Sunmin Park’s work bridges micro and macro, nature and civilization, presence and absence. In this interview, she reflects on site-specificity, materiality, and the interplay of human and natural forces, challenging binaries that shape our perception.
Sunmin Park’s artistic practice exists in a space of oscillation – between micro and macro, civilization and nature, presence and absence. Her work, spanning photography, video, drawing, and installation, probes the unseen, tracing relationships between internal perception and external reality. In this interview, conducted in the evocative setting of the Frescobaldi vineyards, Park reflects on her approach to site-specificity, materiality, and the delicate entanglement of human intervention with natural processes. Exploring themes of temporality and spatial perception, she invites us to reconsider the binaries that define our experience of the world.
The Frescobaldi project brought you to work in a unique setting like the Tuscan vineyards. How did you interpret the theme of the relationship between humans and the environment in your work?
I used to live without much interest in how the products I consume daily are produced. I’m not even someone who enjoys shopping. When I enjoyed a glass of fine wine, I only focused on its taste and price, never giving it a second thought. However, I experienced firsthand how many diverse fields of human society are intertwined behind the everyday consumer product we call wine. This realization sparked great curiosity in me, as it connected deeply with the subjects I’ve always been interested in: humanity, culture, environment, nature, and life. I believe that the harmonious interplay of nature’s essential elements—earth, sun, rain, and wind—allowing grape seeds to sprout, fruits to ripen, and red wine to be born through human effort, is an amazing ensemble of human and environmental collaboration, spanning vast stretches of time and the entire planet.
What were your first impressions when you visited the Frescobaldi vineyards? How did they influence your creative process?
My first impression was that this place was vast, extremely quiet. For someone like me, born and raised in the densely populated city of Seoul, spending time here feels almost surreal. The calm and peaceful rhythm of this place slows down my pulse and movements. This change naturally alters my perspective, allowing me to see the world with a more intimate and delicate gaze than before.
Your work often explores the relationship between nature, technology, and identity. How did you approach these themes in this project?
It filled me with awe to realize that a single drop of wine, reaching my palate all the way in Korea, encapsulates a thousand years of family history, seven centuries of artistic winemaking techniques, and the rich culture and vast nature of fertile lands. The sheer complexity of how such extensive time and space can be contained within this tiny drop is astonishing. My question and approach revolve around how to bring this vast world of time and space to life within such a small substance.
Did you have the chance to exchange ideas with Giulia Cenci during the project? How did knowing that another artist was working in the same context influence your artistic approach?
Unfortunatly, my short stay didn’t allow for deep conversations with Giulia. However, I know her sculptures are powerful and beautiful. I’m thrilled to be working on this project with such a remarkable artist like Giulia, and I am very excited to see what she will show here. Although our approaches are very different, they will certainly be interesting in penetrating the theme of this place and wine, so I have no doubt that we will create a wonderful relationship that is different but connected.
What materials or techniques did you choose for your site-specific work, and why?
I chose video language as it is suitable for conveying implicit content, and I intend to approach the entire room in Castelgiocondo, where traces of time and beauty remain, as a frame for my video screen. To achieve this, I plan to display the video on an LED screen under natural light conditions, without darkening the room. Furthermore, I’m collaborating with a musician to create a soundscape that will intuitively resonate with the audience, evoking abstract imagery to reach a deeper, more emotional part of the self.
The Tuscan landscape is rich in history and tradition. How did you engage with this cultural context, and how did it shape your work?
Despite my limited time on location, I wanted to immerse myself in every aspect of this place—both visible and intangible—through all my senses. For example, I woke up before sunrise, ran and walked through the tranquil vineyards, felt the sun rising over the landscape, and took a moment to face this unfamiliar land one-on-one.
Waking up early and arriving at the studio to watch the sunrise is my favorite daily ritual. It was also a way to reaffirm a simple yet profound realization—that CastelGiocondo and Seoul are connected by the same sun.
Moreover, the elegance and warmth of the people I met here, shaped by a rich cultural heritage, along with the long-standing tradition of trusting and supporting the arts, instilled in me a deep sense of pride as an artist and gave me the strength to realize my vision.
Contemporary art plays an increasingly important role in the debate on sustainability and the future of the planet. How do you think your work can contribute to this conversation?
To me, art is both a vocation and a way of life that allows me to learn about myself and the world. That is why my personal crises and social and environmental crises are always closely connected, and the questions that arise at that point naturally become my work. Through my work, I come to understand the roots of my life’s crises, and as I express them, I realize that my understanding of myself and this world extends only as far as my work reaches. And then I often gain the strength to take another step forward. That is probably why behind the radiant beauty of art, there is darkness such as sadness, anxiety, crisis, and death. Isn’t art a living organism that sprouts under the dark ground but grows towards the sunlight above? This work process always gives me great learning and inspiration, and I am truly grateful that I can do this work and be alive. If my experience can reach the inner selves of the audience even a little, I think that would be a way for my artistic practice to contribute to society.
You’ve worked in very different contexts, from South Korea to Europe. How does this international experience influence your interpretation of the relationship between humans and the environment?
Exploring how my limited experiences connect to the larger world—specifically, the organic relationship between the part and the whole—has likely been my enduring practice. In that regard, I ponder how to weave the subtle experiences of time, place, and people here into my work to inspire the audience to reflect on the broader world. In this process, I recognize both similarities and differences between my hometown and other cultures, but it is the sense of universality and commonality that I feel more strongly than the distinctions
In an era where movement and connection occur simultaneously online and offline, aren’t we just all earthlings? Nevertheless, cultural differences often emerge in the varied reactions of audiences to my work. In that sense, the opportunity to engage with a diverse audience beyond national boundaries is a thrilling chance to expand an artist’s spectrum.
Which artists, movements, or philosophies have most influenced your approach to artistic creation?
I learn about the possibilities of the studio through William Kentridge, who demonstrates how an artist can unfold a vast and rich narrative within a small studio space. The boundless freedom of artistic work, which I learn from my respected teacher Rosemarie Trockel, always gives me courage to move forward, no matter what. Among Korean artists, I learn from sculptor and mother Jeong Seo-young the strength to create unique art through delicate and clear form, without being captured by the theme of femininity within Korea’s patriarchal structure. Furthermore, I embrace the Buddhist concept of reincarnation, which views existence as a vast, interconnected continuum beyond a single lifetime. I think this naturally connects with my desire to have a broader and deeper worldview and artistic philosophy.
Your work is often described as poetic and conceptual. How do you find the balance between the idea and its material realization?
My work begins with stumbling upon small, seemingly insignificant things—objects, situations, emotions. I trace why they stopped me, drew me in, through drawing. This is a process of deciphering my relationship with the world. Visually expressing inexplicable attractions makes the work abstract, metaphorical, and poetic. Writing during my process—unfinished sentences, artist notes—becomes poetry. Capturing constant change aligns with poetry’s radicalness and flexibility, feeling conceptually implicit. I connect materials’ properties with my inner senses through observation and experimentation, merging external and internal understanding to build a material world as my work reflecting my inner self.
How do you choose the locations for your site-specific works? What do you look for in a context to feel inspired?
Just as I journey from the reality of Seoul to this surreal place of art to create my work, I wanted to design the experience so that the audience, reaching the end of their path from the outside world into the timeless space of the castle, would encounter a screen—like a window opening into the world of wine. I hope that all the traces of time and beauty within the old room will connect with my work and be seen as one piece. In other words, as if the very presence here completes the final stage of my working process, I hope that the world I tried to capture can approach the audience more persuasively within the framework of this space. So that the audience can intuitively feel this place itself as the basis and frame of my work.
In this Tuscan experience with Frescobaldi, was there something that particularly surprised you or that you didn’t expect to happen?
Many things exceeded my expectations, but to mention just a few casually, I was truly amazed when I tasted Laudemio olive oil at my first meal upon arriving in Castelgiocondo. Discovering the extraordinary flavor of olive oil was an eye-opening experience. Since then, I’ve become quite addicted to this oil, savoring a spoonful of Tuscany every early morning in Seoul. The wines I tasted here were also incredible, but unfortunately, I couldn’t drink much due to my low alcohol tolerance. I’ve always heard about the food culture here, but experiencing it firsthand has had a profound impact on my own eating habits. These positive changes have been a boost to my work.
After this experience with Frescobaldi, what are the next projects or themes you’d like to explore in your artistic future?
I am very excited to see what answer I can give to this question. Perhaps it will only become vaguely clear after the work is completed, meticulously installed to take root in the site, opened to warmly greet the audience, and their feedback is heard, and after I arrive back in Seoul after a long flight and start the next work in my studio. For now, I want to dedicate and devote my heart and body to this work so that I can give a good answer later.
LINK
https://www.parksunmin.com/
