"The artist Heeseung Chung is a questioner. Not all artists are. In broad terms, there are those in the world who devote themselves to loudly proclaiming the answers they believe in, and there are those who enthrall us with tales of their struggles and journeys in pursuit of a clue. There are even those who, grounded in the firm conviction that neither answers nor questions exist at all, endlessly regurgitate their resentment and anxiety toward the world.
Yet in general, what preoccupies photographers most is the question of how their photographs will come to acquire meaning. Of course, meaning is something special and important in artistic practice. If, in the end, it cannot be attained, the artist’s work will be scarcely distinguishable from the nameless photographic images drifting through the marketplace. By contrast, if the right meaning is secured, photography can reveal the secrets of the world, expose the nature of its own medium, or take its place within the history of art, opening onto a wide range of aesthetic possibilities.
The problem, however, is that the cards photographers can play in order to secure that precious trophy of “meaning” are becoming fewer and fewer. For instance, the traditional strategies of photographers—exploiting the optical difference between the human eye and the camera lens, insisting that the objects they capture are in fact bound to certain concepts or discourses, or reassembling collected images of things into a kind of pseudo-archive of knowledge—remain valid, to be sure, but increasingly they begin to feel somewhat tedious.
In such a situation, the stance Heeseung Chung adopts is rather resolute. She seems to show little interest in the act of picking up other people’s feathers and fastening them onto her own body. At thirty-one, Susan Sontag wrote in Against Interpretation that Thomas Mann was, in fact, a writer who conveniently left clues to make it easier for critics to follow his trail. Indeed, there are photographers who likewise plant invisible signposts throughout their images. Diligent critics who carefully read such guides—along the lines of “this photograph should be explained through Baudrillard’s concept of simulacra”—eventually arrive at the open clearing where the artist has been waiting, and their encounter is at once welcome and faintly embarrassing.
But Heeseung Chung keeps her cards concealed in her grasp. Across from the hand that holds them, the eyes that gleam fix not on the stakes but on the gaze itself."