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Curate us Critique us please / 2024 / 29.7 x 21 cm / Mosaic on concrete
Regarding the Venice Biennale 2024 / 2024 / 29.7 x 21 cm / Mosaic on concrete
Sneak postcard selling at Venice Biennale’s gift Shop/ 2024 / 14.8 x 10.5 cm / Two postcards
Oh, there's a typical Asian tourist! / 2024 / 1’11” / Performance and Video
Manifesto series / 2024 / Digital Photo / Photo credit @ Miri from Airbnb
Banner , 2024, 150cm x 40cm , Digital print on canvas
This project began after my visit to the 60th Venice Biennale earlier this year.
The theme of last year’s Biennale, Foreigners Everywhere, explored multiculturalism and migration, featuring artists from diverse national and ethnic backgrounds. While viewing the exhibitions, I couldn't shake the impression that many of the invited artists were not presented as autonomous contributors but rather as narrative devices serving the exhibition’s overarching themes. Outside the national pavilions, artists of color were often still framed as representatives of specific nations or defined primarily by their identities.
The term person of color implicitly highlights specific shades while also raising the question of what the “default” color is. Who defines these categories, and for what purpose? The first time I heard myself referred to as a person of color, my immediate thought was, Isn’t white also a color?
Many artists of color, myself included, often feel that we are not treated equitably by art institutions, museums, and galleries. Rather than being valued as independent creators, artists of color are frequently consumed as part of a broader narrative. Institutions often expect artists of color to produce work that reinforces themes of otherness, multiculturalism, or political correctness, effectively reducing them to spokespersons rather than acknowledging their artistic individuality.
When artists of color critique racism or colonialism, the responses from white critics and the art world can be contradictory—either excessive praise or complete silence. The latter, often stemming from a fear of appearing insensitive, paradoxically becomes another form of racial bias.
While I acknowledge my identity as an Asian woman, I do not believe it should define my entire artistic practice. My nationality and ethnicity were not choices I made; they are arbitrary, much like the numbers on a lottery ticket. Yet, curators often overemphasize identity-driven narratives when presenting artists of color, thereby essentializing these categories and flattening the complexity of individual artistic expression.
This brings me back to the discomfort I felt at the Venice Biennale. It was not just about the artists selected but how they were presented. Many of the non-Western artists were framed through the lens of their racial or cultural backgrounds as if their primary role was to represent a certain identity rather than to be seen as autonomous artists.
The art world prides itself on being progressive and radical. However, its over obsession with political correctness ironically contributes to the othering of artists of color. Implicitly, certain narratives are predetermined for artists of color, and there exists an invisible structural pressure to remain within these boundaries.
Of course, the intention behind such representation is often well-meaning. The art world seeks to address historical imbalances and provide more visibility to marginalized voices. However, when artists of color are consistently framed in ways that emphasize their identity over their work, it risks reinforcing the very structures it aims to dismantle. It creates a situation where racial and cultural identity become the dominant lens through which their art is interpreted, limiting the breadth of their creative expression.
There is also a paradox at play. While the art world champions diversity and inclusion, it often does so in a way that inadvertently exoticizes non-Western artists. Their work is frequently discussed in relation to political or social struggles rather than artistic merit. This can place an implicit pressure on artists of color to produce work that aligns with these themes, reinforcing the expectation that their art must be about their identity or history of marginalization.
At times, I find myself questioning whether I am expected to make work that explicitly reflects my Korean heritage, my experiences as an immigrant, or my perspective as a woman of color. If I were to focus solely on formal or conceptual concerns—such as abstraction, materiality, or aesthetic experimentation—would my work be seen as less relevant? Would it be perceived as failing to address the “issues” that are assumed to define my existence?
In the end, this leads to a fundamental question: Are artists of color truly free in the art world, or are they bound by the expectations placed upon them?
Art institutions play a significant role in shaping the discourse around representation. Museums, biennials, and galleries have the power to influence how artists are perceived, and with that power comes responsibility. When curators emphasize identity-driven narratives, they are not simply presenting art—they are actively constructing meaning around it.
The challenge is that while institutions seek to address historical injustices, their approaches can sometimes feel performative rather than transformative. The inclusion of artists of color is often framed as a corrective measure rather than a natural, organic recognition of artistic talent. This creates an unspoken dynamic in which artists of color may feel that they are being included because of their identity rather than their work.
The danger is that diversity becomes a checkbox, and representation becomes a spectacle rather than a meaningful shift in power structures.
Simultaneously, I critique the choices of some artists of color who voluntarily self-objectify. The essence of being an artist lies in transcending national or racial identities, fostering originality, and building a unique artistic universe.
These are the questions I hope to explore through this project.
Artists of color should not be confined to identity or ethnicity but should be recognized for their multifaceted potentials.
Just as the Guerrilla Girls highlighted sexism in the art world, I aim to extend this critique to issues of race and ethnicity, exposing the intersectional inequities in contemporary art.
Critics’ avoidance of engaging with works by artists of color—often out of fear of appearing insensitive— deprives these artists of the opportunity for growth. Silence erases the voices of the oppressed and perpetuates existing power structures.
Artists of color are often positioned as “outsiders” rather than integrated into mainstream discourse. We must reject this mode of consumption and affirm our agency as artists. I aim to evolve this project, creating a space where artists of color can express their artistic voices without being reduced to singular identities.