Galerie Khoshbakht

Yoora Park

Info: Galerie Khoshbakht is delighted to announce Yoora Park’s first exhibition with the gallery Trotting horse with head tilted to the left. Tail runs in a straight line against back left leg to the end of the leg. Mane is very clear and made up of straight lines. Reins on horse run from mouth to neck to back in a row of three. Hoofs are broken and missing. I. You stop, you pause, you wait for an edge to appear only to slowly realize you might be the edge. All around you something else’s non-existence prompts the emergence of a space. Its contours are familiar, leeched from a fade. What is the sound of an edge appearing? An incessant flicker like the pull of a reel-to-reel tape recorder, a circular hum. The sound of a waiting room, an office building with stacks of identical floors, the elevator carriage before the doors part, before the ding. However temporary, there’s also something sustaining here, temporality feels material: thicker than vapor though still porous and defined by what it–that edge–starts to impinge upon. Like a shadow, like a bad mood. Like the queasy and indeterminate lead-up to the onset of the flu. Inside, cubicle-like with four walls made of muscle, tissue and glands that throb and buffer. A rush of blood to the ears meets the jangle of a fax machine making contact across phone lines. For a moment, informational coordinates roam free out there, fundamentally inside of yet seemingly beyond the boundaries of formal space. Administrative time is time to calibrate, is the sound of a tautology, is circular, is coming into being into order to be useless. (…)