Hyon Gyon and The Factory
Shin Gallery
presents
Hyon Gyon and The Factory
All that glitters is not gold. No truer statement embodies the city that glows hot with lurid Broadway lights, flirts with the night in haughty, come-hither neon hues, and glimmers at its very seams with the gaping, glass eyes of monolithic, gridiron walls. Hyon Gyon, a transplant to New York soil, manifests this adage into her new series, reproducing a remarkable physical facsimile with a resplendent body of work coated in gold leaf and burgeoned with pops with vivid fabric figurations.
The show’s title nods to Andy Warhol’s infamous Silver Factory, which yielded astounding and singularly iconic work at a dizzyingly manufactured pace. Hyon Gyon’s three-month residency in chashama’s Harlem studio space has mirrored a similar outpour of auspicious creativity, bringing about her most socially critical work to date. The textured, time-abraded walls that previously housed a beer distillery are now adorned with panels of gold-plaque canvas, reflecting an opulent interior to the unfocused eye. Upon closer inspection, the work is emblazoned with detailed, gilded drawings and insignia, evoking an impressive narrative that is reminiscent of the pictography in cave paintings or hieroglyphics. This is her design. Hyon Gyon is capturing present events and recording them as history. Plastered in a veil of gold, her work is a pointed jab at our modern, pecuniary sensibilities, which often times blinds the resolve for basic integrity.
In Hyon Gyon’s newest work, she also casts a light on sexual politics by depicting undesignated gendered figures and compounding phallic outlines with a female silhouette. Among the gold, she splays broad strokes of black and red that intimate passion and vivacity, yet murmurs with an undulating voice of violence and unnerving restlessness. The bedraggled and disembodied head of a Barbie is mounted among Hyon Gyon’s turbulent subjects, underlining a derisive scrutiny towards the physically unattainable and a call for speculation of a society that keenly emphasizes an exterior that is glossed to perfection.
presents
Hyon Gyon and The Factory
October 23 - October 27, 2015
Gallery hours: 10:30am - 6:30pm
Gallery hours: 10:30am - 6:30pm
461 West 126th Street
New York, NY 10027All that glitters is not gold. No truer statement embodies the city that glows hot with lurid Broadway lights, flirts with the night in haughty, come-hither neon hues, and glimmers at its very seams with the gaping, glass eyes of monolithic, gridiron walls. Hyon Gyon, a transplant to New York soil, manifests this adage into her new series, reproducing a remarkable physical facsimile with a resplendent body of work coated in gold leaf and burgeoned with pops with vivid fabric figurations.
The show’s title nods to Andy Warhol’s infamous Silver Factory, which yielded astounding and singularly iconic work at a dizzyingly manufactured pace. Hyon Gyon’s three-month residency in chashama’s Harlem studio space has mirrored a similar outpour of auspicious creativity, bringing about her most socially critical work to date. The textured, time-abraded walls that previously housed a beer distillery are now adorned with panels of gold-plaque canvas, reflecting an opulent interior to the unfocused eye. Upon closer inspection, the work is emblazoned with detailed, gilded drawings and insignia, evoking an impressive narrative that is reminiscent of the pictography in cave paintings or hieroglyphics. This is her design. Hyon Gyon is capturing present events and recording them as history. Plastered in a veil of gold, her work is a pointed jab at our modern, pecuniary sensibilities, which often times blinds the resolve for basic integrity.
In Hyon Gyon’s newest work, she also casts a light on sexual politics by depicting undesignated gendered figures and compounding phallic outlines with a female silhouette. Among the gold, she splays broad strokes of black and red that intimate passion and vivacity, yet murmurs with an undulating voice of violence and unnerving restlessness. The bedraggled and disembodied head of a Barbie is mounted among Hyon Gyon’s turbulent subjects, underlining a derisive scrutiny towards the physically unattainable and a call for speculation of a society that keenly emphasizes an exterior that is glossed to perfection.
