ikkibawiKrrr is a visual research band founded in 2021 with the current members being gyeol Ko, Jungwon Kim, and Jieun Cho. ikkibawiKrrr explores the connection between plants, natural phenomena, humanity, and ecology. ikkibawiKrrr is a combination of ‘ikki’ meaning moss and ‘bawi’ meaning rock, representing "moss rock," and ‘Krrr’ is an onomatopoeic term. Moss adapts in the boundary layer of air and soil and expands its world depending on its surroundings. ikkibawiKrrr aims to apply the way moss survives to their projects and attitudes, studying the tropics, seaweeds, and collaborating with farmers. The concept of living on its own terms, becoming part of the movement and expanding the boundary layer, is crucial for ikkibawiKrrr.

ikkibawiKrrr explores the broader concept of "migration," going beyond the human socio-political context and delving into the temporality of plants, communities, and  all inhabitants of the Earth. Major exhibitions by ikkibawiKrrr include the 14th Gwangju Biennale: Soft and Weak like Water (Gwangju, 2023), documenta 15 (Kassel, Germany, 2022), Running Underground (Elephant Space, Seoul, 2022), Resbakan: Solidarity Event Lumbung FILM (UP Film Institute, University of the Philippines, Diliman, Quezon City, 2022), and Suwon Public Art City Urban Im;pulse Art Im;pulse (Suwon Culture Foundation, 2021), among others.

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Filed under: film, installations, music, performance

¹ Gathering Moss (이끼와 함께), Robin Wall Kimmerer
2003

Let’s start our conversation with your collective choice of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, Gathering Moss. You mentioned over email that the title, when translated into Korean, reads as With Moss instead. Though the book draws from the author’s context of North America, moss is everywhere. Could all of you share a little more about what you enjoyed about the book? In particular, it would be great to hear if there were specific chapters or quotes from the book that have moved the way you approach working as ikkibawiKrrr now.

There's a phrase that says moss is a very small being that changes the air and soil on the surface. We found this very impressive. We read several books related to plants while working. This includes the book Pflanzenjäger by Kej Hielscher, which shows how many species of plants were hunted and forcibly moved from their native habitats due to human greed during the colonial era.

Trees and plants are easier to objectify than animals. The attitude and approach in Gathering Moss influenced us. It reminded us of the fact that art is an attitude and a practice that can be accomplished gradually through small acts. We hope we embody this in our work.

I’d like to spend some time discussing the works you presented as part of documenta 15. Tropical Story is a haunting filmic collage of various sites across Micronesia, Indonesia and Jeju Island that saw fierce fighting at the height of World War II. In order to make horrific stories feel more immediate or urgent, artists sometimes tap into visual strategies that prioritise realism or its consequences on a human community. Instead, Tropical Story centres lush, overgrown, and unruly environments. Could you tell us a bit more about this approach and why you decided to unearth the ghosts of war through nature’s perspective?

Before starting our work, we studied historical facts and sociological perspectives with the scholar Cho Sung-yoon, an honorary professor at Jeju National University. Most of the available data regarding Koreans who were forcibly mobilised during that time can only be found in Japanese labour mobilization statistics, and there is a lack of direct information from Korea itself. This is partly due to the imbalanced power relations that defined the colonial era.

We wanted to explore those traces, but when we visited the actual locations, only ruins and nature remained. We embraced those scenes as they were, and they became the main focus of our work. The scenes in the video work include footage that was filmed in Guam and Jeju Island, and they can also be connected to the current state of war. Though the video examines stories from the past, we haven’t actually moved away from them fully as they still reflect the current military situation in the Pacific Islands, Okinawa, Jeju Island, and Taiwan. Through the video’s environmental focus, we hope that the historical stories of migration and forced mobilisation can take on a sense of contemporary relevance.

² Tropical Story, ikkibawiKrrr
2022, Installation view at Museum of Natural History Ottoneum

³  Tropical Story, ikkibawiKrrr
2022, Installation view at Museum of Natural History Ottoneum

⁴ Ganggangsullae (강강술래) performance

The other work that was presented as part of documenta 15 was Seaweed Story. The work spotlights the haenyeo of Jeju Island as their song is the central thread upon which the video is strung together. Seaweed Story is one example of your wider interest in that which is intangible, and this perhaps also ties into the fact that ganggangsullae was one of the reference points that you all picked out for this conversation as well. Could you walk us through the process of how you approached documenting the undocumented, and some of the tensions or contradictions that you encountered when doing so?

There are many advantages to using documentaries as a way of narrating reality. The haenyeo have received a lot of attention in the fields of documentary photography and video because of they are socioculturally unique. Given this context, we chose to focus on their songs instead with Seaweed Story. Through the haenyeo’s songs and the video, we wanted to be able to reveal the time they lived among the unique rocks of Jeju Island. Because they breathe deeply in the water, we think that those breaths are also revealed in the songs they sing.

In addition, we produced Seaweed Story as a song that comforts the history and time─the wounds and suffering of the island that were revealed in Tropical Story. As you mentioned, we are always interested in community dances such as ganggangsullae, although Seaweed Story features song and not dance.

Documentaries usually deal with how hard life is for sea women divers and how painful their lives are. However, we were more interested in the fun and unique experiences they've had. This is not revealed in our video work, but when we met the haenyeo, we asked them about the waves and winds of the ocean they experienced, and the relationships between turtles and dolphins. This content was instead shared in workshops with children in Kassel and elsewhere.

Through the haenyeo’s songs and the video, we wanted to be able to reveal the time they lived among the unique rocks of Jeju Island. Because they breathe deeply in the water, we think that those breaths are also revealed in the songs they sing.

⁵ Seaweed Story, ikkibawiKrrr
2022, Installation view at Museum of Natural History Ottoneum

⁶ Seaweed Story, ikkibawiKrrr
2022, Installation view at Museum of Natural History Ottoneum

You’ve noted elsewhere that instead of being referred to as an artist collective, the three of you think of yourselves as a “visual research band”. This term is so interdisciplinary, and brings to mind associations of synaesthesia. Tell me more about why you prefer being referred to in this way, and the larger role of music within your own collective practice.

We used the term ‘visual research band’ so as to not to be boring. As you say, we like existing at the intersection of different disciplines. We have a desire to make art that does not exist only as art. We want to incorporate cultural and social aspects, cartoons, songs, and all sorts of media into our work. This means that we move like a band.

Sometimes we collaborate with musicians, even though we don't produce music. We think that music plays a major role in our communities. Music and dance provide an outlet for the people that we work with to express themselves, and sometimes we learn something from music. For example, Seaweed Story features a song by the Hado Haenyeo Choir. We felt and learned about the time and space the haenyeo lived in through their song and their conductor-composer’s, Seungchul Bang, attitude. It implied not only their expressions, but also their speech, attitudes, and more.

We have a desire to make art that does not exist only as art. We want to incorporate cultural and social aspects, cartoons, songs, and all sorts of media into our work.

⁷ Small Museum of Art, Park Chan-kyong
2019, Installation view at MMCA

Another work you selected for our conversation was Park Chan-kyong's Small Museum of Art. First presented at the artist’s solo presentation at MMCA in 2019, it re-presents works by other artists in a maze-like configuration. In doing so, it also asks visitors to consider the role and authority of museums in formalising the way we understand the history of art. In many ways, the work you do does not always sit comfortably within the museum context either. Though your works may be presented in museum spaces, it also feels like your work can be shown in many different contexts. How have you approached your collective relationship to museum spaces—are they inadequate spaces of display, or conduits that enable new encounters?

mixrice's activities exist mainly outside of the white cube, and may more commonly be found on the street. For us, it is still difficult to do experimental work within the space of the museum. Yet, we still want to connect artworks that we showcase in the museum to the fields outside. When we exhibit at the museum, we think of these works as a trace of something that first happened in the field—moments that happened beyond the museum’s walls. In that sense, the museum becomes a place of empathy and sharing.

Park Chan-kyong’s Small Museum of Art showed us how art museums and art in Korea could possibly exist beyond the archetypes that have been set by traditional Western art museums. Furthermore, the idea of being present in the here and now is important to us. In our work, we always try to think about the here and now, in addition to the specific contexts that we may find ourselves in.

⁸ Seaweed Story, ikkibawiKrrr
2022


⁹ Seaweed Story, ikkibawiKrrr
2022

In recent months, you’ve spent some time travelling and engaging with other artists and artist-collectives (for example, gudskul in Jakarta, Indonesia). Particularly coming off the end of documenta 15, how have these moments expanded or coloured the way all of you approach making work together?

There is a word in Indonesian called nongkrong, which may be translated to "let's kill time together” in Korean. Our Indonesian friends often used this word. This culture of nongkrong, or of spending time together, can also be found in Korean culture. Jieun remembers how this was expressed in Korea during the '90s. Senior artists and colleagues would run into each other in museum, on the streets, in stalls, in parks, or whenever they were free to do nongkrong. When they gathered together, they talked about art, about society, and about what was possible for them.

However, everything moves with efficiency and consumption today. It has made nongkrong impossible in contemporary Korean society. People find themselves within a structure that makes hanging out difficult. They only see each other if they have meetings or if they are working with one another. We have spoken about the importance of nongkrong many times, and now that documenta 15 is over, we continue to practice this by communicating with the friends we met there.

To end, I’d like to discuss the films you curated for The One Minutes. I was struck by this line in the trailer: “We focus on plants revealing their presence by themselves”. As you continue to make more work that examines the nuances of ecology, do you feel like you’re endeavouring to make works where the human element decreases so much that the works themselves aspire towards becoming increasingly non-human?

We don't believe in a single direction, and our thematic interests always change. There are moments where we are critical of humans, while there are also other times where we focus on ecological beings. The works curated for The One Minutes have a stronger emphasis on plants. When observing landscapes filled with plants, it can feel as if they reveal their presence to us like extraterrestrial beings.

The months of July and August in Korea are overflowing with lushness. We use the expression ‘overflowing’ to describe scenarios where plants flourish in places that are untouched by human hands. Within these ruins, we are also witnessing the free ecosystem of plants and animals covering the ruins. It seems that there is a growing number of people who believe that the human world should be diminished these days. We have lived in a world that has been too expansive until now.

We don't believe in a single direction, and our thematic interests always change. There are moments where we are critical of humans, while there are also other times where we focus on ecological beings.