June Kim, Mom's Not Here , Glimmers portfolio
June Kim, Mom's Not Here , Glimmers portfolio
$1,500.00
Mom's Not Here, 2024, acrylic, gouache, spray paint on pigment print, 17" x 22" inches, $1,500
June Kim makes paintings, photographs, videos and installations that are inspired by the human and animal connection. She is best known for her performative photographs and videos of herself and her wolf-like dogs. The dogs appear in ways that are metaphorical as well as diaristic, and provide a portal to the mythical, mystical and primal. In addition, Kim conveys the concept of equity as it pertains to all living beings, promoting a greater understanding and empathy for the interconnectedness of life. Most recently, she has been working on documenting her mother who has Alzheimer’s. Kim received her MFA at Pratt Institute, and has exhibited in NY, LA, Paris, Seoul and Busan. She has been featured in magazines such as BOMB, Crush Fanzine, Fanzine, and VUU. Kim is faculty at the College of the Atlantic and splits her time between Maine, New York and California with her four huskies.
Glimmers
By June Kim
This gingerbread house - falling apart inside
Just like her mind and the emotions that I hide
Moments of awe and wonder
A memory, a time, a place
I don't know what she’s saying
but I nod with a smile on my face
She’s also gotten brazen -
talking to and touching strangers
Oblivious of any potential dangers
When I call for her she says
“Mom’s not here”
Her mom, my mom? It is unclear
Relying on obsessions and distractions
I get through it with a bit of positive traction
Then, there’s the glimmer of light
This body of work was spurred by my residency with Lights Out Gallery in the summer of 2024 in Norway, Maine. I spent a week in a Victorian-style inn with five other artists and we we given this unique opportunity to exhibit at The Gingerbread House, a historic landmark. I wanted to present something that either referenced Norway or the house, and ultimately decided on the house. Renovated on the outside, yet falling apart on the inside, I saw a parallel with my mother who has Alzheimer’s. While she looks healthy on the outside, her inside, specifically, her brain is deteriorating. Not only that, the interior of the house with its peel
wallpaper and paint, and broken walls felt abandoned and toxic - similar to human experiences of abandonment and toxicity. It also made me reflect on how I was dealing with this disease that is stealing my mother from me. Suppressing unwanted emotions and thoughts and replacing them with obsessions and distractions. And, yet in all this, there are glimmers of recognition, memories, and light.
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