The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
Kyungmin
Park is no stranger in ceramic circles. If you look carefully, she seems to be everywhere—from workshops at places like Watershed Center for Ceramic Arts and Arrowmont School of Arts and Crafts to important ceramic shows like the “Figuring
Space” exhibition at The Clay Studio co-curated by Dr. Kelli Morgan and Jennifer Zwilling (curator at The Clay Studio). Park is well known for her high level of craftsmanship on the intricate, mostly child-like figures she creates. The various
expressions on the faces of her figures are overexaggerated, sometimes frozen mid-tantrum or mid-tears. And perhaps Park’s work is familiar to viewers because she is entering the next stage of her own development as an artist and an educator—she
is now a mid-career professional. Currently an associate professor at Endicott College in Beverly, Massachusetts, Park spoke candidly about her past, the struggle of being mid-career, and future aspirations.
Experiences and Expressions
Park’s art career started early. Since she was very young, she sculpted clay figures because she was deeply interested in clay animation. Her parents were supportive, and as her interest in art as a career grew, she left South Korea at 20 years
old and came to the US. She eventually earned her BFA degree from the New York State College of Ceramics at Alfred University in 2008, and her MFA degree from the University of Georgia in 2012. Shortly after, she was recognized as a 2015 Emerging
Artist by Ceramics Monthly, and a 2016 Emerging Artist by the National Council on Education for the Ceramic Arts (NCECA).
Park’s earlier work came from a great challenge, the language barrier. Although her ability to communicate in English was limited back then, she was able to express herself and her experiences through the faces of her figures. In works like Immoral Entanglements from
2014, Park employs the sculptures in a form of ceramic storytelling, a personal diary in clay. The characters depicted are young, and Park wants the viewer to settle into a child-like state of mind where, as she states, "we all have more in common.”
The Journey
In Park’s newest body of work, that desire to find what we have in common is still present, but stretched after the events of the past few years. Looking at her work now, through the lens of a global pandemic and the steep rise in racist violence
toward the Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) community, one can feel exhaustion, rage, and despair. For example, in One Bite at a Time, two of the faces seem to be slowly melting. The face at the bottom, which is much younger than
the others, is literally upside down. The apples, which serve as quintessential symbols of Americanness are injured, as shown by the bite marks, and cause injury, as shown by the apple deeply embedded in the skull of one of the figures. The title
of the work comes from the well-known riddle, “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” While this suggests that big problems and projects can be tackled step by step, Park’s figures dramatically represent the peril and emotional
toll of that journey.
Works like Meltdown and I am Asian feature the presence of a panda. In an interview with the Society of Arts and Crafts, Park explains this series was inspired by the popular internet meme, “Destroy Racism. Be like a Panda. He/She/They
are Black. He/ She/They are White. He/She/They are Asian.” Similar to how Park used child-like figures in early works to communicate shared experiences with viewers, she now uses the image of the much-beloved panda as a symbol of the internal
and external struggles of the Asian American community. In the work, I am Asian, the young person sits on the shoulders of one much older. The young figure is caught mid-scream and is angry. When asked about the facial expressions of her
figures, Park responded, “Maybe I am angry and mad about everything.” But as many know, anger is usually the visible face of grief. Park realizes that at a certain level, she may always be considered an outsider, “a resident alien
who belongs to another country,” even though the US is the place where she fully became herself as a person and an artist. This emotional depth is at the heart of Park’s current work. She states, “Our job is to talk about what is
going on. Art needs to make a statement.”
Finding Direction and Connection
Watching Park sculpt, one immediately becomes aware of someone who is confident and knowledgeable in her making. At any given point, Park will cut a hole in her figures to “adjust the volume.” She does this fearlessly. And as an art educator,
it is this ability to amplify the volume of her students’ voices that makes this next phase of her career as tenured faculty so exciting to her. She finds meaning and direction when she can convey to students that their input and their artwork
matter. Park finds art education to be very important, and she feels teaching art to non-majors is her contribution to the field of ceramics. In the long term, she sees herself developing an appreciation for art in students who one day may be collectors
and advocates for the arts in general.
At this stage in her career, Park craves interaction with other people, especially artists and students. She feels the most alive when she visits other schools, talks to artists, and gives demonstrations and lectures. She says, “As a mid-career
artist, there is pressure and to make something new as a maker, as an educator, and an artist, you need to have the drive.” And drive is always determined by the answer to a simple question—why are you making art? Park acknowledges that
her practice is always evolving. She is still struggling, still questioning, always changing. Her work in the very near future may not be the same, but she wants to make impactful art that can spark conversation.
Ultimately, artmaking has helped Park survive language, gender, and racial barriers. Because, as Park expresses beautifully, “You are making this because you want to. Art is my language. Sharing [art] is caring. Caring for others. Caring for the
world. I wouldn’t have survived without art. You survived because you are making. We are thriving because we are making.”
the author Joey Quiñones is an artist specializing in fibers and ceramics. They currently are the head of the fiber department and artist-in-residence at Cranbrook Academy of Art in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan.
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The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
Experiences and Expressions
Park’s art career started early. Since she was very young, she sculpted clay figures because she was deeply interested in clay animation. Her parents were supportive, and as her interest in art as a career grew, she left South Korea at 20 years old and came to the US. She eventually earned her BFA degree from the New York State College of Ceramics at Alfred University in 2008, and her MFA degree from the University of Georgia in 2012. Shortly after, she was recognized as a 2015 Emerging Artist by Ceramics Monthly, and a 2016 Emerging Artist by the National Council on Education for the Ceramic Arts (NCECA).
Park’s earlier work came from a great challenge, the language barrier. Although her ability to communicate in English was limited back then, she was able to express herself and her experiences through the faces of her figures. In works like Immoral Entanglements from 2014, Park employs the sculptures in a form of ceramic storytelling, a personal diary in clay. The characters depicted are young, and Park wants the viewer to settle into a child-like state of mind where, as she states, "we all have more in common.”
The Journey
In Park’s newest body of work, that desire to find what we have in common is still present, but stretched after the events of the past few years. Looking at her work now, through the lens of a global pandemic and the steep rise in racist violence toward the Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) community, one can feel exhaustion, rage, and despair. For example, in One Bite at a Time, two of the faces seem to be slowly melting. The face at the bottom, which is much younger than the others, is literally upside down. The apples, which serve as quintessential symbols of Americanness are injured, as shown by the bite marks, and cause injury, as shown by the apple deeply embedded in the skull of one of the figures. The title of the work comes from the well-known riddle, “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” While this suggests that big problems and projects can be tackled step by step, Park’s figures dramatically represent the peril and emotional toll of that journey.
Works like Meltdown and I am Asian feature the presence of a panda. In an interview with the Society of Arts and Crafts, Park explains this series was inspired by the popular internet meme, “Destroy Racism. Be like a Panda. He/She/They are Black. He/ She/They are White. He/She/They are Asian.” Similar to how Park used child-like figures in early works to communicate shared experiences with viewers, she now uses the image of the much-beloved panda as a symbol of the internal and external struggles of the Asian American community. In the work, I am Asian, the young person sits on the shoulders of one much older. The young figure is caught mid-scream and is angry. When asked about the facial expressions of her figures, Park responded, “Maybe I am angry and mad about everything.” But as many know, anger is usually the visible face of grief. Park realizes that at a certain level, she may always be considered an outsider, “a resident alien who belongs to another country,” even though the US is the place where she fully became herself as a person and an artist. This emotional depth is at the heart of Park’s current work. She states, “Our job is to talk about what is going on. Art needs to make a statement.”
Finding Direction and Connection
Watching Park sculpt, one immediately becomes aware of someone who is confident and knowledgeable in her making. At any given point, Park will cut a hole in her figures to “adjust the volume.” She does this fearlessly. And as an art educator, it is this ability to amplify the volume of her students’ voices that makes this next phase of her career as tenured faculty so exciting to her. She finds meaning and direction when she can convey to students that their input and their artwork matter. Park finds art education to be very important, and she feels teaching art to non-majors is her contribution to the field of ceramics. In the long term, she sees herself developing an appreciation for art in students who one day may be collectors and advocates for the arts in general.
At this stage in her career, Park craves interaction with other people, especially artists and students. She feels the most alive when she visits other schools, talks to artists, and gives demonstrations and lectures. She says, “As a mid-career artist, there is pressure and to make something new as a maker, as an educator, and an artist, you need to have the drive.” And drive is always determined by the answer to a simple question—why are you making art? Park acknowledges that her practice is always evolving. She is still struggling, still questioning, always changing. Her work in the very near future may not be the same, but she wants to make impactful art that can spark conversation.
Ultimately, artmaking has helped Park survive language, gender, and racial barriers. Because, as Park expresses beautifully, “You are making this because you want to. Art is my language. Sharing [art] is caring. Caring for others. Caring for the world. I wouldn’t have survived without art. You survived because you are making. We are thriving because we are making.”
the author Joey Quiñones is an artist specializing in fibers and ceramics. They currently are the head of the fiber department and artist-in-residence at Cranbrook Academy of Art in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan.
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