rory Gardiner 

'Sky, Mountain, Cloud, River,' works in situ at Liam Stevens’ Resonant Line at Francis Gallery in 2020, Photo by Rich Stapleton

 

I heard that you achieved architectural degree and worked as an architect for nearly seven years. The roles between architect and artist would be a lot different and I’m wondering which aspect of being artist appealed you more? 
While I was pursuing my architecture profession for several years, I began to realize and feel that I was becoming more and more distant from my original self in terms of characteristics and curiosities that came more naturally to me — I am a very intuitive, tactile, spontaneous and emotive person. I feel most authentic and fulfilled when I am expressing and exploring things that are personal and spiritual which can be often open-ended, experimental and ambiguous. As an artist, one can take on the freedom to fully explore the question of the self and the unknown as a “seeker” rather than a “problem solver” which is a large part of being a professional architect.

At the same time, I was and am still infatuated with Architecture — it is fascinating, exciting and challenging. The biggest thing that took away from my architecture education is the importance of research and scale shifts — knowing and using historical context as inspirations and always push to perceive things in a larger context, understanding of materiality and always questioning its intent. Though, I’m making objects (far smaller scale than a building per say), I try to implement and integrate such principals. When I was at a residency in Florence in Italy, I worked with the local “Amphora (wine jar)” producer to source the terracotta clay. My first hand-built terracotta moon jar birthed from such place as an attempt to create a dialogue between east and west. I also try to have an intimate an exhibition of my work in European cities like Paris and Zurich where people are less familiar with traditional Korean aesthetics. All of these acts are derived from under my curiosity and need to connect with diverse environments, culture and people to keep expanding and evolving.

Yoona Hur at gallery facade of her solo show 'Soft Awakenings,' 2022, Le sentiment des choses, Paris, France

 

Probably the event that made you to be known to wider audience is the group exhibition in Francis Gallery in 2019 curated by Rosa Park, chief editor of Cereal. I am wondering which characteristic of your work has drown Rosa Park’s interest. I carefully predict that there would be some common taste between us having same root as Koreans.

Rosa and I were both born in Korea but had spent the majority of our lives in the West. It was fascinating to find out that we both shared somewhat of a similar background where we were disconnected from our heritage at an young age until in our 30s. We were both responding to our deep seated urge to reconnect with our heritage and express them in ways that make sense and are unique to our current multifaceted versions of us.

In 2019, Rosa and I worked closely together to create the Archive series where each jar had a specific historical reference to pottery from the Goryeo and Joseon periods. I used stoneware from Korea and only glazed the inside to reveal the natural texture that resembled the limestones of Bath, UK architecture. They worked so nicely with the changing natural light casting inside the gallery space. Symbolically, it represented fusing of two different cultures and collapsing time through materiality and form. There was definitely a play of light and shadow of these simple forms which added this unseen life to the work. Once they are moved to different spaces, they will take on a new life.

'Soft Awakenings,' 2022. Le Sentiment des choses, Paris 

Yoona Hur, "Moon Cloud 05," 2021, Photo by Rich Stapleton 

Details of Moon Clouds 02 (2021), Photo by Rich Stapleton 

 

I am wondering how you have found interest in Korean traditional aesthetics.  

In 2006 when I moved from Chicago to New York to pursue my architectural degree at Cooper Union, I frequently visited the Metropolitan Museum — whenever I had free time, I would roam around the Roman, Egyptian and Asian art rooms (I still do).

Though the Korean permanent collection was a lot smaller and less grand than the Chinese and Japanese rooms, they still presented the most beautiful national treasures and the Moon Jar was the one that I was most attracted to and impressed by. At that time, I didn’t know very much about history of ceramics especially its iconic significance in defining Korean aesthetics. I was simply mesmerized by its simplicity, modernity and universality. It also felt “home” in a sense it was embracing and calming rather than provocative (overtly stimulating) which was what New York and Architecture felt like to me for the first few years. In looking back, now I see how it had planted a profound seed in my spirit.

For me, what New York City offered besides the architectural education was learning and practicing Korean zen buddhism. And that is a large part of my influences and nature of where my current works are derived from. When I first moved to New York, my mother who is a devout buddhist in Korea, recommended that I visit a temple. It was a small brownstone townhouse near Central Park West and I met this incredible female head monk whose name was Myoji. Her name means “mystical wisdom” which she really was! She became my mentor for several years before she passed away in 2011. She taught me various types of meditation techniques like silence sitting, koan, bowing, and chanting. Knowing the self and letting go of the self are I think the hardest things to do yet the most important quest for me. Such experiences combined with readings on Korean aesthetics, traditional arts & craft and buddhism have all compounded on building my artistic realm. They are things that I am just naturally drawn to. And the process in ceramics and meaning of the Moon Jar encompasses all of those aspects. However, it’s only a part of a larger spiritual and material realm that I’m currently experiencing, learning and expressing.

How did you manage the transition time from architect to artist, and how was your first exhibition?

I left my architecture job in 2017 and embarked on a new adventure and went back to Korea for nearly a year to reconnect with my family and learn both history and technical part of ceramics. My first show called “Antecedere” was in 2018 with a gallery in New York City. The gallery owner was intrigued by the particularities of my take on reinterpreting Korean ancient and traditional ceramics. Because she was also an immigrant, she related to the “otherness” and the search for heritage while living and working in New York City. I explored the motif of birds, offering vessels, and bells because of their universal quality. If you look at ancient civilizations across the world, you will notice the similarities and overlaps both formally and how ceramic was used in special rituals and everyday. To me, I perceive it as a universal language that predates written/spoken language — that to me is an incredible and fascinating beauty and significant part of global history that I am very much drawn to.

'The Sun above the Cloud' with Shiro Tsujimura

 

Clay and Hanji (Korean mulberry paper) are your main ingredients. I am wondering if you have figured a common characteristic from these two materials. and how the feature contributes to shape your work?

I use both clay and paper because of their ancient, universal and tactile quality of the medium — nearly every culture used them for ceremonies and rituals because of their deep and direct connection to nature (land, soil, water and tree). The historical findings fascinate me and helps me understand the overlaps amongst various civilizations and cultures. They are also natural resources that has scarcity factor to them which adds on more meaning in our current times.

There’s this incredible aspect of forgiving, healing and acceptance when I work with them. Their softness and malleability offers such responses. I hope that the audience also feels both vulnerability and expansiveness in works that are derived from such materials.

 

I am sure every artist has a different way to live as an artist in the society. However, most artists who I met so far seem they try to express themselves and seek for their identity through it. The impression you give me is different. It seems like finding connection between your work and its surrounding is even more important to you than your work itself.

To me, it’s very important that my work makes a dialogue with its surroundings. Historically, a moon jar was a part of a larger whole of Hanok (traditional wooden housing). The room’s main characteristic is known to be an opening/a window made out of Hanji that frames the nature outside (as if that is the main art piece of the room) and lets natural light into the space which will illuminate the vessel.

I’m always curious about what will emerge out of that particular time, space and materiality beyond my ideas and plans — I take a lot of joy in surprises and receive them as gifts rather then failures or mistakes. I approach each work with some rules and consistency, but most importantly openness for the nature to reveals itself. My motif is letting the audience’s recognition scale out from the object. I think you could say it is architectural mind.

One of her latest exhibitions this year was ‘The Lightness of Being’ in East Hampton. The founder of Onna House, beautifully restored modernist home built in 1960s filled with unique art pieces, furniture, and objects, Lisa Perry invited five female ceramic artists for the group show. In-between two beautiful gardens, its Japanese influenced interior and others’ works, Yoona Hur’s large paintings and Moon Clouds were glowing, creating creating new languages and dialogues that are not possible anywhere and anytime else.

Portrait of Yoona Hur at 'The Lightness of Being' at Onna House in 2022 (Aug 6 - Sept. 3), East Hampton, New York. Photo by Glen Allsop

 

Yoona Hur

Yoona Hur is artist range over ceramics and paintings. She studied fine art at the School of The Art Institute of Chicago and went on to study architecture at The Irwin S. Chanin School of Architecture at Cooper Union. With special interest in Korean ceramic history, from ancient earthenware to the Moon Jar of Joseon dynasty of Korea, she has explored their new finishes, materials, forms and techniques, as well as put them in special contexts with its new surroundings in the 21 century. www.yoonyounghur.com, @yoona.hur

 

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Words by J.M./ Images Courtesy Yoona Hur/ Originally published The Seoul Review (Nov. 2022)/ Front image caption. Yoona Hur, “Sky, Mountain, Cloud, River,” 2020, Works in situ at Liam Stevens’ Resonant Line at Francis Gallery, Bath, Somerset, UK. Photo by Rich Stapleton