Sewol ferry disaster echoes through art after 10 years
GMoMA’s ‘Memory, Stare, Wish’ explores collectively bearing weight of loss, learning to move forward
In a black-and-white single-take film spanning an uninterrupted 90 minutes, a dancer gracefully maneuvers her body within the confines of a minimalist space. Upon closer inspection, each movement — the sway of limbs, the twist of spine and the gesturing of hands — appears as fleeting brushstrokes spelling out a hidden message.
That message is, in fact, a list — a long, somber list of 304 people whose lives were lost in the tragic sinking of the Sewol ferry in 2014, including 250 high school students on a field trip.
In “Call My Name,” choreographer Song Joo-won puts names to the death toll of one of Korea’s deadliest peacetime disasters through her own body.
“In the last 10 years, have any of us ever really tried calling out the names of all 304 victims?” asks the artist. “I wanted to summon each individual, whose presence has been buried in the collective memory of the casualties, back to this world once more, one by one.”
Song’s poignant film is playing in a loop at the Gyeonggi Museum of Modern Art (GMoMA) in Ansan, Gyeonggi Province — a public museum that has been, both physically and spiritually, close to the Sewol ferry victims and their families for the past decade.
Just across the lake from the GMoMA stands Danwon High School, the alma mater of all 250 sophomore students whose lives were taken when the vessel sank off the country’s southwestern coast on April 16, 2014. In the years following the disaster, the museum’s conference rooms and parking lot were repurposed as memorials to the victims and spaces for the grieving families.
The museum has consistently reckoned with the impact of the calamity through art, notably in group shows mounted in 2016 and 2021. This year, commemorating the 10th anniversary of the tragedy, it marks this solemn milestone with a new exhibition titled “Memory, Stare, Wish.”
Organizing the show with such gravity was indeed a deeply introspective process for Jo Min-hwa, the museum’s curator.
“I found myself thinking a lot about when we would have the opportunity to address the Sewol tragedy again on such a significant scale after this anniversary exhibition. I personally felt uncertain about whether that would even be a possibility,” she shared during a press preview of the show, Friday.
This sense of uncertainty, coupled with a pressing need for action, was what propelled her to curate the presentation that not only honors the memory of the victims but, more importantly, also reflects on how the community as a whole can collectively bear the weight of loss and learn to move forward.
The exhibition invites 17 artists spanning different generations, from those born after the 1950-53 Korean War to those just a few years apart from the Sewol victims, presenting their perspectives on the aftermath of the calamity and what lies beyond.
Some transform objects directly associated with the tragedy into a lyrical stage for remembrance.
Yoon Dong-chun’s “Yellow Room” features a mammoth installation in the shape of a yellow ribbon, which became a symbol of mourning and solidarity. Reverberating through the space is the ringing of a brass bell, reminiscent of the sound used to locate out-of-sight horses in the Nepalese mountains.
In Hong Soun’s “Paengmok” series, bulbous sculptural assemblages are made entirely of objects scattered across the harbor of Jindo County, where the ship overturned. And Jeon Won-gil has gathered soil from the dock and the Sewol vessel itself, turning it into a wildflower bed in his “Unforgettable Stars.”
Others suggest that the sinking of the Sewol ferry should not be viewed as an isolated incident in Korea but rather understood as part of a chain of catastrophes, indicative of a trend where the country, often neglecting public safety, faces recurring manmade disasters.
Keem Ji-young vividly illustrates this point in her “Blue Series.” Her oil pastel drawings recreate news photographs depicting 32 fatal disasters that have occurred since the 1950s, including the 1995 collapse of the Sampoong Department Store, which left 502 dead, and the 2003 Daegu subway fire that claimed 192 lives.
Photographer Hwang Ye-zoi, an Ansan resident, was a university student when she first heard about the Sewol ferry tragedy. Among the victims was her middle school teacher, who had played a significant role in guiding her during her wayward teenage years.
In her series, “When the Mist Clears,” she embarked on a journey of interviewing residents of both Ansan and Jindo, capturing their stories and memories through evocative black-andwhite images.
“As I spoke to the younger generation, who are similar in age to the Sewol victims, I realized that their way of digesting and processing manmade disasters was completely different from their older counterparts,” she reflected. “It was much more immediate and visceral. Some were survivors. Some were supposed to be on the Sewol ferry next when it returned. Others were in Itaewon in 2022 during the deadly crowd crush incident.”
The show concludes with a message of solidarity through Ahn Kyu-chul’s participatory art piece, “Horizon of My Mind.”
The seasoned creative divided a seven-meter-long canvas with a rough sketch into 3,000 square aluminum panels. Each visitor has the opportunity to color one of these pieces using only seven designated hues.
“While each individual panel may seem insignificant, depicting only tiny ripples, when they all come together, a vast horizon emerges,” Ahn said. “Perhaps remembering the Sewol ferry tragedy could be an experience like this — each person preserving their own memories in their own way and sharing them with one another when the time feels right.”
Throughout the exhibition period, the museum’s lobby will put on view an array of glass works, tufted textiles and pressed flowers, all fashioned by the victims’ families, who have found solace in banding together and sharing their pain through handicrafts since 2014.
“Memory, Stare, Wish” runs through July 14 at the GMoMA. Admission is free.