From “blue” data to “green” wisdom

History unfolds in three dimensions, yet the texts and images that convey it are confined to two dimensions. This compression creates distortion. However, Sung Hwan Kim's exhibition at the Seoul Museum of Art restores history to a three-dimensional space. Within this area, previously unseen elements come into view and what we take for granted acquires new meaning. Time, space and dimensions merge into a multidimensional whole, making it necessary to explore the exhibition two, three, or even more times to fully grasp its depth and complexity.

Last Saturday morning, I entered Sung Hwan Kim’s solo exhibition, Ua a'o 'ia 'o ia e ia 우아 아오 이아 오 이아 에 이아. What unfolded before me was a multilingual and multicultural space where Korean, English, Hawaiian and Mandarin texts intertwined, creating a complex narrative structure. The interplay of these languages transformed the gallery into a crossroads of history and culture, where each linguistic thread added texture and depth to the stories being told. From the dawn of the Pacific Era in 1848 to 2010, a series of historical events unfolded, connecting Korea and Hawai‘i. These events, shaped by the linguistic and cultural diversity of the Pacific, felt immediate and alive, transcending time and inviting visitors to interpret their continued resonance in the present.

Through a compelling array of video, installation and archival materials, the exhibition invites viewers to engage with its content on an intimate level, bearing witness to the gradual unfolding of knowledge. What sets this exhibition apart is its dynamic, process-oriented nature. The space itself is in flux, evolving as works are added, adjusted and recontextualised over time. This deliberate incompleteness creates an immediacy that draws visitors into the process of historical inquiry. Instead of observing static displays, they become participants in the active evolution of meaning.

The exhibition’s unconventional format underscores the intricate relationship between physical presence and information. Kim seamlessly integrates movement, sound and light into the gallery’s design, encouraging intuitive navigation rather than adherence to a prescribed route. Scattered throughout the space are clusters of information rendered in two key colours: blue and green. According to curator Gahee Park, blue represents raw data, while green symbolises interpretation and wisdom. These visual elements reflect the exhibition’s central inquiry: how does knowledge transition into understanding?

“At the planning stage, blue and green were intended to differentiate information from wisdom,” Park explained. “Yet as the exhibition evolved, the distinction between the two became less rigid, illustrating how the boundaries between information and wisdom naturally blur over time.” Complementing these visual cues are textual materials divided into three categories: didactic explanations, the artist’s reflections and excerpts from external sources. Together, they form a cohesive narrative that bridges objective fact and subjective interpretation, echoing the interplay between information and insight.

Hawai‘i as Convergence

The journey begins in a room that examines Hawai‘i as both a tangible place and a conceptual “drifting land”. Archival photographs, oral histories and contemporary documentation converge to explore the forces that have shaped the islands and situate Hawai‘i as a global convergence point. One poignant installation juxtaposes records from the Palama Settlement—a centre for Korean immigrants in the early 20th century—with modern imagery of Hawaiian landscapes. This dialogue between past and present reveals the shared experiences of marginalisation faced by Korean immigrants and native Hawaiians, inviting reflection on the broader historical forces that shaped these parallel struggles.

Following the U.S. annexation of Hawai‘i in 1898, Native Hawaiians endured the loss of their language and culture, while Koreans faced similar challenges under Japanese colonial rule in the early 20th century. Despite these comparable experiences of erasure and marginalisation, the connections between their histories have rarely been explored. Native Hawaiians continue their efforts to reclaim and pass on their cultural heritage, just as Koreans work to preserve their identity and confront the destructive consequences of colonialism. Together, these narratives highlight the resilience and determination of both communities to protect and sustain their histories, even in the face of ongoing challenges.

On the gallery wall, the Hawaiian word ‘HULI’ is painted in bold black pigment, inverted and oversized. In the lower left corner, a red seal stamp is prominently placed.

For Hawaiians, ‘huli’ signifies renewal and resilience, symbolised by the taro plant’s regenerative growth. In Kim’s Korean translation, the term also evokes ‘overthrow’, linking it to Korea’s anti-colonial struggles. This act of delayed translation invites viewers to reflect on the interconnectedness of seemingly disparate histories. Moving through this room feels like stepping into a layered story where personal and collective memories intertwine.

The artist’s process

The second room dissolves the boundary between creation and presentation. Functioning as an active studio, it captures Kim’s evolving process in real time. Fragments of video, ambient sounds and tactile materials are in constant motion, revealing the transformation of raw ideas into cohesive works. The interplay of light and shadow across the surfaces reinforces the notion that knowledge is shaped by movement and perspective.

Visitors’ movements play an integral role, subtly influencing the experience as shifting positions alter perceptions of layered projections and sounds. Kim observes and integrates these interactions into his creative process, creating a reciprocal relationship between the artist and audience. This room exemplifies the shared act of creation, where visitors become co-creators rather than passive observers.

A meditation on time

In the third and final room, visitors explore the incomplete and shifting relationship between time and memory, influenced by the disorienting effects of parallax. The space challenges the idea of fixed historical narratives, emphasising how records often outlive or transform beyond the subjects they originally represented. Written texts and visual records may describe something that once existed but has since disappeared or changed, leaving them as traces of something intangible or unrecognisable. This idea is embodied in the story of Gwanghwamun, the main gate of Gyeongbokgung Palace. Since its construction in 1395, Gwanghwamun has been repeatedly destroyed and reconstructed, including damage during the Japanese invasion, its relocation and demolition during the colonial period and its destruction in the Korean War. Restored to its original form and location in 2010, it now stands as a symbol of resilience and cultural identity, while its history serves as a reminder of the enduring transformations that shape memory.

Kim expands this dialogue by incorporating references to cinematic works such as Andrei Tarkovsky’s The Sacrifice (1986) and Akira Kurosawa’s Ran (1985). These films famously feature scenes of deliberate destruction, where the directors burned sets to capture moments of profound visual and symbolic impact. These acts of erasure are simultaneously acts of creation, embodying the dual forces of loss and renewal. In the gallery, layered projections of Namdaemun—destroyed by fire in 2008—appear alongside imagery of burning scenes and fleeting cityscapes. Together, these elements underscore the fragility of historical monuments and the ways memory is continuously reconstructed through cycles of destruction and transformation.

The screening work interweaves these themes into a broader narrative of migration, displacement and resilience across time and geography. Using Hawai‘i as both a physical anchor and a conceptual framework, the work connects the experiences of early Korean immigrants to the United States, Native Hawaiian activists reclaiming land in the 1970s and the oral histories of “picture brides”. Spanning from the late Joseon period to transpacific migrations, this narrative positions Hawai‘i as a crossroads of cultural exchange, colonial impact and ongoing struggles for identity and sovereignty. 

Never-ending stories

The exhibition asks us to consider not just the stories we inherit but the ways we carry and reshape them. As visitors traverse its layered environments—where archival fragments meet contemporary interpretations and where languages blur into one another—Kim transforms the act of viewing into an active process of reconstruction. Each room becomes a site of revelation, connecting personal memory with collective history and rooting abstract concepts in tangible, lived realities. The interplay of blue and green, once a symbolic device, evolves into a visual language that mirrors the movement from raw data to human insight. By the time we leave, we are not merely witnesses to a narrative but participants in its ongoing creation, carrying with us the realisation that history is neither fixed nor distant—it is something we inhabit, reinterpret and pass forward.

Sung Hwan Kim's solo exhibition is on view at the Seoul Museum of Art until March 30, 2025.

(The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official position of STIR or its Editors.)