Harvesting Uncanny:
Jongwan Jang’s Goldilocks Zone
Sometimes, I think about Jongwan Jang’s exhibition, Goldilocks Zone, from last year at Foundry Seoul. Young and brazen Goldilocks was not afraid to taste two unknown bowls of porridge until she found the one that was “just right.” After feeling content, she proceeded with the same bold ordeal to rest on a bed that, too, felt “just right.” In a similar vein of steadfast pursuit for an ideal environment, Jang’s new series of 30 painting-based works illustrated a curious narrative of an agrarian utopia, revealing a space for contemplation, navigating the fine line between charm and horror amidst an atmosphere of uncanny irony.
Goldilocks Zone, a concept familiar in the study of astrobiology and economics, refers to an ideal state of an environment that is typically sandwiched between a state of being too much or too little. As the name suggests, it’s a concept adopted from the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, where after a couple of attempts, Goldilocks determines the “just right” conditions of food and rest as she surveys an unacquainted home of Three Bears.
The common ground between Goldilocks’ quest and Jang’s agrarian utopia lies in a naive irony that arises in the process of the pursuit of the ideal. In the case of Goldilocks, who was she to be seeking optimized comfort in the private domain of a complete stranger? In Jang’s visual narrative, the heads of figures have been replaced with a yellow and green tropical orchid, and we see the version of the natural world that has been groomed to produce agricultural goods for consumption. While the scenery of organized farmland and peaceful harvests are a quintessential imagery of ethical agriculture for general consumers, for it to be worked by orchid-headed figures who have the body of humans, one cannot help but to become perplexed at the pictorial satire of what essentially appears to be human-motivated nature harvesting nature–which also happens to be the usual stage for which Jang’s tale takes place upon.
Jang’s brushwork for his composition should also be considered with the narrative at hand. Characterised by wet and short strides and its physical chemistry with the canvas–frequently, composed of either Korean paper and linen–the result of the layering, both translucent yet bold, creates an intentional kitsch-and-textbook-illustration-like picture that tells a continuous story. The ultimate completion to this forthright impression lies in the vibrancy of colour choice; idealised colours of nature in full sun. Altogether, it radiates a perception of overt and artificial perfection.
Perhaps that may be the first indicator of the sense of spookiness that these candid, poster-like snapshots of the farming human-bodied orchid figures give off, as intuitively, something feels off. A proposition comes into mind: under the most bizarre circumstances, the difference between charm and horror is only by a hair. If the farmers in Go West (2023) were to have a body more fitting to its respective faces, would the microphone-holding otter and the fist-sized bees be conceived as part of just another element in a surreal painting? If the meerkats in Goldilocks Zone (2023) were looking at the forest across the lake to scavenge instead of what appears to be a floating red mushroom head, would the face of the one meerkat staring back at us appear less ominous? Why does a shining walnut moon in Words 3 (2023) suddenly appear to be an alien invasion to earth?
Image of Go West (2023)
The absurd juxtapositions that constitute the physical makeup of this utopian world is Jang’s response to the drastic changes in the agricultural landscape that has been fueled by its convergence with recent scientific advancements and economic demands. At its core, rapacity, and its subsequent trajectory to subjugate nature has become the item of discussion that premises the visual paradox the artist portrays. The artist encourages the imagination of whether there once has been, or currently exists another planet within the goldilocks zone for human living, and perhaps by extension, what would its best possible case of coexistence with nature look like?
Jang explores fundamental emotions such as anxiety, fantasy, and salvation, prompting contemplation on faith and unease within hypothetical utopian realms. Delving into cosmic landscapes, he merges themes of evolution and futurism with agriculture, blending familiar rural motifs with incongruous references to evoke a surreal yet familiar atmosphere in his artworks. The obvious personification of vegetation and animals unveil a final food for thought. What is it really about anthropomorphism that treads along the fine lines of supposed utopia and eerie dystopia? Are we bothered because the animals look like us, or vice versa? Do we evolve to become that, or does that evolve to become us? As we wade through the uncanny crops of Jang’s imagination, one thing becomes abundantly clear: perhaps in this agrarian drama, the true harvest lies not in the produce of his organic construction, but in the unsettling questions it sows within us.
Goldilocks Zone was Jang Jongwan’s solo exhibition at Foundry Seoul, which took place from November 10 to December 23, 2023.
Dyana Kim. All images my own unless stated otherwise.