by Kim Heeyun
Published 29 Apr.2026 15:14(KST)
Updated 30 Apr.2026 07:29(KST)
As you step inside the black curtain, a haze of smoke lingers low to the ground. Sirens blare, and beams of light sweep across your face. Out of the darkness, a voice speaks: "You are now inside my work." Here, the audience is not merely an observer, but a participant enveloped by the artwork itself.
This is "Muchejeon," created by Jeong Kangja in 1970. It was her first solo exhibition, held at the National Public Information Hall, and one of the earliest environmental art pieces attempted by a Korean female artist. However, the exhibition was dismantled midway. The state authorities, interpreting avant-garde art as political agitation, closed the room. All that remained were a few articles, the artist’s notes, and fragments of memory. After 56 years, the Leeum Museum of Art has reconstructed this vanished room.
The special exhibition "Into Another Space: Multisensory Environments by Women Artists 1956-1976," opening on May 5 at the Leeum Museum of Art in Yongsan-gu, Seoul, begins with this very scene. This exhibition cannot be summed up as merely "introducing forgotten women artists." More precisely, it reexamines artistic forms that were easily lost to history-art that could not be hung on the wall, was difficult to sell, and was dismantled after the exhibition ended. What does it mean for art to be so fleeting, leaving barely a trace as an artwork or as history?
Art was no longer an object hanging on the wall. It became a space that surrounded the body, disoriented the senses, and simultaneously stirred the skin, ears, and eyes. The problem was such art was difficult to preserve for long. After the exhibition, works were dismantled, rarely traded, and records scattered. With the added condition of being created by women, their work was erased from art history once by institutional neglect, and again by the physical disappearance of the artwork itself.
The exhibition spans roughly 20 years, from Yamazaki Tsuruko's "Red," presented at the 1956 Gutai Art Exhibition in Japan, to the "Environment/Art" section of the 1976 Venice Biennale. Eleven women artists-including Judy Chicago, Lygia Clark, Laura Grisi, Aleksandra Kasuba, Jeong Kangja, Lea Lublin, Marta Minuj?n, Tania Mouraud, Nanda Vigo, Yamazaki Tsuruko, and Marianne Zazeela-have had their environmental works recreated in full scale.
"Environment" here does not mean a format where the viewer stands outside the work. Instead, it is art that the audience physically enters, experiencing light, sound, color, air, wind, and touch with their entire body. It is a prehistory to the now-familiar "installation" art. Yet, women artists’ names were often omitted from that history. Their works were ephemeral, documentation was scarce, and the focus of art history remained on painting, sculpture, and the narratives of male artists and institutions.
Thus, the core of this exhibition is restoration. However, it is not restoration in the sense of perfectly replicating the original. Rather, it is a kind of restoration that accepts the impossibility of total recovery. Artistic directors Andrea Lissoni of Haus der Kunst and Marina Pugliese of MUDEC Milan traced magazine articles, exhibition layouts, photographs, and artist estate materials from the era. They spoke directly with surviving artists and pieced together the work of those who have passed through discussions with their families and archival materials. At a press conference, Director Lissoni described the process as "forensic"-more akin to investigation than creation.
"Muchejeon" most clearly reveals these challenges. No precise blueprints, dimensions, or lighting angles remained. Only clues such as a black vinyl curtain, smoke, beams of light, and the artist’s voice were available. Leeum Museum reconstructed the space using newspaper articles, artist notes, and family testimony. As no recordings of Jeong Kangja’s actual voice existed, an AI-generated voice was created based on audio materials provided by her family. Can this be called an original? It is difficult to say so easily. Yet, that very question becomes an essential part of this exhibition.
If Jeong Kangja’s room represents a time that was cut off, then "Dream House" by Marianne Zazeela, La Monte Young, and Choi Junghee is a time that continues. Conceived in 1962 and first realized in a New York loft in 1966, this environment of sound and light remains in constant variation to this day. The Leeum exhibition presents this work in Asia for the first time. One is a room forcibly closed; the other has endured. By placing these two side by side, Leeum shows the dual timelines of environmental art: the time of restoration and the time of continuity.
Within the exhibition space, visitors often react physically before seeking any explanation. Yamazaki Tsuruko’s "Red" is a red structure one must stoop to enter. Lygia Clark’s "House is the Body" is a physical apparatus that embodies the processes of conception and birth. Marta Minuj?n’s "Live by Rolling!" is a playful and provocative space made of mattresses. In front of Laura Grisi’s "Sirocco," actual wind pushes back at visitors. Judy Chicago’s "Feather Room" fills the space not with rigid materials and the authority of straight lines, but with light, drifting textures.
However, this exhibition is distinct from a typical "interactive" show. It is not about pretty lights or unfamiliar spaces. Here, sensation itself becomes an assertion. Soft fabric, feathers, wind, smoke, and sound are not mere decoration. They displace painting and sculpture’s central place in art history, placing the viewer’s body at the heart of the work. The fact that these are works by women artists is also crucial. They did not choose marginal forms because they were on the periphery; rather, they created spaces that could not exist within the language of the established center.
Kim Sungwon, Deputy Director of Leeum Museum of Art, described the exhibition at a press conference as "a show that is both professional and art-historically significant, while also being accessible to the public." Indeed, both children and art historians can respond to the exhibition on different levels. Yet, behind this ease of response lies a weighty question: Why are some works preserved for a long time, while others disappear first? Why do some artists remain in art history while others are only restored belatedly?
"Into Another Space" does not merely showcase the work of eleven women artists. It is a belated inquiry into what art history has recognized as art, and what it has considered worthy of record. Even after leaving the gallery, what lingers is not the afterimage of light, but the realization that many rooms that were once closed still exist within our art history. The exhibition runs until November 29.
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