A walk around Haegue Yang: Leap Year, the newest exhibition at the Hayward Gallery, is impressive to say the least. If someone had been plopped in, blindfolded, into the midst of the exhibition with no explanation, they might almost mistake it for an exhibition showcasing the work of multiple artists, such is the sheer scale of work on offer.
Room after room takes you into the depths of the South Korean artist’s mind, perhaps a close simulation to what Alice might have felt going down that rabbit hole. Laundry racks and bulbs go from ordinary household objects to structures of illumination, fairy lights and stars combine to cast shapes against stark photographs on walls and a room full of colourful slats loom large like dystopian clouds.
Haegue Yang seems to delight in making the ordinary extraordinary, as evidenced in her utilisation and study of the crafts of many marginalised peoples as seen in Mesmerisng Mesh. Here, she plays with shrine-like frames, paper-cutting traditions and the rituals they are connected to, in order to create a wholly absorbing piece of work that brings culture and superstition to life.
To some, the exhibition might seem overwhelming: there is simply so much work to see that it almost feels like it should be a retrospective celebration of an artist’s life and career. To others, the sheer amount of work at display truly does feel otherworldly, as if you are journeying through the multiple different layers of an artist’s brain.
Perhaps, then, what Yang has created is an interesting commentary on how art connects with people today. In a world where we craft and mold less with our hands than ever – leaving more and more to the machines – it is truly impressive to see the great and eclectic level of creativity from Yang. It is a non-stop display of work from someone so deeply driven to create and explore, and it is beautiful to see.
Yet often the biggest and most arresting pieces are not the most affecting; the best and most poignant works are the ones that are instead that feel the most personal and the most grounded in emotion.
Sonic Droplets in Gradation – Water Veil (2024) connection to her own reflections on East Asian and European folk traditions, as well as her admiration for Cuban-born American artist Felix Gonzales-Torres. The installation Star-Crossed Rendezvous after Yun (2024) tells a folk story set to the music of Double Concerto (1977) by South Korean composer Isang Yun. Once a political prisoner, his concerto loosely tells a doomed Korean folk love story around which Yang reflects on the nature of exile and separation. Another particularly quietly poignant piece comes via a joint poetry-based work between Yang and her mother.
Us humans have always been impressed by size and scale and numbers, often utilising those (rightfully or wrongfully) as a benchmark for success. In the age of social media we question that approach to life now more than ever. Within Haegue Yang: Leap Year, it feels like the artist is also raising those questions: within herself, and regarding the world around her.
What is tradition? What is modernity? What is beauty? What is success?
What is art?
Perhaps you will leave the exhibition with some answers.
More information about Haegue Yang: Leap Year can be found here. The exhibition runs until the 5th of January
