Am I Really Me?

‘Self Portrait’, Exhibition photo from GIAF (Gangneung International Art Festival) 22.11.04 - 12.04, Photographer Kim, Yo-han (@koreaimg)

‘Self Portrait, digital self’

This happened in 2020, and I created these pieces in 2022-2023.

I fractured into the digital world. My scattered face resembles the reflection I see in the mirror. My face was the only evidence of my existence during the COVID era. In my experience, painters paint their own face because they struggle with their lacking existence in the world. They should see themselves in the canvas. I can’t recall what my facial expression was back then. I didn’t hear my heartbeat because I simply didn’t pay attention in my actual body but a digital one. I painted my self portrait painting because it happened to be waving.

Leaving my wavering self behind, I was focused on creating a performance instead. I wore my Apple Watch on my wrist while painting, drawing, working out and sleeping. My paintings became digital images, and my movements were also translated into the digital realm. The images were predominantly pixelated because I relied on my Instagram account to showcase my work. At times, I thought it was pretty cool. I sold my pieces through Instagram, which brought me a larger audience for a while. However, I eventually realized that this intangible fame was an odd trade-off between the easy rewards of synapses firing in my brain and the compromised quality of my work. I was pleased to receive some feedback, but it didn’t truly affect my artistic practice.

Even before I questioned this system, I found a great sublimation—perhaps I should call it self-distraction—in activities like surfing, body obsession, health obsession, and capturing Instagrammable moments to feel a sense of connection with the world. Now, though, it seems like many people developed a misguided relationship with social media during the COVID period. I connected my body to digital wearable technology. I constantly DMed others and reacted to their stories. My watch tracked my surfing sessions from morning to evening, monitored how many calories I burned at the gym, and even recorded how long I spent having fun at the nightclub.

I felt an urgent need to track every workout, fearing I might miss out on capturing captivating images, visiting inspiring places, or attending exhibitions during the isolation of COVID. While many struggled to pursue their passions during that turbulent time, I found myself navigating a virtual lifestyle, trying to connect in a world that felt increasingly disconnected. I found myself and others within this digital record. All the reactions I received made it seem like everything was okay. 

I surfed with my wearable watch, and went, “Oh, I am(or was) here.” I felt relieved, and this digital connection enriched my otherwise mediocre artistic life. It helped me pinpoint where I was. I’ve never been physically inexistent. And even though this digital world made me feel very much existential I still felt impossibly inexistent. Perhaps what I wanted to heard from this machine was:
“I see you.”
I saw myself reflected through them. Maybe it’s more accurate to say, “I see my tracking, so I know I am working hard and doing something. This world looks doomed. Everything feels daunting. But look at me! I’m trying to connect with my body. I am moving. I am alive! This data record shows that.”

Yet I question myself: Was that really me? Was I there? The GPS data, live wave data, and heart rate data made me feel like I existed somewhere for sure. But is it really what you want to see? No. It was merely data. So I stopped using all the applications and social media. 

It’s not just my face. I painted my face while imagining surfing in the ocean and cut the painting into pieces to create a graph. I made the wave data charts with my face and marked the actual wave data recorded by my smartwatch. It is my face. A fractured face. But still, I don’t know if it truly is my face.

I didn't realised that this picture would be the last photo that featuring all three self-portraits at that time. My photographer friend Yong-soo Sim (@yongsoosim) visited my studio and this has taken for another reason.