[Gallery Walk] The Technology That Calls the Stars Again... Why Has Yun Dongju's Poetry Met AI Now?

Kim Yeonsik's Exhibition "Poet Yun Dongju: Drawing, Writing, Singing"
An exhibition where painting, music, and AI become poetry within a single space

The poet has long since left this world, but the poems have not grown old. Only the way they are read has changed. The way Yun Dongju's poetry has been reborn is through artificial intelligence (AI).

The AI art special exhibition by Kim Yeonsik at Gallery Mona Lisa Sanchon in Insadong, Jongno, Seoul, poses a question: "Can Yun Dongju's poetry be called again in the sensibility of today? Is technology an enemy of poetry, or is it yet another translator?"

This exhibition was planned to commemorate the 81st anniversary of Yun Dongju's death. Its starting point is clear: the 116 poems Yun left behind. Rather than "interpreting" these poems, Kim Yeonsik chose a way to "let them breathe again." Painting, music, installation, and AI-generated images overlap within a single space. True to its title, the exhibition is structured around three verbs: "Drawing, Writing, and Singing."

In the realm of "Drawing," visitors encounter images where stars and darkness, solitude and hope intersect. Human figures are often looking up at the sky, holding light, or standing in the dark. There are no explanations. Instead, the emotional density contained in Yun Dongju's language is translated into visual form. Here, AI is less a subject of creation than a device that amplifies poetic sentiment.

In the "Writing" section, the poems are returned to sentences. The texts arranged alongside digital images invite not so much reading as gazing. The poems linger rather than being read through. Viewers do not so much follow the poems as stand before them.

The most striking part is "Singing." Music set to Yun Dongju's poems fills the space. Painting and music, lighting and installation work simultaneously, and the exhibition turns into a kind of stage. Appreciation is not linear. Through the process of looking, listening, and looking back again, the poems become an experience.

In this exhibition, the artist does not cast AI as the "protagonist of creation." Rather, he uses it as a tool to broaden the way we look at the poems. Explaining this approach, he says, "Rather than newly interpreting Yun Dongju's poetry, I wanted to call forth the silence and ethics embedded in his poems in the sensibility of today," adding, "AI was not a subject of creation, but a tool and medium that expanded the range of thought through which we view the poems."

As he suggests, AI does not replace the language of the poems. It simply expands the range of senses that the poems can reach. In this respect, this exhibition is less a technology show than an attitude toward poetry.

The exhibition design itself reinforces this message. Blue-toned indirect lighting, lines of light cutting across the floor, and music flowing between the installations transform visitors from "people who read" into "people who stay." The works are not consumed quickly. On the contrary, the more slowly one walks, the clearer Yun Dongju's language becomes.

Rather than newly reinterpreting Yun Dongju, this exhibition calls him back into the present moment. Technology is merely the medium that makes that calling possible. The stars are still in the night sky, and the questions still remain. How are we to live, even now? And poetry still poses that question in the quietest way. The exhibition runs until the 23rd.