Visitors entering the first gallery of the group exhibition “apmap 2022 seoul—apmap review” at the Amorepacific Museum of Art (APMA) in Seoul, South Korea, immediately encountered Dance for the Night, an installation by artist Minseop Yoon (MFA 2013 Fine Arts). Depicting seven ballet dancers caught in a series of graceful mid-performance poses, the piece conveys their kinetic movements and balletic expressions with sculptures composed of intricately interconnected lightweight black wires. Dancers and props are suspended from the ceiling by filaments and set at various intervals, seemingly floating above their shadows throughout an invisible stage. The work is startling not only for its large scale and sense of motion, but also for appearing, improbably, as though it is drawn on thin air. 

Such is the magic conjured by Yoon using a technique she calls “drawing in space,” which produces the illusion of a liminal plane existing between the 2D and 3D. As you might expect, the effect sparks reactions of surprise and delight that come from experiencing this sort of visual sleight of hand. But even more important for Yoon, creating this in-between realm provides greater room for physical interactivity and interpretation with the piece—and therefore, a deeper, more personal experience for the viewer. 

In the case of Dance, for example, people can easily walk among the dancers, observing their expressions and their spatial relationships. As APMA’s wall text at the exhibition noted, by moving through the piece, visitors are, in a way, bringing the depicted performance to life.

Over cups of tea at the museum following an exhibition walkthrough, Yoon reflected on the genesis of the piece—the size of the gallery space had reminded her of a concert hall, inspiring images of ballets like Beauty and the Beast and Swan Lake. Developed during what she calls the more “depressing” months of the pandemic, the ballet scene was a deliberate departure from other series and one intended to bring joy through specific expressions. “I wanted to make something that was very different from my ordinary life,” she says. 

By contrast, earlier works—such as her “People” series, begun in 2014 after a 40-day trip through Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam and China—are more neutral or even melancholy, depicting faceless figures of various ages walking with their backs to the viewer. She was initially apprehensive about traveling to these new places, but the journey was revelatory, she says, for the commonality she encountered—everyone going about their daily business, just as she and her family members do.

“People I,” Yoon’s 2014 installation at Gyeonggi Museum of Art, shows a succession of adults and children heading toward an unknown destination. Working from photos taken during those travels, she left their faces deliberately blank to create an ambiguity that leads to a broader level of relatability and self-reflection. “This is because the people in the work can be not one specific person, but everyone around me,” she says. “They can be my parents, friends and myself. This is the same for the audience.” She is most satisfied when her pieces evoke a memory. “One visitor said that he recalled his daughter’s childhood while looking at my artworks,” she says. 

After earning her BFA in sculpture at Chung-Ang University in Seoul in 2005, Yoon gravitated toward drawing for the practical reason that she simply didn’t have the studio space to create large works. But she soon also discovered that drawing—a practice she hadn’t focused on before—provided a sense of emotional security. “I didn't have any space to make my artwork, so I drew. . . . I felt I could get into my drawings on small paper. After that, I wanted to make them in real space. . . . It was escaping from my normal life—by escaping into my drawings.” 

While at SVA, Yoon experimented with creating works from various materials, finding the best results with thin plastic rods. She manipulates them by warming them over a candle flame, then twists them into her desired shapes. The process is meditative. “It’s like a vacation,” she says. “It’s calming to me.” At times, however, she has turned to metal for large-scale outdoor installations, such as The Girl (2017, 2018), built on Jeju Island as part of an earlier project with APMA, and a 2021 public art project in Osan, which required the more durable stainless steel to withstand the forces of nature. Some pieces mix the two media: in Dance for the Night, the figures’ shadows on the floor are made of scattered black steel rods.

The themes of comfort and self-reflection found within quiet empty spaces run consistently through Yoon’s work. A self-described introvert, she recalls being shy and quiet in school as a child, and didn’t study well, “but I was praised by my teacher in art class. So I think I liked art [because I] could express myself even without voice.” 

“The Room,” an ongoing series she started in 2012 at SVA, depicts elements from her own living spaces—a clothes closet, a doorway, a workspace with a computer, lamp, bookshelves and discarded boots and clothing. Early lines were hashed and scratched and over time became more refined. Throughout making the series and moving the domestic objects within them, she intended to discover something about herself and reveal how spaces and things are both deeply personal yet blankly utilitarian. “By rearranging these personal objects in the gallery space I try to observe myself and re-recognize my existence,” she says. 

“The place I like best in the world is my room. No matter what happens outside I feel safe in my room. . . . I even love the messy and chaotic room’s distractions. . . . Being inside my room, I feel completely separated from the rest of the world and can forget about things and other people outside. It just feels like swimming underwater.”

A statement accompanying Yoon’s The Room III (2014) quotes from Tao Te Ching, Laozi’s ancient guide to living a life of peace:

“We put 30 spokes together and call it a wheel;

But it is in the space where there is nothing that the usefulness of the wheel depends.

We turn clay to make a vessel;

But it is in the space where there is nothing that the usefulness of the vessel depends.

We pierce doors and windows to make a house;

And it is in these spaces where there is nothing that the usefulness of the house depends.

Therefore just as we take advantage of what is, we should recognize the usefulness of what is not.”

When asked about her next artistic challenge, her response seems directly inspired from those teachings. “I am thinking about silence as an expression,” she says. “So far, I've been making works that constantly make stories by adding realistic images. However, sometimes it is overwhelming to talk nonstop and be surrounded by so many images. So I'm thinking about silence in visual arts these days.”

Minseop Yoon’s work was last seen in the window of Maison Hermès Dosan Park in Seoul last fall as part of an ongoing series featuring original artwork with elements playfully interacting with Hermès objects. Follow her on Instagram @minseop_yoon, for more.

A version of this article appears in the fall/winter 2023 Visual Arts Journal.