Conscious Images, Imagined Consciousness
The innate human instinct to visually perceive and imitate objects or phenomena is a sublime faculty that underlies civilization and culture. Artists, in particular, deepen this instinct through writing, painting, language, and action—visualizing the hidden and using various releasers (including existence itself) as signifiers in representation.
Among these themes, awareness of existence and inquiry into it have long been core subjects in art, comparable to considerations of life and death. If art emerges from the interaction between humans—as being‑there (Dasein)—and the world, then the artist, as such a being, performs the role of clarifying the uncertain propositions of the world. Furthermore, it is the artist’s task to question what constitutes a genuine human image in contemporary times—to summon and document fragments of perception and experience into reality.
The work of artist Ah‑young Yu proceeds along this trajectory. She reconstructs the continuity of existence based on what she terms the “movement of thought.” This movement acts like a pendulum, enabling external implications to arise from internal phenomena, a shy unveiling of the invisible from childhood through to the present—it signifies a drifting of thought that holds within it the origins of expression.
She captures this drifting thought in figurative, cognitive form. Thus, Ah‑young Yu’s images are “conscious images,” an awareness of existence. For example, paintings resembling old family photographs or depictions of young girls relocate unspeakable memories into the present. Thrown (2017) portrays a seemingly solitary man standing before a stack of stairs, evoking a lingering sense that he places himself amid endless questions: “how,” “what,” and “why.”
Similarly, Werden (2017)—featuring a figure seated atop stairs reminiscent of Rodin’s The Thinker (1880) and set within spaces frequently visited by the artist—exudes solitude and compassion.
Other works, like Lay Down (2017), depicting only anonymous feet, or My Sneakers (2016), showing a pair of sneakers, evoke similar emotional resonance. If considered as landscapes, they resemble “aesthetic landscapes” that redirect attention back to reality. Notably, Werden III (2017), a triptych, stands out among Ah‑young Yu’s paintings. It emphasizes expression over depiction, remains unconcerned with elaborate narrative, and thus presents a state of freedom irrespective of viewer interpretation. Though slightly desolate, it conveys emotion more through the heart than the mind.
We exist in the present, yet its authenticity is always under question. Society’s pervasive contradictions and structural conflicts continually unsettle our hearts and minds. In this context, Ah‑young Yu’s work—which naturally evokes the despair and desire woven into contemporary existence—is compelling because it confronts modern individuals with situations they ought to contemplate and offers, through the artist’s unique gaze, a perspective on the meaning of existence.
This tendency is manifest in her 2015 work Left Behind, and Existing. It portrays the human journey of navigating multiple possibilities and making choices, illustrating that existence is constructed through relationships—with others, objects, and the world—and that we are always beings‑in‑the‑world. Ah‑young Yu draws this out with her distinct pictorial sensibility.
In When Feeling Like a Stone Abandoned by the Roadside (Day’s End) (2014), she reflects lived human experience. Similar to People Going Somewhere (2013), which introduces a crack into rote monotony, and In the Whirlpool (2013), which contemplates desire, identity, and positioning under vast relational forces—this work can likewise be interpreted through those themes. Although the subject is an anonymous man, the painting embodies deep self-inquiry: what it means to be nothing, to become nothing, within humanity—including the artist herself.
In Common Proletarian’s Worries (2014), the artist’s perceived reality is clearly mirrored in her psyche. Featuring a child (or girl) slightly turning her head in sorrowful contemplation, the work appears to calmly depict a real-life condition, yet it also leaves traces of existential orientation and primal vitality. In other words, by internalizing essential nature and juxtaposing it with self-referential figures, it emphasizes reality while capturing inner self and the present.
Among her oeuvre, The Road series (2016)—depicting only feet—serves as symbols of direction and return; The Only Us That Day (2014) hints at something twisted extracted from longing. These two works suggest that anonymized existence and indelible remnants continue to circulate endlessly through time and space. Additionally, many of Ah‑young U’s paintings—such as Singing for Us (2014), Just Wondering I (2014), and Ordinary People (2013)—resemble autobiographical essays, addressing interwoven relationships rooted in daily life and personal experience.
However, unlike her earlier work, her more recent pieces—while retaining interest in the theme of existence—expand outwardly, with more concretely reinforced narratives. The focus shifts from past circumstance to present phenomena and ultimately toward humans, objects, environments, and structures related to herself. In doing so, she integrates perspectives on fulfillment and emptiness, reality and future, life’s struggles, origins, and truth.
In Amor Fati (2014), featured as the centerpiece of her solo exhibition, Ah‑young Yu’s painting reveals a profound contemplative shadow. The backgrounds stem from fragments that have personally influenced the artist, and from internal and external alienation originating in those fragments. Indeed, these works subtly point toward themes of alienation or indifference.
Although Ah‑young Yu’s paintings reflect her personal history and daily life, they also dialectically portray integration and alienation within life and relationships, and seemingly futile struggles for survival in communities—be they as intimate as family or as broad as society—that any contemporary individual might face. This introspection becomes more apparent from a sociological perspective. Since modern civilization reached maturity, the phenomenon of “self-alienation” has been extensively studied, and it seems that Ah‑young Yu is concretely exploring this concept through her painting.
Interestingly, despite employing seemingly familiar techniques, her works exude empathy and resonance that transcend form. They stimulate imagination and leave interpretive room so others may understand them subjectively. In conclusion—if presenting new ways of seeing the world through one’s own visual language is of great value in an artist’s life—then Ah‑young Yu’s present pursuit of that language is exactly what we should anticipate. After all, artworks are always open to transformation. ■
By Kyung-han Hong (Art Critic)