Like a Rolling Stone
It seems tempting to use the title of Dylan’s song to illustrate this reflection on the exhibition of Won Jy, a Korean artist, who presents us with a deeply thought-provoking approach. The notion of a “rolling stone” comes from a Korean expression referring to the stone that rolls and dislodges the one that remains fixed — the very movement of life itself. Thus, Matelas presents itself as a bed for rest, but made of cast concrete containing limestone and granite stones. It also associates pebbles with the figure of the foreigner, gharib in Arabic. These migrations are followed by Won Jy, who takes part in various solidarity collectives and personally understands the experience of uprootedness. Chaussures de hammam, created from sandals coated with façade plaster, uses real artifacts abandoned by their temporary owners, thereby changing their status. He does not hesitate to investigate the places of origin, the people, and the harsh conditions of those who pass through and then vanish into other temporary shelters of the metropolis.
The visit begins in front of a split stone, placed on a pedestal and mischievously titled Origine du monde, due to its striking anatomical resemblance to Courbet’s painting. The title of the exhibition, Roulé-Lavé, is traced on the white wall. This reference to the construction world concerns gravel used in building sites. The phrase flirts with the idea of destruction, which produces another type of gravel. In fact, Won Jy offers a subtle process of deconstructing our mental frameworks through the use of humble materials—present in overwhelming quantities and often rendered invisible. Some of his works are situated within the very reality of demolition sites in the Pissevin district. Fontaine thus appears, composed of large discarded materials, forming a new assembly that mimics baroque fountains with multiple basins. The role of water as a site of transformation also holds significant importance in his broader approach.
The artist's eclectic output also includes another, more surprising approach: staging dead pigeons. Works generically titled Columbarium contain the remains of pigeons encased in epoxy resin. A formal parallel could be drawn with Tony Grand’s approach and his fish embedded in polyester laminate. Sometimes, the pigeons are placed in plastic boxes and gradually merge with the soil contained within. There is nothing morbid about this staging, but rather a questioning gaze on the eternal recycling of things and beings. Again, the artist’s experiences and memories are embedded in an analysis of how pigeons are perceived in our society—unloved, often hunted, and sometimes even exterminated.
So does Won Jy oscillate between the earth (rubble) and the sky (pigeons)? In fact, no—his perspective always compels us to turn toward the ground. To watch a video, benches made of terrazzo compel viewers not to sit but to settle directly on the stone, as they lack supporting legs. The winged animals are not flying, but rest—dead—in the soil or entombed in their resin casing. This unpretentious humility shifts our perception of things and leads us to question the human point of view. Long ago, ancient quadrupeds stood on two legs in the savannah and conquered the world. Yet only rubble remains after the fall of their proud towers. Won Jy teaches us the greatness of little. So be it.
The visit begins in front of a split stone, placed on a pedestal and mischievously titled Origine du monde, due to its striking anatomical resemblance to Courbet’s painting. The title of the exhibition, Roulé-Lavé, is traced on the white wall. This reference to the construction world concerns gravel used in building sites. The phrase flirts with the idea of destruction, which produces another type of gravel. In fact, Won Jy offers a subtle process of deconstructing our mental frameworks through the use of humble materials—present in overwhelming quantities and often rendered invisible. Some of his works are situated within the very reality of demolition sites in the Pissevin district. Fontaine thus appears, composed of large discarded materials, forming a new assembly that mimics baroque fountains with multiple basins. The role of water as a site of transformation also holds significant importance in his broader approach.
The artist's eclectic output also includes another, more surprising approach: staging dead pigeons. Works generically titled Columbarium contain the remains of pigeons encased in epoxy resin. A formal parallel could be drawn with Tony Grand’s approach and his fish embedded in polyester laminate. Sometimes, the pigeons are placed in plastic boxes and gradually merge with the soil contained within. There is nothing morbid about this staging, but rather a questioning gaze on the eternal recycling of things and beings. Again, the artist’s experiences and memories are embedded in an analysis of how pigeons are perceived in our society—unloved, often hunted, and sometimes even exterminated.
So does Won Jy oscillate between the earth (rubble) and the sky (pigeons)? In fact, no—his perspective always compels us to turn toward the ground. To watch a video, benches made of terrazzo compel viewers not to sit but to settle directly on the stone, as they lack supporting legs. The winged animals are not flying, but rest—dead—in the soil or entombed in their resin casing. This unpretentious humility shifts our perception of things and leads us to question the human point of view. Long ago, ancient quadrupeds stood on two legs in the savannah and conquered the world. Yet only rubble remains after the fall of their proud towers. Won Jy teaches us the greatness of little. So be it.