Chada
2021
Participatory Performance
+
Creative Coding
+
Poetry
Two microphones, two speakers
TouchDesigner system
TouchDesigner system
December 4-5, 9 2021, Fletcher Building #606, RISD
Two performers are seated back to back, facing speakers, playing back each other’s voices after a 10-second delay. The performers recite a poem together titled Between Autumn Equinox and Winter Solstice, Today, written by Emily Jungmin Yoon, a Korea-born American poet. Once they both finish reciting, the voices from 10 seconds ago linger in the room, between the performers. Similar to the Korean word 'chada,' which can simultaneously mean 'it is cold,' 'it is tea,' 'it is being filled up,' and many other things, the performance unveils the perceptual delay and untranslatability inherent in language. Furthermore, with the echoing and lingering voices between the performers, the performance caresses the poetry of untranslatability.
Two performers are seated back to back, facing speakers, playing back each other’s voices after a 10-second delay. The performers recite a poem together titled Between Autumn Equinox and Winter Solstice, Today, written by Emily Jungmin Yoon, a Korea-born American poet. Once they both finish reciting, the voices from 10 seconds ago linger in the room, between the performers. Similar to the Korean word 'chada,' which can simultaneously mean 'it is cold,' 'it is tea,' 'it is being filled up,' and many other things, the performance unveils the perceptual delay and untranslatability inherent in language. Furthermore, with the echoing and lingering voices between the performers, the performance caresses the poetry of untranslatability.
When Nostalgia Cannot Find the Closed Eyes, The Smallest Unit of Time Becomes Smaller and Smaller Infinitely.
(Telephone Game, 2021)
(Telephone Game, 2021)
"When Nostalgia Cannot Find the Closed Eyes, The Smallest Unit of Time Becomes Smaller and Smaller Infinitely. (Telephone Game)" is a practice in which I explored the delayed sensation of presentness. I recorded a sentence in my voice, then I gave it to my friend to listen to, and I asked him to repeat it as he heard it. Next, I gave his voice recording to another person and asked her to repeat it as she heard it. I repeated this 'telephone game' process twelve times with different people. Eventually, I created a layered version of twelve recordings at their exact starting times. The delay of each recording's starting point represents the inevitable delay that occurs when people are asked to speak as they hear it.
In this piece, the accumulated delays serve as metaphors for the present moment, which continuously transitions into the past. The errors that occurred during the original sentence's fragmentation serve as metaphors for reconstructive memory. While creating this piece, I was driven to explore how to transform this 'broken telephone game' into a real-time performative piece.
In this piece, the accumulated delays serve as metaphors for the present moment, which continuously transitions into the past. The errors that occurred during the original sentence's fragmentation serve as metaphors for reconstructive memory. While creating this piece, I was driven to explore how to transform this 'broken telephone game' into a real-time performative piece.
TouchDesigner system built for “Chada(2021)”
Between Autumn Equinox and Winter Solstice, Today
Emily Jungmin Yoon
I read a Korean poem
with the line “Today you are the youngest
you will ever be.” Today I am the oldest
I have been. Today we drink
buckwheat tea. Today I have heat
in my apartment. Today I think
about the word chada in Korean.
It means cold. It means to be filled with.
It means to kick. To wear. Today we’re worn.
Today you wear the cold. Your chilled skin.
My heart kicks on my skin. Someone said
winter has broken his windows. The heat inside
and the cold outside sent lightning across glass.
Today my heart wears you like curtains. Today
it fills with you. The window in my room
is full of leaves ready to fall. Chada, you say. It’s tea.
We drink. It is cold outside.
Emily Jungmin Yoon
I read a Korean poem
with the line “Today you are the youngest
you will ever be.” Today I am the oldest
I have been. Today we drink
buckwheat tea. Today I have heat
in my apartment. Today I think
about the word chada in Korean.
It means cold. It means to be filled with.
It means to kick. To wear. Today we’re worn.
Today you wear the cold. Your chilled skin.
My heart kicks on my skin. Someone said
winter has broken his windows. The heat inside
and the cold outside sent lightning across glass.
Today my heart wears you like curtains. Today
it fills with you. The window in my room
is full of leaves ready to fall. Chada, you say. It’s tea.
We drink. It is cold outside.
추분과 동지 사이, 오늘
에밀리 정민 윤
한국 시를 읽었다
이런 구절과 함께, 오늘은 앞으로의 일생에서
당신이 가장 어린 날. 오늘은 내가
여태껏 가장 늙은 날. 오늘 우리는
메밀차를 마신다. 오늘 나는
아파트 난방을 켰다. 오늘 나는
차다라는 한국어를 떠올린다.
차갑다라는 뜻. 채워지다라는 뜻.
찬다라는 뜻. 채운다라는 뜻. 오늘 우리는 지쳤다.
오늘 너는 추위를 입는다. 너의 차가워진 피부.
내 마음이 내 피부를 찬다. 누군가 말했어
겨울이 그의 창문들을 망가뜨렸다고. 내부의 열과
외부의 냉기가 유리에 벼락을 내렸다고.
오늘 내 마음은 너를 커튼처럼 감싼다. 오늘
내 마음은 너로 채워진다. 내 방 창문은
낙하를 앞둔 잎들로 가득 찼다. 차다, 네가 말한다. 차다.
우리는 마신다. 밖은 차다.
에밀리 정민 윤
한국 시를 읽었다
이런 구절과 함께, 오늘은 앞으로의 일생에서
당신이 가장 어린 날. 오늘은 내가
여태껏 가장 늙은 날. 오늘 우리는
메밀차를 마신다. 오늘 나는
아파트 난방을 켰다. 오늘 나는
차다라는 한국어를 떠올린다.
차갑다라는 뜻. 채워지다라는 뜻.
찬다라는 뜻. 채운다라는 뜻. 오늘 우리는 지쳤다.
오늘 너는 추위를 입는다. 너의 차가워진 피부.
내 마음이 내 피부를 찬다. 누군가 말했어
겨울이 그의 창문들을 망가뜨렸다고. 내부의 열과
외부의 냉기가 유리에 벼락을 내렸다고.
오늘 내 마음은 너를 커튼처럼 감싼다. 오늘
내 마음은 너로 채워진다. 내 방 창문은
낙하를 앞둔 잎들로 가득 찼다. 차다, 네가 말한다. 차다.
우리는 마신다. 밖은 차다.
Performance with Kamari Smalls, Jordan Metz, Christine Greer, Tess Oldfield, and Lilan Yang
December 4-5 2021, Fletcher Building #606, RISD
December 4-5 2021, Fletcher Building #606, RISD
Performance with Ann Lewis
December 9 2021, Fletcher Building #606, RISD
December 9 2021, Fletcher Building #606, RISD