Objects of Desire, Bard Graduate Center Artist Residency 2018

Chaekgeori is a genre of late-eighteenth-century Korean still-life painting displayed on folded screens, which translates roughly as “books and things.” Initially commissioned by King Jeongjo to hang behind his royal throne, these life-size paintings were an attractive and dignified backdrop intended to signify one’s refined taste, affluence, and, most essential, scholarly intellect. In addition to stacks of books, these massive paintings depicted other markers of social status, including writing tools and imported luxury goods like antique vessels and incense.

I was struck by the similarities between this ages-old tradition and our contemporary American culture, in which people are constantly preoccupied with how others view them. Consider the “beauty shelfie”—a variation on the “selfie”—proliferating on Instagram today, where women proudly show off their beauty products by displaying them on shelves, vanities, or in medicine cabinets, sometimes followed by lengthy explanations of their extensive beauty regimen. With undercurrents of elitism and affluence—both the cost of the products is shown and the free time with which one has to use them—the parallels with Chaekgeori abound. Indeed, the products and the medium may have changed, but the desire to invent a favorable and curated image of oneself remains.

As Chaekgeori became more popular, ordinary people began commissioning their own versions of these decorative paintings. Suddenly, artists with little or no formal training were depicting decorated vases, dishware, flowers, and food, often awkwardly floating atop each other, as opposed to the neatly arranged scholarly bookshelves of the ruling class. Now, rather than reflecting a patron’s high social status and elegant tastes, these became portraits reflecting how the average Korean wanted to be perceived, with all of their wishes and hopes for a happy life.

This Chaekgeori folk art style has inspired my large-scale still-life drawing. Using a long roll of heavyweight paper, I created a graphite drawing accented with gold leafing that depicts contemporary beauty products. I drew the jars and bottles of beauty serums, elixirs, concentrates, and precious creams floating within the composition, alongside or stacked among piles of decorative books. The names of the beauty products exemplify the unrelenting messages that prey on women’s insecurities—Drops of Youth; Hope in a Jar—simultaneously inventing flaws in need of correction while conjuring religious faith as the only panacea for women’s inherent imperfections.