I’m a photographer BHANG Youngmoon. I make a living through photography, and my main goal is to gain more artistic freedom through my creative process. I constantly think about how to balance my personal artwork and professional photography. That’s who I am as an artist.
“What do you most want to hear from fellow artists, audiences, or curators?”
I appreciate people who genuinely ask about my artistic intent. Sometimes, people try to compare my work to their existing thoughts and attempt to match it with what they expect, and that can be a bit exhausting. Instead, I prefer engaging in conversations with those who ask purely out of curiosity.
“What kind of narrative do you want your photography to convey?”
For me, photography is a way to project my thoughts and emotions. I perceive photography as a medium that is not about realism but distortion—a highly subjective form of expression. In that sense, an artist’s world and personal narrative are not much different from what they present in their work.
Whether an artist is exploring philosophical truth, capturing aesthetic preferences, or portraying seemingly insignificant moments, it all eventually centers around their own story.
One of the most consistent themes I have pursued over the years is ‘limits’. No matter how much we try, there are things we can never achieve, and of course, there are things we fail at simply because we lack knowledge. The human experience is fundamentally shaped by the limits we face. To live is to accept our limits.
I believe the pursuit of unlimited freedom or power often leads to conflict. Instead, I focus on the idea that there are things we cannot explain, and we should embrace them. To love uncertainty! — that is the key to happiness. I believe that the pursuit of certainty only makes us more unhappy.
Does photography help you embrace reality?
Yes, in a way, photography is my way of taming my mind. Like everyone else, I struggle with uncertainty. There are endless concerns—how to plan my work, how to make a living next year, and so on. But no matter how much I try, I will never have all the answers.
In that sense, my work is a constant self-dialogue.Through my art, I remind myself that I must learn to live with uncertainty.
Where do you see yourself in a year? Or ten years?
A year is too short—I don’t think much will change. But for ten years? I have a concrete plan.
I have realized that even if I expand into multiple genres, it wouldn’t be a problem. Right now, I am working with visuals, but this exhibition introduces sound. It’s the starting point of something new. In ten years, I envision myself working as an artist who integrates both music and visual art.
Let’s talk about the sound in this exhibition.
The piece playing here was originally composed by the French composer Olivier Messiaen for the organ. It is from his work <Nine Meditations on the Birth of Christ>(La Nativité du Seigneur, neuf méditations pour orgue (The Birth of the Lord, nine meditations for organ)) In its original form, the piece is performed much faster. But here, it has been slowed down significantly and arranged for the piano.
The reason for this reinterpretation? Messiaen developed a color-tone system based on his chromaticism. Later, musicians like the Norwegian pianist Håkon Austbø brought this theory to life through performance.
This piece, at its core, is an exploration of the connection between sound and color. My work in this exhibition uses color palettes that align with the scales used in Messiaen’s compositions. I arranged and modified the music to match my artistic perspective.
This is the first time I have presented this piece in a gallery setting. Before, I may have talked about it in casual conversations, but this is its first formal presentation.
Who are you most grateful to?
If I had to choose just one person… I would say my father. Even though we don’t have the best relationship, I think he has been the most realistic anchor in my life. Without him, I might not have persevered through difficult moments.
What made you pursue art?
It was a simple realization: If I didn’t do it now, I would regret it later.
People often don’t acknowledge that they even have a choice. Instead of thinking, “I can do this,” they hesitate and delay.I believe that if you want to do something, you should just start. Of course, sometimes you take a few steps and realize, “Oh, this isn’t working.” That’s fine. But you wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t tried.
Can you give us a brief docent tour of this exhibition?
The theme of this exhibition is ‘limits.’I visually express this through the horizon in my photographs.
Why the horizon?Because no matter how far you walk, it will always remain at the same distance.
On Earth, due to the curvature, we can see about 4 km ahead before the horizon visually cuts off. Even if you move forward, the gap between you and the horizon doesn’t change. This simple physical limit serves as a metaphor for the broader limitations we face in life.
At times, I describe my work as a square that is actually a circle. This is not a literal statement but a reflection on perception and reality.
My images of the water’s surface convey a similar idea. No matter how long you observe, the surface never reveals the depths beneath.
Some of my newer works in this exhibition depict clearly defined objects.This represents the idea that there is nothing in the world we can truly ‘lean on.’
Ultimately, this exhibition is about embracing limits rather than to try overcome them. We live in a society that constantly encourages us to push boundaries and break through obstacles. But I want to suggest a different perspective: What if there is no utopia(or a whole new world, paradise) beyond the horizon? What if, instead of trying to transcend limits, we simply learned to love them?
The inspiration behind this philosophy? One reference point is the Old Testament. In <Deuteronomy>, it is said that the Israelites lacked nothing during their 40 years in the wilderness. But once they crossed the Jordan River, what awaited them? War. Later, with time, came the collapse of their nation.
What kept you going when you wanted to quit?
I think it’s because I never considered another option.This was the only path.
Would you still be an artist if you were born again?
No. If my upbringing had been different, my way of thinking would be different. And if that were the case, I’d probably have chosen something else.
What is art to you?
Art is not a tool, nor is it simply a form of expression. It is a path. A path that allows me to explore, question, and process my experiences.
Recently, I have been focusing more on sensory perception.Rather than systematically analyzing concepts, I now try to feel my way through them.
I don’t usually ask people to gather for my events. But this time, I wanted to share this work in person. To those who came—thank you so much.
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