My practice examines how human beings and everyday life are commodified under late-capitalist and neoliberal systems, and how our bodies and consciousness are formalized and objectified through these processes. At times, my work begins in response to rapidly changing conditions, such as the COVID-19 pandemic; at other times, it emerges from a temporary interest in specific technologies, or develops through exchanges with close collaborators I have encountered across different contexts, including a scientist, a poet, and a musician.

In my earlier works, I began by questioning how the sense of rest and respite has disappeared from everyday life within a 24/7 operating socio-economic system, and where mental conditions such as depression and burnout originate, as well as how prevalent they are across society. I sought the roots and forms of these phenomena in the cultures of self-improvement and wellness that have emerged under neoliberalism, paying particular attention to how immaterial values —such as emotion, care, and rest— are commodified and capitalized in the form of various cultural products. During this period, I was particularly interested in creating works in the form of everyday commodities; thus, I developed my practice by designing and producing sleep garments, conceptual design objects, and device prototypes.

My practice underwent a significant shift during the COVID-19 pandemic. At the time, I was living in the UK, where I experienced strict lockdown measures and periods of isolation, and witnessed a rapid digitalization in which most aspects of everyday life moved online. Amid the threat of the virus, I witnessed the proliferation of metaverse worlds across platforms, alongside a radical anticipation that our future world would unfold within virtual spaces. Experiencing the technologies that accelerated this shift, as well as the gamification of everyday life, I came to realize that the problems produced by capitalism and human desires had not fundamentally changed; rather, they had evolved into more visually elaborate forms and were being absorbed into our lives at an even faster pace as images within digital environments.

The promise of an egalitarian world — one in which image-processing technologies would enable us to transcend race, gender, nationality, and physical limitations — as well as the optimism surrounding decentralized systems associated with NFT and blockchain technologies, were paradoxically undermined as the pandemic intensified. These visions became rapidly capitalized and, in turn, increasingly centralized within a small number of dominant platforms. Witnessing this, I came to recognize that aspects of human life that are difficult to measure — such as the body, mind, experience, and emotion — are being quantified and transformed into analyzable data within digital environments through specific technologies and devices. Furthermore, I observed how these elements are subtly and intricately commodified and capitalized through platforms and algorithms. Building on these reflections, my earlier works translated elements such as wearable devices that connect physical and virtual spaces, game items, and inventory spaces into sculptural forms and spatial installations. More recently, I have expanded my practice by working with subjects such as virtual humans, self-improvement and lifestyle influencers, image filters, and wearable devices — entities that are produced and consumed as commodities — through a combination of sculpture and digital media.

The desire for self-optimization and bodily enhancement driven by neoliberalism has evolved in tandem with technological advancement, intensifying at an accelerated pace alongside devices that adhere closely to the surface of the body. This desire is projected onto the fictional figures and images that circulate within social media and metaverse environments, where it is further distributed and recirculated through platforms and algorithms. In this process, data generated through clicks and responses, choices and non-choices, becomes a metric for evaluating images and personas, ultimately producing a structure in which the human body, image, and even identity function as commodities.

One of the key concerns in my practice is this notion of 'commodification', and my work engages with the notion of the "product" across multiple dimensions. This may take the form of products as understood in industrial design, or cases in which a person or image — such as an influencer — functions as a commodity. Through my work, I often imagine future scenarios in which current social issues persist and intensify, designing the kinds of personas, products, or life forms that might emerge within such contexts, and proposing them in the form of models. While this approach may resemble the world-building strategies of science fiction, it is less concerned with constructing linear narratives and closer to an industrial design approach that considers elements such as the 'user', 'context of use', and 'technical conditions' involved in the creation of a product. In particular, through the format of the 'model', I construct sculptural devices and structures that invite interaction, attempting to translate imagined futures into experiences that can be encountered in the present.

Objects and Commodities

Sora Park has developed a methodology that imagines future scenarios in which present-day social issues persist and intensify, materialising speculative commodities that might emerge in such conditions in the form of models or 3D images. In her work, ‘objects’ are not merely functional tools or material entities, but complex assemblages in which bodies, emotions, and technologies are entangled. These objects often appear as the outer skins of digital bodies or as proxies for social desire, resembling ‘commodities’ that reflect an era of hyper-capitalism.

For instance, in Smile! (2020) and Connect–Disconnect–Reconnect (2021), Park presented fictional wearable devices and headgear designed to train human emotions as commodities, offering a critical perspective on a future in which even a “smile” becomes a marketable attitude. Drawing on speculative, science-fictional imagination, the artist poses questions such as: how are posthuman subjects commodified under capitalism, and through what processes are the body and consciousness formalised and objectified?

Today, the transformations driven by capital and technology not only reveal bodies extended into commodities, but also serve as a foundation for turning existence itself into a commodity. This critical perspective is articulated more directly in works such as Item Inventory (2021) and Soft Prologue (2022), which take as their motif ‘buff items’ from films or games—objects that rapidly and dramatically enhance a character’s abilities. Across these works, the artist addresses objects positioned as extensions of the human body; yet, these objects are characterised as being closer to commodities than to humans. Do these works, then, invite us to critically reconsider commodification through speculative imagination? Can the designs within them avoid being consumed as “yet another product,” and instead operate as practices that question the very form of the commodity itself? Furthermore, can Park’s aesthetic experiments reveal the totalities—of power, economy, and technology—that underlie reality, and reassemble a fragmented world?

Modern design, which developed alongside capitalism in the early twentieth century, objectified people as consumers or users by determining the “form” of products, services, and environments. In doing so, objects have alienated humans and propelled the future in a single direction. What, then, would it mean to imagine objects that could interrupt this trajectory—objects that enable us to envision new ethical frameworks, or anticipate ways of living not yet realised? While adopting the formal language of modern design, Park’s objects simultaneously work against it. Taking ‘speculation’ as a strategy, they attempt to reposition humans not as users, but as thinking subjects. ‘Speculation’, as a philosophical method, extends knowledge and understanding by engaging with the nature of reality and existence beyond direct experience. Unlike ‘imagination’, which broadly encompasses creative activity, speculation involves the formulation of critical hypotheses and theoretical inquiry that challenge established norms. Speculation in design gained wider recognition through Speculative Design (2013) by Anthony Dunne and Fiona Raby. Centred on the question “What if…?”, speculative design functions as “a catalyst for redefining our relationship with reality in a more comprehensive way.” [1]

“Each speculative project occupies a space between reality and the impossible—a space of dreams, hopes, and fears. This is an important space, where, at least in theory, we can debate and discuss possible futures before they arrive, aiming for preferable futures while avoiding undesirable ones.”[2]

Park’s objects may appear to belong to an inevitable future (one might recall their sleek surfaces and finishes, as if benefiting from advanced technologies), yet they are produced precisely in order to resist that future. In response to the question of whether objects today can possess possibilities beyond commodities, it is not sufficient to simply reject the defining conditions of commodities, such as functionality or exchange value. Nor is it enough to rely solely on radical gestures that open gaps in perception. Rather, the emergence of new possibilities for objects is inseparable from the question of how objectified humans might overcome commodification itself.

Humans and Commodities

Park’s recent work, Dea’s Day(2025), is a two-channel video installation that draws on the formal language of short films and self-improvement content. The self-help coaching influencer featured in the video is a fictional character created by the artist, named Dea Lee—from the Latin dea, meaning “goddess.” On one hand, she symbolises an idealised figure that does not exist in reality yet relentlessly pursues perfection. In the main video, Dea faces the camera directly, addressing her subscribers with imperatives such as: “Record and analyse your data,” “Design your image,” and “Automate your daily life and execute it efficiently.” The planning and data analysis aimed at maximising efficiency ultimately transform humans into something akin to commodities moving along a conveyor belt.

Italian social philosopher Franco “Bifo” Berardi argues that contemporary capitalism extracts labour not from the body, but from the brain and emotions, placing information, creativity, and communication at the centre of production. Under such “cognitive capitalism,” the body is displaced, while the digitalised image of the self becomes increasingly important. As labour becomes immaterial, desire, identity, and emotion are commodified through media and reproduced as designed personas.[3] As a ‘commodified and designed persona’ conceived by Park, Dea likewise contributes to the acceleration of capitalism by endlessly optimising routines in pursuit of becoming the “best version” of oneself. Earlier, in Soft Touch (2022), Park introduced the virtual influencer Kim James and the wearable device designer Dr. Sara Park, proposing methods to upgrade the lives of virtual influencers:

“Humans no longer need to become influencers themselves. As influencers are engineered by specialised teams, a new kind of influencer emerges—one free from the risks associated with human individuals. They become flawless commodities, equipped with perfect storylines, concepts, and appeal, and are self-branded entities.” [4]

Embedded in this statement is a form of commodification detached from objects, materiality, and the human body. Similarly, in Meta Beauty Innovation (2024), the figure introducing the cosmetic device “i-meta”—which updates one’s appearance in real time according to trends—is itself a digital human. The speaker who narrates “our future and labour”[5] is, notably, a collection of data constructed on an immaterial platform, demonstrating that commodification can occur even without a physical body.

“Here, humans are created, directed, and performed as data.
Your digital appearance is updated instantly.
This data is reflected in your image in real time.
Through this function, we can significantly enhance our stagnant personal productivity.”[6]

The message delivered by the character is concise and direct, almost like a manifesto. When someone confidently presents the surreal as if grounded in reality, it becomes difficult to question what lies beyond it. As a result, attempts to step outside this seemingly plausible world—a simulation of an imminent future—are not easily made. In this context, (non-)human entities intertwined with commodification will likely extend their influence even more rapidly through digital capitalism and platform infrastructures. How, then, might we resist?

A possible answer emerges in the second channel of Dea’s Day. The reality presented here differs markedly from the first. Dea appears dishevelled and exhausted. Her once confident expression gives way to anxiety; the drive that once propelled her forward turns into a sense of helplessness. Ironically, she returns from commodity to human. In a time when, as some have noted, it is easier to imagine the end of humanity than the end of capitalism, it is only by stepping outside the forms demanded by capitalism that humans may recover as autonomous subjects. Dea, who initially appeared to embody the “true self” we desire, reveals herself to be a consumable sign. Yet, in the moment she abandons the role assigned to her, she becomes a performative agent capable of unsettling that very structure. Instead of adhering to tightly scheduled temporal regimes—where even communication and emotional responses become mediators of algorithmic value production— Dea responds to the present by slowing down and disconnecting. Like Franco “Bifo” Berardi, she suggests that doing nothing, or withdrawing from existing orders, can open up new pathways. [7] Following Berardi, Dea recognises that while a singular, definitive future may have disappeared, other possibilities remain. Within the conditions of the here and now, there exist unrealised potentials—futures yet to come. In such a space, we may invent different rhythms of life, different languages, and different sensibilities, made possible only through poetic imagination. In this world, art can function as a medium that reveals “possibilities yet to arrive,” and enables us to imagine exits even in an age of exhaustion. The answer lies in Deari’s weary expression and her words. One hopes that the next version of Dea will speak of something that cannot be captured by existing orders, making visible the fractures within a singular vision of the future.

Hyunjung Woo   studied design and art theory at undergraduate and graduate levels, and has worked in exhibition planning at Goyang Cultural Foundation, Sungkok Art Museum, and Art Center Nabi. She later worked as an art journalist for the monthly magazine SPACE, and served as a senior researcher at the Korea National Institute for the Arts. Since 2020, she has been working as a curator at the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, Korea. Her recent exhibitions include What Things Dream About? (2024).

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[1] Anthony Dunne and Fiona Raby, Speculative Design, trans. Kang Yejin, supervised by Kim Hwang (Seoul: Ahn Graphics, 2023), 17.
[2] Ibid., 102
[3] See Franco “Bifo” Berardi, The Soul at Work: From Alienation to Autonomy (Los Angeles, CA: Semiotext(e), 2009).
[4] Um Jehyeon, interview with Sora Park on Soft Touch, in The Use of Use, Chapter 3: User-Friendly (Eulji Art Center, 2022).
[5] Sora Park, Meta Beauty Innovation (2024), video subtitles.
[6] Ibid.
[7] See Franco “Bifo” Berardi, After the Future (Oakland, CA; Edinburgh: AK Press, 2011).

Have you ever thought about the 50 won coin, which is becoming increasingly irrelevant due to rampant inflation and the dematerialization of value storage? The younger you are, the less likely you are to pause to contemplate the rice ears depicted on the coin. The rice variety shown on the front is ‘Tongilmi’. As the post-war baby boom began, rice production started to decline relatively, and the government focused on improving rice varieties. Crops vulnerable to the environment underwent a history of artificial selection, and the issue of producing Japonica rice, preferred in East Asia, was ultimately resolved by Heu Mun-hue. While serving as a professor at Seoul National University’s College of Agriculture and Life Sciences, he requested to be sent to the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) in 1964, amid concerns over rice issues at the Rural Development Administration. His repeated breeding efforts at this research institute in  the southern region near Manila, Philippines, resulted in the creation of ‘Tongilmi’. Although it later fell out of favor due to its susceptibility to cold damage and taste, Tongilmi was cultivated nationwide and recognized for satisfying South Korea’s rice demand, ensuring its image would endure.


It is evident that hundreds of crossbreeds were conducted to obtain a single

variety of Tongilmi. Not only is this artificial selection too short in scope and history compared to natural selection, but in some areas, it is difficult to distinguish between artificial and natural selection. In nature, the desire to be the fittest is mutually osmotic. In the long historical process of wolves becoming dogs, is it only human desire that is reflected? Both dogs and humans project their desires onto each other and have evolved accordingly. Dogs that have evolved to be gentler, more loyal, and more endearing have fulfilled the imperative of prosperity within the confines of human boundaries. This cannot be explained by a breeding culture of less than 200 years, and so the notion of artificial selection built into the word obscures the mutualism of desire by distorting the separation between humans and nature. All things in nature, like flowers and bees, experiment with programs that imagine and design the position of the other to realize their respective desires. Flowers reproduce, while bees gather nectar. In this scheme, who is the object of desire, and who is the subject?


We can read a similar relationship of desire in Park Sora’s work. In her piece, “Meta Beauty Innovation”, which unfolds in the format of a product demonstration, the wearable device ‘I-meta’ evokes the image of a Facehugger. It is a cosmetics device that can reflect and update in real time to reflect uncontrollably fast-changing trends. In the video, Park Sara repeatedly pitches statements that sound like contemporary issues, making devices such as sci-fi, digital elements, and future tense seem meaningless. It is claimed that “the ‘I-meta’ can predict how many ‘likes’ it can garner on social media”, thereby “maximizing the labor productivity” of influencers who have built their revenue models around it. Despite Park Sara’s claim that it ‘transcends evolution”, it still appears to revolve around the issue of desire within the frame of environmental adaptation. A peculiar game that begins within the assumption of the attention economy. Each participant gains what they can, like flowers and bees, and gives what they must. The audience consumes advertisements for visual satisfaction, influencers gain attention and resources while exporting enjoyment, advertising companies spend currency to gain traffic, and the platform extracts profit from all these three. It seems a sacred gambling table has been set up where no one stands to lose.


The formula of the power of the ‘i-meta’ that makes this economy work is noteworthy. The appearance of organisms relies on a kind of spontaneity arising from the desires of others. For an appearance to be beautiful, it must receive a radiance that exceeds mere visibility through the act of being seen. Beauty resides not in the inner essence derived from the harmony of eyes, nose, and mouth, but in the act of being seen, where the intensity of the reflected radiance translates into great allure. Since the radiance must be concentrated through the lens of another’s eye, that eye becomes an obscura projecting someone’s beauty. Thus, appearance may be described not as an indivisible possession but as an asset that fluctuates based on complex temporal sequences. The ‘I-meta’ leans towards a portfolio approach, dislocated from relatively fixed and stable appearances. Now, appearance becomes active; it is no longer determined by unilateral evaluations but anticipates and responds as a competent investor regarding what assessments may be made.


In this process, ‘i-meta’ becomes sublime. The radiance of appearance has primarily been given to others, predicated on an ontological return. However, the ultimate altruism of ‘i-meta’ transforms the convergence of radiance from something biological and organic into effortless ‘likes’, redirecting the radiance of outpouring so that the viewer also becomes part of that radiance, joining in the pilgrimage of outpouring. Now, there is no longer self-sufficiency or exaltation in what is shown. It is solely a flash aimed at indiscriminate others, functioning as an artificial sun. This inorganic, metallic allure encloses the wearer beneath the skin, repositioning them into a realm akin to jewels. While the radiance of jewels highlights the wearer, the radiance of ‘i-meta’ petrifies the user into a mineral, like Medusa, making them the radiance itself. The trends reflected upon the fallen sublimity flow infinitely, failing to form a concrete image (as if the face trapped within is struggling to break free). Every trend aspiring to be a trend competes in real time.


Now, attempts to find consistency in the face and attribute essence to the subject will be frustrated. The stability shown in the image of Tongilmi is assured by the indicators of value maintaining the replication of sameness and consistency (50 won is always 50 won). However, this stability has always been fictional. The stability of currency can only be registered after concealing the economy that is constantly diminished by inflation. Similarly, the identity granted by human appearance has been fictional, shaped by aging and the evaluations of others, yet it was assured by overlooking this reality. ‘I-meta’ is rather frank. It reveals that the system of the face also belongs to an evaluative system akin to assets, constantly requesting adaptation. The appearance that one believed to own is only valid at a functional level of eyes, nose, and mouth, and the decorative image that emerges from their combination belongs to the opposite spectrum. Now, permanence and essence have become revealed fictions. What could have been disconnected from specific styles or trends has been its uniqueness. It was the source of aura and also a sacred site like *Sodo that allowed art to secure its position in opposition to craft. However, the uniqueness of the face, once akin to a fingerprint, erodes under the cultural dominance of ‘I-meta’. The label of uniqueness crafted through the arrangement of eyes, nose, and mouth turns into a relic of a bygone era. The eyes, nose, and mouth serve as mere decorations in that they are ‘attached’. Understandably, decoration can always be replaced. The tackiness of the old model of the face is compounded by the scarcity of the ‘I-meta’: only five hundred people can own one. Now, synthesis is no longer the interaction of eyes, nose, and mouth. Once, one could infer the soul based on expressions arising from their complementarity, but the times have changed. The capitalist alienation that separates ownership from existence composes a heterotopia of illusory reflections within a synthesis where the possession of ‘I-meta’ constitutes existence. The metallic flow representing radiance itself adds an element of scarcity, visually indicating social power and status, causing a historical metamorphosis as the halo shifts from the periphery to radiate from the front.


‘I-meta’ can be seen as a visual, decorative, and functional sign of the same symptoms. Park Sara’s statement that “our future depends on our ability to change rapidly” positions ‘I-meta’ as a survival kit. Therefore, ‘I-meta’ transforms from a mere luxury for influencers into an essential commodity that one must possess. Adapting to change becomes an effort not to be left behind in an accelerating world, a battleground that all natural entities have continuously contested since their inception. ‘Automating’ the analysis and reflection of data means that change and adaptation become issues of imitation based on performance, rather than a subjective capacity. This limitation has maintained an inseparable relationship with trends. The speed of imitating trends is also an indicator of the class to which one belongs. Since it reveals class, we must recognize that trends ‘flow’ from above to below, escaping the illusion created by the rhetoric of ‘passing’. When humans participate in this trend, they belong to a specific style while entering a specific section, simultaneously distinguishing themselves from lower sections. Thus, ‘I-meta’ compels us to choose between extinction and imitation. One can sink into the abyss or enjoy comfort in a bomb shelter.


Now we can draw a parallel between ‘I-meta’ and Tongilmi, which stand in opposition to each other. Although Tongilmi achieved a form of eternity, it could not withstand the changes of accelerating inflation and the dematerialization of the world, ultimately becoming obsolete. It has become untraceable due to devaluation and further diversification of payment methods. In contrast, ‘I-meta’ seems unable to take any shape and therefore appears to guarantee nothing, yet it paradoxically captivates us as if it will not bounce out of this flow. Not to mention Zygmunt Bauman’s notion of liquid modernity, this liquidity directly relates to the liquidity of capital and the fluidity of our lives. The exterior of ‘I-meta’, which helps us escape the threat of being swept away by liquidity and conceals us within it, may well be a newly sprouted horn for humanity. Certainly, with this new horn, we can no longer be classified as human.

*In the Three Han period, Sodo was a religious sanctuary, and criminals who fled there would no longer be pursued.

E — The subtitle of the exhibition is “User-Friendly.” To what extent were you conscious of this?

P — Even in my usual practice, I tend to consider the idea of being “user-friendly” when making work. For instance, Style Your Sleep, which was inspired by the phenomenon of rest itself being processed and offered like a commodity, was produced in a wearable form. In works like City Fence, I often find myself imagining the viewer’s body in formal terms—from the circulation of movement, to interactivity, to the scale of the work itself. In my installation works so far, I have also presented pieces that incorporate a sense of function. Moreover, since it has been quite some time that artistic discourse has not been indifferent to the viewer, I do not think the term “user-friendly” is limited to a design-oriented concept. Even works that appear to be aesthetic and autonomous objects can acquire a kind of utility—becoming “user-friendly”—depending on how they are received by the audience.

E — The curator asked you not only to produce artworks, but also to construct a “persona.” Did this influence your production process?

P — It changed my working process quite significantly. Looking back, I think my previous works often began with translating phenomena from everyday life that felt meaningful into artistic form. For example, in Frost in June, I became interested in the stereotypes embedded in the language through which media represents women, and I formally connected how such words become naturally fixed to gender through media effects by using a program called the “Other-Learning Machine.” In Style Your Sleep, I was drawn to the way rest—originally a natural biological rhythm—becomes packaged and circulated as a service commodity.

In contrast, this exhibition developed by assuming a specific subject and concretising its use. As a result, Soft Touch is presented together with a dialogue text. This is not simply a supplementary narrative accompanying an object, but functions more like an integral part of the work, through which the formal validity of the piece can be examined and contrasted.


E —You set the persona as a virtual human influencer from a future world.

P — In art, temporality is fluid. The past, for instance, can be redefined through present practices. The future is more complex. Art can present both utopian and dystopian futures as images. In particular, dystopia is both a possible future and a deferred present—something that could very well arrive if things continue as they are.

Although the temporal setting of Soft Touch is in the future, it is closely connected to events unfolding today. As you mentioned, the persona is a virtual human influencer. Until recently, being an influencer was a profession reserved for real humans—one that involves attracting audiences through one’s own external and internal qualities, and thereby exercising influence itself as a form of labour. However, this concept is changing. Virtual YouTubers are one example. Humans no longer need to become influencers themselves. Instead, influencers are now engineered by specialised teams, resulting in figures free from the risks associated with human individuals. Such influencers become flawless commodities—with perfected storylines, concepts, and appeal—and are self-branded entities. For this reason, I conceived this persona as a contemporary conceptual figure that reflects a social media landscape in which influencers continuously contribute to platforms through constant self-presentation, even without being explicitly directed to do so.

E — During the workshop, the persona was created at the curator’s request. From the perspective of autonomy, this raises the question of whether the artist was truly engaging in artistic practice.

P — The question of autonomy is complex. A good example would be the recent trend of AI-generated images. While humans input prompts, it is the AI that captures and assembles images based on them. In this process, humans must rely heavily on contingency. Therefore, it is difficult to claim that humans possess full autonomy in image production. The same applies to this exhibition. While the framework for creating the persona was proposed by the curator, it was the artist who determined the specific characteristics and background of the persona. I would say the curator provided a tool rather than issuing prescriptive instructions. Although this could be seen as a constraint, for me it functioned as an opportunity to experiment with a different mode of production.

E — So neither “user-friendliness” nor autonomy serves as a clear boundary between design and art. Then what distinguishes the two?

P — I don’t think there is a clear criterion that separates design from art anymore. In the past, it may have been possible to define design and distinguish it from art through certain frameworks. However, over time, many of these distinctions have been blurred. What remains are rather conventional labels that loosely differentiate the two, but they no longer function as strict categories in practice. Perhaps contemporary practices are still being described using outdated terms. If I had to choose one criterion, however, I would still point to autonomy. In my earlier response, I suggested that it is not always clear who holds autonomy. Depending on the degree of a commissioner’s involvement—particularly in the process rather than the final outcome—it may be possible to distinguish art and design in terms of the level of freedom within the production process.

The exhibition Data Jungwon(2022), which brought together “Artist View of Science (AVS),” explored collaborative practices between artists and scientists across diverse contexts, focusing on systems that perceive, classify, and analyse “data.” Among the works presented, Sora Park’s Brain & Soul is an installation composed of a structure that viewers can freely reposition and reshape. Through this work, the artist visualises both neuroscientist Koh Hye-young’s perspective on the brain and her own expanded interpretation derived from their exchange.

Koh Hye-young remarked: “Although humans share a common brain structure, each individual undergoes different experiences and learning processes within distinct environments. The resulting patterns of synaptic connections form what we call individuality. Perhaps this individuality itself could be understood as the soul.” This conversation served as a key source of inspiration for Park in conceiving Brain & Soul.

An Artist's Experiment with Science

Upon entering the exhibition space, one encounters a structure composed of curved blue pipes, dark grey panels, and orange bearings and wheels. The panels, arranged in layers, display images of virtual environments, resembling magnifying lenses through which one peers into digital space. Roughly the height of an adult, the structure is not fixed in form; mounted on wheels, it can be freely transformed and moved by viewers.

As visitors reshape the structure—forming it into a circle or stretching it into a straight line—and move it throughout the space, the exhibition environment, once perceived as solemn and static, is transformed into a site of playful engagement. In this work, Park evokes an imagination of “feedback,” in which individuality, emerging from neural synaptic patterns, manifests as actions within space, while the experiences and interpretations generated through those actions in turn contribute to the formation of new synaptic patterns.

Designing Space for Perception and Cognition

Park’s practice often begins with the conception of space. The artist conveys her ideas through the unfamiliar spatial sensations that arise when viewers encounter unexpected environments within the exhibition context—such as casinos, shop windows, or game spaces.

In Double or Nothing (2021), Park borrows spatial characteristics associated with casinos to create a momentary sense of immersion. The work consists of a curved canopy structure printed with sky imagery, beneath which a perforated casino table and a motorised rake are installed. The rake moves slowly across the table, pushing casino chips into holes, creating a scene that draws viewers into a fleeting yet compelling experience. In Park’s spaces, the processes of sensation and cognition that emerge at the moment of encounter are carefully designed to remain as lasting experiences.

Framing the Scope of Action and Experience 

Brain & Soul extends beyond physical space to encompass connections with virtual digital environments. Here, rather than “representing reality within digital space,” Park adopts her own strategy of “bringing digital space into reality.”

Elements commonly found in digital environments—such as x, y, z axes and grid imagery—are incorporated as formal components of the work. [2]The artist’s interest in digital space is translated into physical objects through symbolic forms and images.

While digital space is often described as infinitely expandable through computation and networks, the range within which it can be experienced in reality is, in fact, limited by the available input/output devices. Park’s approach of “bringing digital space into reality” symbolically reveals the bounded nature of experiences shaped by such devices.

Although viewers are free to transform and move the structure, the scope of their experience remains confined within parameters designed by the artist. Through this parallel between different spaces, the work functions as a site that re-enacts modes of action found in digital environments.


An Artistic Space of Feedback Between Experience and Interpretation
In this work, Park symbolically presents a feedback loop between space, action, experience, and interpretation within a structure she has constructed. The artist designs a space for perception and cognition, and defines the range of actions and experiences available within it.

Although all viewers are provided with the same spatial conditions, each engages with the work through their own perceptions and backgrounds, generating intersubjective experiences. The feedback between experience and interpretation in this artistic context does not form a closed, two-dimensional cycle that simply returns to its origin; rather, it develops into a spiral-like, three-dimensional system of meaning that shifts across different layers.

As advances in science and technology continue to expand our understanding of space and diversify the actions we can perform within it, one anticipates that Park’s exploration of “space” will continue to evolve through increasingly varied configurations.

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[1] Cognitive neuroscientist Colin Ellard, in his book Places of the Heart: The Psychogeography of Everyday Life (2015), examines various cases of “psychogeography,” a field that integrates neuroscience with environmental design. Among these, he also analyses the spatial strategies of casinos. According to Ellard, the entrances of most casinos are designed as curved pathways, allowing only partial visibility of the interior. This design simultaneously generates anticipation and excitement while creating a sense of separation from the outside world. Furthermore, he suggests that the pastoral landscapes recreated within casino interiors elevate visitors’ positive emotions, encouraging them to remain in the space for longer periods.


[2] A similar strategy of representing digital space can also be found in the artist’s solo exhibition Soft Prologue (2022). In this work, game items that exist within digital environments are brought into physical space, creating an uncanny atmosphere. Unlike the sleek digital images typically encountered in game worlds, these items appear as human-scale sculptural forms roughly modelled in clay, producing a striking sense of unfamiliarity.