Ceramic green goblin feet line the windowsill, disembodied furry legs jut out of one white wall and, on the table behind where the Korean-Chinese artist sits drinking tea, a headless being dressed in a black coat squats, arms aloft in warning. There are also neat racks of colourful thread next to a freehand embroidery machine, the source of this supernatural hoard. This is where Joo creates much of her art – surface embroideries and sculptural 3D creatures inspired by Korean myth, philosophy and the relationship between humans and the natural world.
Swapping east Asia for west Europe started her thinking about how she was shaped by culture and the world around her. She embroidered the 10 Daoist symbols of longevity, typically used to wish someone long life, on to an old Ikea bag – a plastic product that could take up to 1,000 years to decompose. Guided by the idea from Korean folklore and shamanism that inanimate objects can become spirited beings called dokkaebi, she looked at the junk discarded in London with fresh eyes.
Now she often uses found objects in her work – a creature with many feet peers out of an old shirt sleeve; a discarded wooden side-table now sprouts a 5ft-tall dokkaebi leg. Makers are not just keeping these skills alive but evolving how they can be used. This means more people are drawn to it,” says Joo.
She is preparing for her first solo show, Bodily Inbetweenness, at London’s Ruup & Form gallery, which opens during Shoreditch Design Week. For this, she explores a new type of spirit, human emotions and how we display them – a concept that Joo shows through powerful figures, slightly reminiscent of corn dollies but 5ft tall, poking out of the walls. The first sculpture in this series – I Hear Things Existing With Me, a contemplative figure slightly sunken into the wall it leans on – was one of the standout pieces at London’s Collect Craft Fair in February.
Collect’s director, TF Chan, believes that you never forget the first time you see Joo’s work. I think that international attention has meant that, especially within Korea, there’s now more interest in preserving and honouring traditions.” For Joo, seeing herself as a maker as well as an artist is a point of pride at a time when craftspeople continue to struggle for art world acceptance. Whereas if you come from a craft background what you do is rarely considered fine art.
It should be free-flowing.” With another show to prepare for at the Harley Foundation, Nottinghamshire, later this year, Joo has long hours ahead of her in the studio creating her magical creatures, but she relishes that. That really is what my work is about.”
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