AYOUNG YU / AYDO STUDIO

 A young Yu is a Korean-American artist based in New York. She received her MFA in Visual Arts from Columbia University and BFA in Painting from Rhode Island School of Design. She was awarded Artist In the Market (AIM) Fellowship by the Bronx Museum of Arts, Gold Prize by the AHL-T&W Foundation, the Individual Artist Fellowship by the MidAtlantic Foundation of Arts, and was nominated for the Rema Hort Mann Foundation’s Emerging Artist Grant. Her work was also featured in the Christie’s Educational annual journal. She has been exhibited at venues such as Fredric Snitzer Gallery, LeRoy Neiman Gallery, Time Square Space, Jewish Museum, and Vermont Studio Center.

Hi A Young! Thanks for joining me for Mint Tea. To begin, what’s your favorite tea?

I like matcha, Earl Grey, chamomile. Those are usually my preferences.

Could you tell me about your background and your practice?

I'm Korean American. I was born in Korea, in Seoul, and then I moved to New Jersey with my family in 1994. I originally have a background in painting. I graduated with a BFA in painting from RISD, and then within the five years between RISD and Columbia, I started to get more into installation, performance work, and that's kind of where I am now. I am interested in creating spaces around rituals, specifically Korean shamanic rituals that I reimagine, and so the installations I think of as these huge environments that can be activated as an alternative ritual shrine space. In terms of performance, I think of them also as ways to reactivate and rethink about these sorts of rituals. And so I collaborate a lot with folk dancers, and I perform myself, and then they all kind of get translated into a larger narrative film at the end.

I am the most familiar with your performance and installation work. Can you talk about how and why you choose to work with the media that you do?

Yeah, I think it's definitely project-based, but I think my research and my interest, even on a personal level, is very much on these spiritual practices and thinking about how it relates to ancestry, my identity. I just feel like for me, performance, installation, and film, they're the mediums that give me the most, in terms of being able to expand the research into multiple different layers and creating a space, and then bringing bodies into the space, and what does that mean? And then there’s ways to think about how that sort of ephemeral experience lives on. So, I think that because of my specific research and area of interest, that sort of medium makes most sense. I still think that I am painting in some ways. I feel like I consider especially the installations to be an extension of my painting practice. When I graduated from RISD, I did go through a couple of years where I was making oil on canvas work, and there was something about it that, for me, felt a little bit limiting. And I think that when I started to create these big immersive environments and put bodies into the picture, I think it just kind of all came together. But I do still think that the emphasis I put on composition, surface, color; there are a lot of elements there that even just on a formal level, I think still feels to me like painting.

I think that first installation was in my parents’ basement. It was sort of this thing where we were moving and that whole house was going to get demolished anyway. I kind of got lucky in that way. At the time, I didn't actually necessarily think that I was going to make this big expansive installation. I thought I was actually going to create weird little spaces and slots for paintings, and then I think I started making it and it just kind of grew and grew. And I realized, “Oh, this is actually the work that I feel the most connected to.” Because I feel like even in the paintings I made, I was always trying to create my own spaces, and I was still trying to think about how I can fit in like rituals, which are so much like a visceral, bodily experience even. So then when I started to, like, build the space and put myself in it, I think that's kind of when it really came together for me. But yeah, it all started in my parents’ basement in this weird house in the suburbs of New Jersey, that at some point was gonna get demolished.

What is your creative process like? Do you think about building the immersive environment first or do you start by choreographing your movement?

The installation definitely precedes the choreography. I will usually think about specifically what ritual that I want to focus on. And then we'll build out an installation that is sort of in response to that. For example, the installation that I created at Columbia had to do with jesa, and had a lot to do with this idea of communicating with your ancestors with food. That became a predominant driving force between behind that installation. Then I made another one last year that was centered around reimagining funerary rites and rituals around grief. So for that, there were a lot of materials that allude for me to loss, there was a lot of land, land that's lost, thinking about water as a channel between this world and the spiritual realm. I feel like it very much like varies, depending on what I'm thinking about. And then after I make the installation, I'll sort of sit there and, I feel like there's almost this kind of static, meditative period where I’ll think about performance and what makes sense, do I bring in other performers into this space? But a lot of it is also quite intuitive, I think.

Did your family do a lot of these rituals, like 제사 (jesa) ?

So my grandma had a career as a folk dancer, which is also very much rooted in shamanic practices. And jesa for her was so important, because the way that she thought about it is that because especially for me and my brother, because we were born in Korea, but we came here when we were so young, for her it was so important that we like kept a connection to our ancestry. And that is a lot of what jesa is, it's thinking about people in your family from the past, but it's also thinking about your ancestry and honoring them, and it’s literally, like, dining with them. That was definitely something that I grew up with, and it's definitely interesting thinking about how these rituals live on, and if I am to continue these rituals, what that would look like? Because it would very much look different than the way that my grandma would practice it, of course, because she'd grown up in Korea, and so I have a very different relationship to Korea than she does. Yeah, it was definitely a big part of my upbringing.

I distinctly remember seeing kimchi, japchae, and other food in your works like “Trace My Body With Traces of My Body,” and it’s fascinating to me how they add both cultural context and specific textures to your installation. How did this idea start?

Yeah, in that installation, I was thinking a lot about food. I wanted food to be part of the architecture, as well as the performance. So I like this idea of food, not just being this thing that you consume, but it's like, holding up the walls, or it's literally permeating your entire experience of space and also is embedded into the space. I also feel like with Korean food, in particular, it has such a strong sense of smell and it just kind of does overtake your senses, which I thought was an important part to bring into this space. So I think for me, it served like a conceptual purpose, but also on a visual level, I thought it just it added a richness in terms of just activating your senses. It's super rich in color and texture. Especially the performance for that piece, it was very much a visceral response to the actual space. Having these materials that were so charged, it sort of helped the performance element as well.

What are some of your favorite textures to work with?

Right now, I'm drawn to textures that have an allusion to land. So a lot of soil, plants, sand. Also, water, I think about its sort of regenerative properties, and so I feel like water has been coming up a lot into the work. But it I feel like it kind of changes, every project.

I often notice pearls in your work. What do they mean to you?

Just visually, they're really alluring. I was working on a project that's sort of more long term that has to do with pearl divers – that’s something that my grandma's side has a relationship to. So there's that sort of connection for me. I think that even though there is a lot of research that goes into these rituals, a lot of it also has to do with my relationship with my grandma and thinking about maternal lineage. So pearls come up as a symbol for me, a symbol of my relationship to her. But yeah, they're also a very seductive material.

Can you talk about any symbols or imagery that you like to incorporate?

I think about a lot of the raw materials I use as symbolic. So, in a previous performance, I thought about soil as a symbol for burials, but also rebirth. I think a lot about plants in the same kind of way as this thing that is also very beautiful, but there’s decay, and its relationship to decay, and time. I try to be mindful about the specific materials that I use, because I feel like they hold a lot of meaning.

What projects are you working on right now?

So many projects. Right now, I feel like most of my work has to do with a series of collaborative projects that I’m working on with another artist, Nicholas Oh. We're working right now on a large film that we've pretty much been filming since last year. It takes place in a lot of different locations. We are going to conclude filming in January, when we're going to film in Hawaii. I feel like that’s mostly where my studio practice is sort of centered at right now.

How did your art collective, Aydo Studio, begin?

Well, Nicholas and I went on a road trip last June, and sort of last minute we were like, “Whoa, why don't we do a project on the road, I feel like it would be a good way to kind of just pass time as well.” And so we came up with this idea about burying these moon jar shaped urns, into the various parts of the American landscape, specifically national parks, and thinking about what that means, especially during the height of COVID. When you're on the road, you have so much time to converse, so we thought, why don't we expand this into a film or a series of videos. Then we got into this residency called Catwalk Residency when we got back. We did that residency in August, and we started filming for the first time and making costumes and sets and installations, and I think it just kind of organically grew. I think at a certain point, probably right before we went to Korea, we decided maybe this might be something longer term and serious. At that point, we just needed a name. It's the initials of both of our Korean names.

Could you tell me more about your collaborative process with the artist Nicholas Oh? Is there a specific area or task that you are in charge of? How did you two come up with ideas for specific scenes in your film together?

I think it definitely goes back and forth. We start with brainstorming ideas in terms of where specifically the project should go and what we're exploring. Right now, the film is called “Blood Memory.” And blood memory is actually a term that's used to recall the memories of your ancestors. It has a lot of things to do with diaspora, generational trauma, that sort of angle that we're thinking of. So a lot of our practice is just talking through the project, what makes sense to make, where it makes sense for film, to serve this central idea. On a day to day, right now, we're working a lot in ceramics, because we're making these big urns. That's Nick's area of expertise, who takes the lead, because that's a technical skill that I don't have. But we try to sort of divide up as equally as possible.

I know that several of your performances were staged in the Korean DMZ. Can you talk about the importance of the locations that Aydo Studio has performed in and why you chose them?

I think for DMZ, a lot of it was that we had the opportunity to film there, which was really special. The DP that I was connected to, he's based in Korea, and I originally presented him with this idea of wanting to shoot in the mountains, and I wanted some more raw landscape. He was actually like, “I think, actually, the Korean DMZ would actually be more suitable.” I feel like there is this idea about the DMZ, which is somewhat sensationalized, where it's an extremely dangerous, intense environment. But if you go there, it's also a natural sanctuary, so there's a lot of beauty in the land. But of course, in terms of meaning, when you're thinking about ancestors, it's literally the border between North and South Korea. For me, personally, my entire paternal lineage is in North Korea. When you're thinking about ancestry and reconnection to ancestry, it just felt like such a potent land. And I feel like for that reason, the DMZ was such a special opportunity. But other locations, it's a mixture of accessibility, like a lot of the other scenes that we shot, we're at the Hudson Valley, because we happen to do an artist's residency there. But we also tried to do a lot of research on the land itself. So in the Hudson Valley, we were thinking a lot about, what does it mean to reference these really traditional rituals on American land? Thinking about these rituals through a diasporic lens, and what that sort of means. So it kind of varies based on where we are.

What kind of emotions do you channel while you perform? In the entire span of your performance, when do you feel the most vulnerable or powerful?

I think power and vulnerability definitely go hand in hand. I think I draw from personal experience. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about grief and rebirth. And longing, I feel like, is a big part of where my head is. Then, because a lot of these are reimagined rituals, that brings up certain emotions, like conflicted emotions about this. And that ties into learning, where you are trying to sort of preserve something that is so sacred, but at the same time, almost by necessity, you can't preserve it the same way. But you also want to carry it on, so that is its own feeling. I feel like a lot of that comes in the writing and meditative period before performance. I feel like there is such a relationship to trauma there, like personal trauma, collective trauma, it definitely all comes out.

But during the moment of performing, a lot of it is logistical. Like we're in sub-freezing temperature on a frozen river, Nick’s naked, are we going to get arrested? There are a lot of logistical concerns that are in my head, so I definitely think it's important that there is this preparatory period, because that's where you access all of these emotions, so that the day of performance you can focus on the movements. But there are certain sites, there was this one site, it was water tanks, and they were military bunkers that were used during the war. It was impossible not to emote because they were also an unmarked grave. It's literally a site of mass execution of prisoners during the war. When you are at sites like that, even the frozen river, literally the river is significant because it's flowing from North Korea and flows all the way down. So it's like a connecting natural phenomenon, but you can't go to North Korea, but literally you're on this bed of water. And so there are definitely certain sites where you can't help but feel certain things.

What Korean rituals are you the most inspired by?

For me, the ones that I had grown up with. So, jesa, for example, is a big one. I have been thinking a lot more about this idea of grief and funerary rites. Those are sort of rituals that I feel like I'm more drawn to these days.

What is it like constantly interacting with a collaborative partner as you create?

There's always like an adjustment period, because when you're used to having just your own practice, and it's somewhat solitary, even though you are collaborating with dancers and cinematographers, it is sort of new, but I think it's good. I think that it's good to have another person just as a sounding board. I feel like for me, there's so much anxiety that goes into the projects, because you work so hard, especially when you're making this entire installation, and then it comes down to one or two days of filming, and that's it. There's a lot of pressure there, so it's helpful to have another person that is like a grounding force. I also just think because we are two people, there are certain projects that we can be more ambitious, that we may not be able to materialize individually. So it is good. It's very much like our art practice is consuming our lives at this point, but I think it's good.

It’s wonderful to see you and Nicholas work with modern technology like 3-D printing, while staying true to the traditional techniques of creating moon jars out of clay. How do you like working with clay?

It's so much more stressful than I thought it would be. It's also a lot less intuitive than I thought it would be. It's a lot of technical things – I feel like Nick is very patient with me. And there's also this thing where it can always fall apart, no matter how much work you put into it. So it's definitely stressful. It's definitely something that I'm learning, I just feel like there's a lot more potential for me in terms of these spaces, even 3-D printing. There is this strange new relationship I have with sculpture and work that's more archival. They're all going to be part of this larger cave-like installation space. It is sort of interesting, because I'm not very precious when I'm creating the space by myself, but when I'm collaborating with someone, especially when you're working in ceramics, all these objects that are going to be part of the space are also like autonomous things of themselves. That's been interesting for me.

Do you have a Korean mythical creature that you like?

I actually love the kumiho. I know she's supposed to be this evil, like, seductress, but I love that and I actually have been thinking about a project where it's reclaiming and thinking about that in relationship to fear and feminism. So that's my favorite.

What is your favorite color? Does it find its way into your artwork?

It's not a color, but I feel like white always comes into my work in some way. I just like it on a formal level. I mean, I made an entire installation that is dedicated to it. I also really like red, like stark red, and its sort of allusions to the body. There was an installation I did where I used it as a symbol for blood lines.

Is there a new medium that you would like to try, or to work in more?

I feel like right now we're pretty much immersed and focused in clay. So I'm pretty sure we'll probably continue that. we started making costumes, more and more. And so I definitely would love to get more into textiles and costume making, garment making. We’re actually thinking about doing a series of ceramic masks for an upcoming performance. There’s just something about masks.

Where are you located now? How was your art different depending on your location?

I'm technically based in New York. I feel like I'm constantly traveling, so I'm trying to be more rooted in New York for a while. I think, for me especially, scale plays a big part. For example, we just did a residency in Utica, in upstate New York. It's a residency called Sculpture Space. Partially because of COVID, we were the only two artists there, so we had this huge warehouse to ourselves. I feel like that played a huge role in the projects that we made. We came back with, like, 20 large-scale, life-size prints of our bodies and garments that we made into like these weird altar structures. So I feel like a lot of it depends on just like accessibility and space. Right now Nick is managing the ceramic studios at Pioneer Works, so because we have that space that we're able to sort of access, that's why we're working a lot with clay. I feel like with artists, you have to definitely be resourceful when it comes to space, and also somewhat flexible, depending on what's available to you.

How do you stay connected to your community?

I think I definitely could probably do a better job at staying connected. I feel like I've been trying more to do things in person, especially since that seems possible now. We actually just had a dinner that we hosted where we brought in all of these artists and curators that we knew. It was really great because it sort of brought everyone together. So we were like actually thinking about what if we hosted one of these once a month as a way to, like, have people come and hang out and get to know each other.

What’s your favorite tool?

I think writing for me is really important. I organize my thoughts, and I'm able to access things through writing. It's not like I'm a text-based artist, it's not really something that comes out in my practice, but it's something that I feel like, for me, I need in order to work through what I want to do.

What is the space where you do your work?

Typically the internet, but also, I think, libraries for me, because a lot of it is also research based. So Columbia has the East Asian Library, and we have this incredible collection of Asian literature, and research material. That's where I go a lot. Also just, traveling, I think. We technically have three studios. The clay studio is in Pioneer Works, and then we have a studio at Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts. That's where probably a lot of the installations will come alive. And then we have another space in Industry City in Brooklyn. And that's kind of for fabrication, so he has a bunch of 3-D printers that are set up for that space. So we bounce around.

Do you have any ritual that helps you get into the zone?

Yeah, I think for writing, lots of caffeine, for sure. It's definitely a ritual. I feel like also, because a lot of our work is collaborative, those sort of like check ins are really important. We started to do this thing where every day we check in, and even if it's just making a to do list, that's become this daily ritual that also helps us stay focused. We don't always like follow through, but we're trying to do better about it.

When do you know when you are finished with your work or a body of work?

I think that's also a big question for me. It used to be a series of videos, so that's like, the shoot is over, and then there’s post production, and when the video comes out, that's when the work is over. Right now, it's a little tricky because we're working on a film, so we’ve shot I think over 30 segments. But it's a little clearer cut because it's when the video is ready, that’s when the project wraps.

Are there any Korean artists who you especially like?

I love Anicka Yi’s work and Haegue Yang. I feel like both of them have such a fascinating and amazing relationship to material and space. I also love Michael Joo’s work. He's also my mentor. They kind of are all multidisciplinary. Haegue Yang works a lot in installation and sculpture, as does Michael Joo. Michael Joo’s work, I feel like it's so research driven, and I feel like he travels a lot and it has a lot to do with land and nature and ecology. And Anicka Yi works a lot with bacteria and scent, but it also culminates in sculptures and installations.

Who are your favorite practicing artists?

I think colleagues wise, Jeffrey Meris. He's an artist who was in my cohort at Columbia. Anina Major. Nick and Anina went to graduate school together. There's so many more, I'm blanking. Leeza Meskin, she is faculty at Columbia, and also just a mentor for me.

What gives you the feeling of butterflies in your stomach?

I think there's always a point when I'm working on a project and nothing's really made yet, and I'm just extremely excited about what we're doing. I think that gives me butterflies. Like, right now, we're working on these crazy urn vessels where we took a silicone mold of my face and one of my mom's face, and then we cast it in clay, and we're making this huge vessel out of it. They're going to be used in performance, and also exist on their own. But during that process and thinking about the possibilities, there's a certain point that gives me butterflies

www.ayoung-yu.com | @ayoungyustudio

www.aydostudio.com | @aydo_studio