Exhibition Information

			Deformation 
Gallery DOS curator Kim Chi-hyun

Unlike the simple actions of instinct and providence, the work-making activities began with the desire of creation and dispersal of emotions. At the point of seeking pleasure, humans briefly turned away from the diligence of survival and explored to gain maximum pleasure with minimal effort. The irony of rapid development contributed by laziness has again brought paradoxes as the purpose of art has been differentiated. The act of creating a work requires a calculated and precise design, but the slow and foolish time of pain and patience that follows creation mutates into echoes and impressions deep enough to overshadow the cutting-edge speed and efficiency. Yun Yeong-mun creates an unknown form of human pulsation with soil that contains ancient temperatures and remains of living things. 

The surface of the work, which is glazed and smoothed out, permeates the complexity of a person's home, which was strangely simple when you look back over time. It has a form and structure that does not remind me of any special uses and origins, but if you try to force it a little bit, it can be accumulated together or not dangerous. The soil-colored gloss that permeates beyond the dark blue color as if it were brushed off by the water beneath the surface is repeated regardless of depth, making people tame and dull, but the bubble of the sea is dried up at a time when they can't tell what unpredictable port of death is lurking. Like an attachment to a pillar that is hard to infer the whole, the internal organs of the animal cut off from the cut column shape can be seen, and the blood vessels of the city rooted in asphalt and concrete can be recalled. 

Without water and fire flowing through crude pipes that creak with rust like joints that have lost flexibility due to aging, any tall tower and huge walls built by humans are just ugly objects that will be split into dust and droplets. However, Yoon Young-moon sees the power of struggling, not ruins, in an empty shell that had been filled with life until time passed again. When the hermit crab grows bigger, it finds another house even if it has a grudge to reveal its broad belly, and the empty house soon becomes the home of another hermit crab. In the hole, where there are traces of the fluid spouting out along with the possibility of an amorphous work made of soil, there is not the emptiness of the fake waves made up to soothe memories, but the fishy breathing of previous owners.

In the act of creation and production, People are afraid of defects. The uncontrolled growth and proliferation of organisms encountered in reality are monsters that break down the thin balance set by human standards, although they dream of growth and proliferation of the body for convenience even in the least amount of labor that is essential to action. The author looks fearlessly at the inflections growing wild outside the boundaries of the predictive range. They do not rely vaguely on mistakes or accidental effects, but are calm and slow calculations that resemble the whims of a person with a depth of unknown color under his will. And it shows the indisputable results from itself. 

Chloride in the kiln may be a terrible ordeal for the thin and weak self, but it is a time of fixing that must be taken off in order for the soft soil to become as hard as a rock and shape it. The generosity needed to give shape through a person's thin and small fingers stems from the moisture of the soil. The moisture evaporates and contracts, and the soil fills even the fine cracks where the water was located, and solidly polishes the structure in an unstable state. The bite that heat takes away is a loss of possibility, but it is also a time of purification to burn impurities. However, like the mysteriousness of time filled with unpredictable pieces, the remaining pieces are dried up with small soot and hardened together like pearls, not stains, on the surface of the work.