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Licht

빛

Media Wall Interdisciplinary Performance
Asia Culture Center, Gwangju, Korea
2018 · Restaged 2019

Credit
Director / Video   Jayoung Chung
Selected · 2018 4 Walls Media Open Call, Asia Culture Center

1. The Site of the Work

The media wall at the Asia Culture Center stands back-to-back with the old Jeollanam-do Provincial Office — now the Democracy and Human Rights Center for Peace — the final site of resistance in the May 18 Democratization Movement. While video plays, the mesh-material media wall conceals what lies behind it: the ground where the uprising actually took place. The surface spectacle risks obscuring the real place and event behind it.

In response, portraits of the martyrs were hung before the provincial office, and thirty-eight lights were installed in front of them. The moment the video disappears, the lights come on and illuminate the faces. This transition — where the vanishing of the image meets the emergence of light — is the center of the work.

2. Jesus Is Light

Light is Jesus. That light illuminates the face.

"I am come a light into the world, that whosoever believeth on me should not abide in darkness." — John 12:46

The ten titles trace an arc: Soundless Shouting (5/18), Standing Up (5/19), Moving Forward (5/20), Revealing Truth (5/21), Comforting (5/22), Vanishing (5/23), Seeking (5/24), The Reason (5/25), March of the Dead (5/26), Into the Darkness (5/27) — a rhythm of revelation and concealment.

After 5/27, “Light, Was. And the Resurrection of Light” reframes this vanishing as the darkness before resurrection, not a final one. This lineage of light, carried into the candlelight vigils, testifies to May 18 as an event that keeps being relit. A face shone once and disappeared, but that light is relit in another hand, another candle.

3. The Face Opened by Light

For Balthasar, recognizing a face is an ontological event — as an infant learns beauty, goodness, and truth from its mother's face. To lose sight of a face, like Cain whose "countenance fell" before God, is to lose relationship and humanity itself.

The photograph of this installation shows that contrast directly. The grid of windows, each holding a face, is an independent form through which — as with the form of Christ for Balthasar — glory becomes visible: not an anonymous death, but a named one. The countless red and gold specks scattered across the other screen are light without form — particles never individuated into a face, close to the "totality" Levinas warned against. For Levinas the face is not an image but an expression; its deepest meaning is the first commandment, "Thou shalt not kill."

The moment the lights come on and the windows brighten is the event that returns this mass to a face — nameless points restored to faces, to names, to "you."

Paul wrote of "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Corinthians 4:6). The moment the thirty-eight lights opened the faces was not a metaphor for this verse but the event itself: this light was Jesus.

4. The Mesh Wall: Between Idol and Icon

Jean-Luc Marion distinguishes the idol from the icon by where the gaze comes to rest. The idol is a mirror — the gaze stops at the surface, reflecting only the viewer's own intention. The icon is a window — it lets the gaze pass through, toward the invisible.

The mesh wall, while playing video, resembles an idol. But the moment the video disappears and light illuminates the faces, the mesh turns translucent and becomes an icon. The gaze passes through the faces toward the events of May 1980.

5. The Vanishing Presence

At this moment of transition, the performer briefly stands and disappears. Not representing anything — simply present for a moment, connecting the audience and the martyrs, then withdrawing. This presence, wholly given yet never possessed, resonates with the way the risen Christ "vanished from their sight" the instant he broke bread at Emmaus.

6. The Last Night, Toward the Last Supper

On the final night, those who remained in the provincial office knew that staying meant death — and still they did not leave. A body voluntarily remaining in the face of death overlaps with the scene of the Last Supper. "This is my body, given for you" is not the language of escape but of self-giving.

This form of the last night became the decisive impetus for later giving form to the Last Supper of the Mass. Licht interprets the events of Gwangju through a biblical frame — and that interpretation, in turn, lets us see the Last Supper anew.

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