21 may 2025, Flor Linckens
Last chance: the distorted reality of Sangha Yoon
Until 31 May, Namuso Gallery in The Hague presents 'The Castle in the Mirror', the first European solo exhibition by South Korean artist Sangha Yoon. His work explores the fluid interplay between memory, dream and reality. Not as a form of escape, but as a way of navigating an increasingly elusive world. At the same time, the artist probes the inherent subjectivity of perception.
Yoon’s process is intuitive and driven by material. He rarely begins with a fixed plan. More often, chance determines the direction his work takes. This creates space for distortion, for the provisional, for meanings that emerge only during the making. That openness is tangible: his work breathes unpredictability. His paintings and drawings are not finished narratives, but rather fragments of something that is still in motion.
At Namuso Gallery, Yoon presents a series of works ranging from large and expressive to small and introspective. What connects them is a disquieting dreaminess. A sense that something is simmering just beneath the surface, without ever being made explicit. His practice navigates the space between dream and reality, between childlike wonder and existential confusion. In that process, the artist does not seek resolution, but rather a workable balance.
Yoon: “For me, fantasy is not a place where things coexist harmoniously, but a place where they intrude upon each other. I see it not as mere ideal beauty, but as the disorderly entanglement of reality, ithin fantasy and fantasy within reality. They are so mixed up that they cannot be distinguished, creating imperfection. And that imperfection makes us uncomfortable."
That imperfection returns in the physicality of the work. His canvases are layered with paint, marked by rough textures, scratches and dark undertones. Some works feature unsettling framings, such as extreme close-ups of a neck and chin, marked by scars and coarse pigment. In one, a dead bird protrudes from a figure’s mouth; in another, clenched teeth are shown in a tense, almost threatening posture. The viewer is brought so close that there is no room for distance or reflection. The image is immediate, visceral and oppressive.
It stands in stark contrast to the playful, brightly coloured characters that appear elsewhere in his work. In "Typhoon in the House", two people are shown chatting casually, each holding a steaming cup of coffee. One of them cradles a cat. Why then does the title suggest a tropical cyclone? In "Where is My Old Castle", a figure wearing a conical hat holds a paper boat, a gesture that hints at childlike imagination but also at survival: something fragile that keeps floating, despite everything.
Het contrast tussen licht en donker, grimmig en vrolijk zet je als kijker regelmatig op het verkeerde been, soms binnen eenzelfde werk. Het is niet altijd duidelijk of je naar kinderen of volwassenen kijkt, of misschien naar kinderen die geconfronteerd worden met een harde, volwassen wereld. Zijn het eigenlijk wel mensen? Of hybride wezens of geesten? Bevind je je in een droom, een herinnering, iemands angstbeeld? Titels als ‘Otaku’ verwijzen bovendien naar een Japans leenwoord dat fandomcultuur vangt: mensen die geobsedeerd zijn door bijvoorbeeld anime, manga, games of technologie. Tegelijkertijd een vorm van escapisme en een manier van (hyper)identificatie binnen een veilige subcultuur. The contrast between light and dark, between the grim and the cheerful, continually throws the viewer off balance, sometimes within a single work. It is often unclear whether we are looking at children or adults, or perhaps at children confronted with an adult world. Are they even people? Or hybrid creatures, animals, ghosts? Are we witnessing a dream, a memory, someone's specific fear? Titles such as "Otaku" refer to a Japanese loanword, associated with obsessive fandom culture. People who are deeply immersed in topics like anime, manga, games or technology. To them, it presents both a form of escapism and a means of (hyper)identification within a sheltered subculture.
The exhibition text describes Yoon’s work as "an extension of reality, a mirror reflecting buried emotions, desires, and subconscious fears." The mirror in the title does not merely reflect, but distorts.
A standout piece in the show is the large-scale painting "A Secret Festival" (2024). It depicts a crowd of figures, gathered in what at first seems like a festive scene: vivid colours, masks, extravagant clothing and a backdrop full of movement. Yet the image subtly grates. The composition is densely packed; the figures crowd each other, but no one seems to make eye contact. The lack of perspective renders the scene more like a theatrical set than a lived moment. Notably, Yoon avoids centrality: there is no main character, no guiding narrative. The party is present, but never overtly joyful. The "secret" in the title might just as well refer to what is left unseen: the inner lives of the characters, the reason they are gathered, or what came before. Their stories are withheld. As a result, the work remains open. Not as aimless mystery, but as an invitation to projection. The viewer is free to interpret, but receives no confirmation.
Yet at the top of the painting, casually painted in, is the line “strange village, suspicious people”, a dissonant detail that casts the entire composition in a different light. What initially seemed harmless suddenly takes on a more ambiguous, even unsettling tone. Yoon plays with the ambiguity of memory. The painting might show a school play, a local celebration, a fever dream, or a recollection of a moment you were present for, but never truly a part of. With this text fragment, Yoon offers a vague sense of suspicion: what exactly is happening here, and what are we missing?
Drawings like "House in a Room" (2024) reveal another side of Yoon’s practice. In black and white, using pencil, he constructs a grid of rooms, windows, doorways and obscure details. Here, his fascination with architecture, inner spaces and mental structures becomes apparent. The title of the exhibition, 'The Castle in the Mirror', resonates here as well: spaces and corridors that are rarely accessible, like memories that hover just out of reach, or imagined safe havens that may never have existed in real life.
Together, Yoon’s paintings, drawings and sculptural elements create a poetic universe in which the viewer is invited not just to look, but to remember, to feel and to lose themselves.
Sangha Yoon (1995) studied at Chosun University in Gwangju, where he earned his BA in Contemporary Plastic Media in 2020. In 2019, he was a resident at the Young Artist Center of the Gwangju Museum of Art. His work has been shown at fairs such as Art Busan and Art Jakarta and is part of the public collections of the Seoul Museum of Art and the Gwangju Museum of Art.
