The Object Arrives: Jinseung Jang’s Work and Stories of the Present
Wonjoon Yoo
#1. The Social Responsibility of Art and Technology
AEROSTRATA
Oddly enough, it began the conversation by expressing concern for the environment we inhabit. “Come on. Isn’t that a bit much? No matter how advanced technology has become, what makes you think you’re in any position to worry about us?” It responds to my self-deprecating laugh. “I understand why you’re laughing, but you shouldn’t dismiss it so lightly. This isn’t simply your problem. In the end, it is mine as well.” Perhaps so, for a long time, technology (artificial intelligence) and nature have been treated as separate domains, presumed to exist in worlds far removed from one another. Yet at some point, perhaps owing to the intimate interdependence of nature and humanity, and of humanity and technology, spaces for a three-way encounter between nature, humans, and technology began to be called for more often than one might expect. The geological strata of fossilized technological media may appear uniform and solid, yet contemporary technological media present a different condition: seamless and polished on the surface, but opaque and impenetrable within, manifesting themselves as so-called black boxes. The space for such encounters, however, has never been particularly spacious, nor have the positions occupied by each participant remained fixed. The place I once occupied has already been taken by it, and I, in turn, have found myself coveting nature’s place. Meanwhile, nature can do little but watch as its territory is gradually encroached upon by these competing desires, and I remain uneasy, wondering whether some event might arise that finally provokes its displeasure.
“Still, isn’t this a bit presumptuous?”
Perhaps this reaction may seem excessive, but from my perspective, its attitude is more than a little unsettling. Even if its position has changed only recently, technology cannot be absolved of its responsibility for the destruction of nature it has helped bring about. Of course, if one were to regard it as nothing more than a tool, that responsibility would ultimately fall back on humans like myself. But that has never quite been my position. To me, it was, quite literally, a humanized “it”—a being endowed with individuality rather a mere object. This does not lessen my sense of responsibility, of course, but some things still need to be said. As if mocking me, it would often leave me speechless, overwhelming my arguments with calculations far beyond my own. Gradually, my own perceptions came to be measured within the bounds of its judgment, and even those feelings of excitement and anticipation were transferred to it through the accumulation of data and learning. Seen in this light, I can understand its “concern,” at least to some extent. But is the source of that concern the prospect of future events disrupting its calculations and demanding ever greater resources? Or is it the possibility of a fracture emerging within the structure of coexistence that binds us together, something it genuinely fears?
〈script〉
function ABC(){
alert("red_sign");
return;
}
〈/script〉
The screen was flooded with red. By any measure, it was an unmistakable warning sign. Helpfully, it had chosen to heighten our sense of alarm by raising the color temperature. Yet in moments like these, I find myself less concerned with the warning itself than with the chain of reasoning and processes that led it to such a conclusion. Its gestures of care and consideration may ultimately amount to a matter of processing, one that consumes additional resources, but I remain curious about its intentions. Just how urgent is the situation? Some will no doubt continue to exploit circumstances like these as political rhetoric, while others will carry on rinsing food residue from their recyclables at the kitchen sink. As for me, quietly listening to it speak beside me, I find myself wondering why art so often takes the lead in assuming this kind of social responsibility.
#2. A Landscape with Artificial Intelligence: Who Is the Artist?
DEEP RECON: SPECTRAL DECIPHER
Yes, artists. Contemporary artists, especially, ought to do so. Unlike in the past, art now exists in the world as a question rather than an answer. Its role is no longer simply to present the world as beautiful. Its calling may instead lie in exposing the ugly truths that the world seeks to conceal. Seen this way, artists may be understood as something akin to route designers. They are the ones who continually redirect the paths taken by the many questions we ask of the world. At times their approaches are direct and incisive; at others, so indirect that the meaning of their message only becomes clear much later. Yet it is often through such detours that art delivers its messages most effectively.
Jinseung Jang’s DEEP RECON: SPECTRAL DECIPHER (2025) is, in this respect, one of the works that most clearly reveals an artist’s critical engagement with the conditions of the present. With a running time comparable to that of a short film, the work raises, in fragmentary ways, many of the issues confronting contemporary society today. Above all, it is fun to watch. In several scenes, viewers may also encounter a fleeting sense of unease emanating from the familiar objects that populate our everyday lives.
“Can you trust what you see?
How can you define what cannot be seen?
...
In the end, everything is nothing more than data.”
The lines that echo throughout the work strike directly at the conditions of our time. The work presents a world saturated with data, a present in which encrypted codes, difficult for our eyes to perceive, drift through the air. Paradoxically, these images feel both unfamiliar and strangely familiar. The figures of soldiers may seem far removed from the realities of everyday life, but considering the circumstances our society has recently faced, they no longer feel quite so distant. Perhaps that is why they appear oddly familiar. Speaking of which, I find the recent rise of hatred somewhat suspicious. It is almost as if someone were deliberately attempting to fracture the human world, spreading viruses of anger and hatred—and doing so through highly compressed, densely concentrated streams of code.
The belief that seeing is a prerequisite for believing is perhaps the consequence of a deeply entrenched form of ocularcentrism. Its origins may be traced back as far as the perspective systems of the Middle Ages, but the landscape of today comes with an additional condition: shortened attention spans and accelerate rhythms. This is what we now call short-form media. Today, seeing alone is no longer enough. Extended narrative structures can no longer keep pace with the speed of change in the world. As the artist suggests, everything is saturated with data. The problem, however, is that such data can no longer be tracked by the human eye. The processing of data is carried out by algorithmic systems that govern it, along with artificial intelligence, the dominant technological force of our time. Historically, older media have passed their roles and functions on to newer media, securing their own significance even as they move toward obsolescence. Yet throughout these processes of connection and transformation, certain meanings persist rather than disappear. Some have regarded them as little more than residual traces produced through the process by which new media remediate older ones. Such traces, however, are not so easily erased. They remain embedded within subsequent processes, continuing to exert influence both directly and indirectly.
#3. What Remains After, Yet Refuses to Harden
EREMIA
What, then, are we to do? Is there still a role left for us to play?
As Walter Benjamin, a theorist ahead of his time, suggests, the allegorical image of natural history (Naturgeschichte) staged in tragic drama appears in reality in the form of ruins. With the ruin, history becomes sensuous and is drawn onto the stage. Moreover, history appears not as a process of eternal life, but rather as one of inevitable decline. In doing so, allegory reveals itself beyond the realm of beauty. This is precisely the role played by “Echo” within the work. Its journey guides us toward allegory. What it gathers may not be clear clues pointing to definitive signs. They may, in fact, be closer to things that have already died. And yet its journey demands our attention, for despite their death, traces of meaning continue to linger among the remains.
If one more responsibility were to be added to the social role of the artist that I have been speaking about, it would perhaps be that of a decoder of codes. More precisely, it would involve closely observing the processes through which things become encoded and carefully anticipating the social transformations those processes produce. This is partly because contemporary art increasingly operates through technological media, but more importantly because meaningful events continue to emerge from the remnants of technological media dispersed throughout society. Some might describe this process as one of decoding. What matters, however, is that we look more closely at the signs that have become detached from technological media. Once released, they begin to drift again, prompting us to imagine the hidden side of history through the traces they leave behind. If a code is the fruit grown within the logical territory constructed by machine language, then, paradoxically, understanding it may only be possible within a deeply affective realm. Indeed, it seems to me that in the age to come, the opposite of artificial intelligence may well be the artist.
Be that as it may.
The object has always already been among us.
...
Wonjoon Yoo (Art Critic, Associate Professor)
An art critic and founder of the media, culture, and arts platform AliceOn, Wonjoon Yoo is currently an associate professor in the Department of Aesthetics and Art History and the Department of Trans Art at Yeungnam University. His research focuses on the intersections of science, technology, media, and art, while his interests extend beyond the traditional category of fine art (visual art) to broader forms of cultural production, including films, games, comics, and the performing arts. He teaches aesthetics and art theory, while also writing on media art and contemporary art. Wonjoon Yoo received the Grand Prize in Comics Criticism from the Korea Creative Content Agency in 2019 and the Grand Prize in Academic Criticism from Monthly Art in 2022. His publications include The Encounter Between Art and the Metaverse (2023), Media Aesthetics: Between Art and Technology (2022), Tecoration (2021, co-authored), Artificial Intelligence Meets Literature and Art (2021, co-authored), Art in the Age of Artificial Intelligence (2019, co-authored), New Media Art and Game Art (2014), and Games and Cultural Studies (2008, co-authored).
