Dream A Little Dream Of Me

The Ultra Trippy Sculptures Of Choi Xoo

Death by Party | The Ultra Trippy Sculptures Of Choi Xoo

When awake from a dream, there is oft no resolution betwixt that which is lifelike, and what is as yet the indiscernibly outlandish. The very first moments, those resplendent seconds after we’re roiled awake from a particularly interesting dream may stick with us during the rest of the day, covering us like a gossamer blanket as if we’re still vista-gazing through the dreamscape. This is why Surrealism was established as the art world’s communique for the contradictory elements of vivid imagination and stark reality. The hyper-realized, surrealistic sculptures of the immensely talented South Korean artist Choi Xoo succeed in preserving that tiny, temporal window of post-dream minutes and entreats us to jump out of it. How far the descent lies is entirely contingent upon you.

Our apperceptions of these pieces are as varied as the nocturnal transmissions they harken back to. Whilst the creative-slumbering process is singularly bereft of all control, our life details that inspire each nightly theatre troupe to perform, however servile, are pretty damn writ in stone. If our bodies spend a third of our lives in innocuous repose as our synapses constantly rend asunder our perceptions of reality, Xoo’s sculptures in their naked pedantry proffer our minds artistic sanatoria. In them, we can relax and lose ourselves, perhaps even making fleet sense of why it feels like we’re locking occipital lobes with a fully anthropomorphized dream that will canorously whisper self-revelations if we ask nicely.

Whenever I view these awesome installations, my boreal region becomes alight. I think of them as homes away from home. As a matter of fact, the night before I had received this assignment, I had dreamt about a few friends I love dearly. They appeared as disembodied heads, with slightly chubbier wan countenances and vague frowns pursed on their lips. They each had but one query as I sauntered through the dimly lit rooms of an empty nondescript house-‘Will you still love me when I look like this?’ Waking up, I was imbued with a morose sense of self. I am too judgmental? Everyone I looked at in public that day had slightly fatter faces and sad looks. After viewing these, I was awash with a sudden warmth (not attributed to the several Seven-and-Sevens I’d imbibed in toto.) The question was born not of my physical perception of others, but rather of how I view myself and what my hand is in such. Talk about Choi Xoo being a Visual Motor.

-Robert Kijowski


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