Lee Bul
"Lee Bul" by Charlene Lau, Summer 2008, pp. 87-88
Never before having visited the Fondation Cartier, I had diamond-encrusted visions of the Jean Nouvel–designed building. Sure enough, on a rainy Parisian night after work, I discovered that all that glitters is, indeed, Cartier and Lee Bul. The last time I saw an exhibition of Bul’s was at The Power Plant, where in 2002 she showed her futuristic karaoke pods. It is with this same sense of looking forward that she has transformed the Fondation Cartier exhibition space into an ominous but luminous display.
The most remarkable aspect of the exhibition is the mirrored floor. While scratched by visitors’ footsteps throughout most of the space, the surface remains untouched below each of the show’s hanging sculptures, affording a glimpse of these works’ construction. Bul has crafted a series of intricately beaded chandeliers: one large example hangs low from the ceiling, sweeping the ground beneath. The series, After Bruno Taut, was inspired by the German architect Taut’s utopian drawings of glass buildings. In a corner, meanwhile, towers Aubade, a miniature power station of LED lights that spirals towards the ceiling through seemingly infinite space. The strobing lights spell out gibberish (actually words in Esperanto): SONO, BRUL, MALMOLTO. If this is the future, it looks to be grim and puzzling.
Standing forlornly in another corner is Bunker (M. Bakhtin), a tribute to the Russian theorist Mikhail Bakhtin. It is a squat, blocky black fibreglass cave fitted with a small window that recalls a person-sized action-figure abode. Inside are a pair of headphones and seven microphones. I snap my fingers and minutes later, unsure if I am hallucinating, I think I hear the snap echoing through the gallery. Across the way is Thaw (Takaki Masao), a translucent coffin inside which lies a nude dummy of the South Korean dictator Park Chung Hee. A long black beaded lock of “hair” emerges from within the sculpture and trails onto the floor.
In the next room is the exhibition’s most loaded work, Heaven and Earth. A large white-tiled bathtub-like structure filled with black ink, this piece sits in the centre of the space, its poetic title adding to the sculpture’s eerie serenity. The edges of the structure are shaped as a representation of Baekdu Mountain, the sacred mountain Koreans consider the mythical birthplace of their nation. It also serves as an icon of their 35-year struggle against the Japanese occupation of Korea during the early 20th century. The pool is like a vat of murky death, the inky blackness of which extends far deeper than the tub itself.
Bul’s current work is very much in step with a trendy, electro, video game–inspired but refined-cool aesthetic. It is visually appealing, seamless work that is equally dazzling and dour.
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