Part 2 - SUMITOMO Fumihiko and CHO Hyesu: Experiments for Conviviality
- Cho Hyesu
- Oct 11, 2024
- 20 min read
Updated: Oct 22, 2024
October 11, 2024
In this enlightening dialogue between curators Fumihiko Sumitomo and Hyesu Cho, we explore personal histories, curatorial practices, and the interconnectedness of art, society, and the environment. The interview is structured into two parts: the first examines hidden narratives in the artistic process and the evolving role of museums, while the second focuses on food and agriculture as mediums for community engagement and artistic expression.
Fumihiko reflects on his journey from media art to regional projects in Japan, highlighting the influence of local communities on his work. Hyesu shares her experiences curating projects that blend art with activism, using food to bridge cultures, and exploring themes of migration, identity, and feminism. Together, they emphasize the importance of creating spaces for individuals—artists, curators, and community members—to share their stories, fostering personal and collective understanding.
This interview, part of the Curator on Curator series, thoughtfully explores how art and curatorial practices can deepen social engagement and highlights the role of collaboration in bridging divides.
This conversation was conducted at the Sumitomo Laboratory of the Tokyo University of Arts in September 2024.
Fumihiko: ...Hyesu, you also did a food exhibition. I would love to hear about that. Why did you decide to make food the theme of the exhibition?
Hyesu: You're referring to the exhibition "Kitchen Crossing the Ocean: SIKGU," right? I focused on the aspects of identity and movement that exist behind food. This exhibition was created through discussions among the Chinese curator JIN Qiuyu, the Japanese curator TANAKA Naoko, and myself.
At first, we just wanted to have fun enjoying delicious food together (laughs). It all started simply because the food in Kyushu was so delicious. This response may sound naive, but I believe that the experience of finding something delicious in an unfamiliar place is both genuine and profoundly significant.
You personally love oranges the most, right? I believe that these tastes might have influenced the project as well.
Anyway, the two curators and I started to wonder why the flavors of the food in this area were different, so we decided to do a bit of research. However, it wasn't about finding answers for the exhibition;
we wanted to talk while eating with people. For example, the famous dish "Motsunabe," which is a specialty of Fukuoka, is said to have originated from what Korean laborers working in the mines used to eat. Similarly, the local specialty "Mentai" also comes from the Korean Peninsula. The Fukuoka region has many cultural influences from China, and there are many things that have come through the Korean Peninsula for a long time. This is proof that people have been on the move, and by researching the stories of those who have traveled, we can also discuss contemporary issues. Ultimately, curation is all about the power of discovering something new.
That's why the title of this exhibition is "Kitchen Crossing the Ocean: SIKGU." Food knows no borders. In Korean, SIKGU (식구, 食口) refers to all kinds of family-like relationships, but it doesn’t necessarily mean blood relations. Especially if you share a meal under the same roof, everyone becomes part of the SIKGU. From this, we can illustrate concepts of migration and contemporary relationships.
I also invited Yujin Lee, who is based in Jeju, and KIM Dohee, who is from Busan, to conduct a residency and collaborate through the exhibition.
Fumihiko:
I mentioned earlier that I think of an exhibition as a place where people can look at things and talk about them. There were several tables lined up when you entered the room with pictures created during the workshop being a major element on the table. It was a very good environment to talk with someone.
The reason why I think this is a good idea is that when so many things are crammed into a space and the works and the message of the exhibition fill it to the point where there is no room to talk, there is no room to think about anything. Therefore, I think it is very important to be able to talk with people you don't know at all when you see an exhibition or sit in a chair. Did you ever think about how to use the space or how to create a dialogue among visitors?
Hyesu:
Yes, of course. What you just mentioned is about Yujin's tablecloth. That tablecloth is actually a piece that has been exhibited elsewhere before. The other works are commissioned pieces specifically for this exhibition. One interesting feature of that tablecloth is that it can be transformed depending on how it is used. It can serve as both a curtain and a tablecloth. So, It was completely understandable that it is a work created to establish a space.
IV Special x Yujin Lee: Special Edition Cushion, made with "Painting Conversation" from "Stories of Rice-Thieves (2023)." These works were featured in "Kitchen across the Ocean: SIKGU (2023)" curated by EAG (Hyesu Cho, Naoko Tanaka, Qiuyu Jin)
Fumihiko: I was sitting at a table with a complete stranger while waiting for the performance to start. The tablecloth was also painted by someone I didn't know, so I had to talk with the person next to me to find out what it was. If it had been a framed painting, I think I would have been more conscious of my knowledge of the painting when conversing with them. Just having it on the table made it easier to talk about it.
Hyesu:
I believe the most appealing aspect of Yujin's work is that it gets dirty. It’s an art piece that can become soiled, and then you can wash it and change it again.
Fumihiko:
That also brings us closer together psychologically.
Yujin Lee’s Audience Participatory Performance “Life is like a (Box of Chocolates or) Bento” (2023)
In the center of the photo, Yujin Lee is sitting while CHO Hyesu stands facing her. (Sep 2023)
The performance workshop was conducted using ingredients from Fukuoka and Jeju.
TANAKA Naoko and Yujin Lee are serving food to the participants.
Hyesu: I’ve never really felt much connection to things that are overly protected or treated as sacred. That's why everything in that exhibition was meant to be touched and used. In fact, the tablecloth can even be used to play a game. Although this wasn’t officially part of the exhibition, there is also a Chinese fortune-telling game drawn on the tablecloth, so anyone sitting there could actually play a game.
And the table mats placed on top of it are part of a commissioned work titled "Painting Conversation: Stories of Rice-Thieves." A lot of conversations were layered into this piece during its creation. Before the exhibition, Yujin visited Fukuoka to hold a discussion with nine people about the theme of "rice-thieves." Together, they created these paintings. (The process can be seen in the following exhibition's making video.) Combined with the nine pieces made in Jeju, the artwork consists of 18 pieces in total. The participants were all people who had moved from elsewhere to live in Fukuoka or Jeju. They shared stories about their favorite "rice thief" dishes, and the meals they found most delicious.
The paintings were made into table mats and used during a performance where people had meals at the exhibition. Visitors could drink tea, eat meals, and even take home recipes inspired by the conversations around each artwork, allowing them to cook the same dishes at home. These paintings have since been turned into pillows by Iron Velvet, and the proceeds from their sale are donated to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund (PCRF).At the time, Yujin and I discussed whether we should sell the pieces, but we hadn’t decided yet. Now, I think it's a fitting conclusion for the "rice-thief" paintings to spread out like the recipes of Fukuoka and Jeju’s migration stories, contributing to those who’ve lost their homes due to war.
Process of "Painting Conversation: Stories of Rice-Thieves." (Aug 2023)
Yujin and the participants are seated face-to-face in a 1:1 setup, discussing "Rice-Thieves/Bap-Doduk" (a dish that is so delicious it makes you want to eat rice) while drawing, with Hyesu providing an interpretation between Korean and Japanese.
Fumihiko: Did you have time to talk with visitors to the exhibition?
Hyesu: Yes, a lot. Food is something that everyone can easily talk about, right? Because it's something anyone can discuss, I also found it enjoyable. The most common question I get asked in Japan as a foreigner is, "What's your favorite food?" In a way, it's a typical question, but it's actually quite profound. When you think about it, food is closely tied to one's identity.
Fumihiko: It is not really the familiarity of the food that is important, but rather its connection to identity and memory. People tend to think that the food is used only to lower the hurdle of accessibility by saying that anyone need not be nervous or that it is familiar, but in reality, the interesting thing is that through the food, conversations about society and politics are exchanged, and the visitors' impressions and reactions are generated. I think this is what makes it interesting.
Hyesu: Also, another artist, KIM Dohee incorporated her grandfather’s story, who worked on Japanese ships during the colonial era, into her work. The Japanese nautical terms used in Busan have persisted because they were used for labor. That's why I think language is like food—it’s something we use daily, and it stays with our bodies. Reflecting now, I realize that through that exhibition, I naturally started thinking about my situation of using Japanese, my grandmother who was a Zainichi Korean, and the history of Zainichi Koreans.
Students from Chōsen gakkō (Korean international school) are engaged in conversation.
Fumihiko: It's not what you have researched and exhibited, but it seems that by exhibiting, you will have more and more things to think about next.
Hyesu: Especially regarding people who move, I hadn't really intended to investigate them in the past, but when I look at what I've done so far, I realize that keywords like "movement" and "migration" frequently appear. The movement itself is a physical act. It’s about deciding which direction to move your body, and that decision is connected to asserting oneself. The issue of bodily autonomy is, of course, related to feminism and colonialism. In the end, creating an exhibition might be about exploring your own direction.
Education / Listening
Hyesu: Also, you mentioned learning something from your students and how things "become an exhibition," as you said earlier.
You are a professor in a curation course. Do you think curation is something that can be taught?
Fumihiko:
I don't think that art, not just curation, should be taught in an academic system. So I think it is much better for students to read books and go on a journey. That is, by reading books, you are exposed to a variety of knowledge, that is, not specific knowledge, but a wide range of knowledge, and by traveling, you will meet people with cultures and values other than what you are surrounded by. I think it is more important to have such experiences, so I think there is a limit to what can be taught within the university system. On the other hand, reading books and traveling are privileged activities for some people.
So I believe that universities have a role, but Japanese society is very closed, and I think that is the same for both museums and universities. I think it is very valuable to have a graduate school where I work, where students from abroad can come and talk together about…for instance, censorship. I think it is meaningful to know that in order to understand other people's perspectives and society. Some time ago, the CIMAM Annual Meeting was held in Tokyo, and I was asked to write a report, so I attended the program. During the Q&A session of the symposium, when the topic of censorship came up, a person in the audience raised his hand and said, “I am from China,” and the panelist on stage, a French art historian, smiled bitterly. I sensed a prejudice against Chinese people, who are known for their “lack of freedom,” talking about censorship. But then the person who asked the question went on to talk about how complicated it is to get around censorship in China, an opinion that made me think that he knew much more about censorship than someone in a free country with no censorship.
I think the environment in which I teach is very good in that I am exposed to different perspectives and values. This year, for the first time since I came to this school, I taught a class on Japanese postwar art, and I used to think that talking about the history of a single country was not appropriate for this course. However, when I looked back at Japanese postwar art based on my several years of thinking about Asian art with my students, I realized that I could create a completely different narrative. This is a big learning experience for me.
Hyesu: I’ve also had many realizations since coming to Japan. The relationship between Japan and Korea is very complicated. It's not just about issues like whether to apologize for the imperial past, but we need to closely examine how we should move forward with discussions in the future.
Recently, a Japanese friend told me she wants to organize a study group where both international students and Japanese people can gather to talk about the war, especially with August 15th approaching. August 15th is the day Japan was defeated due to the U.S. atomic bombings, while for Korea, it marks Liberation Day, the end of Japanese colonial rule. I believe having an environment where such discussions can take place is really important.
Fumihiko: As such a place, of course the university has a role to play. Even though it is not sufficient to teach that art, as you say, people from different communities to discuss issues as complex and ethical as war memories. It would be nice if the university could become such a place. I would like museums and the arts to become such places too.
It is difficult to proceed with that when you have national, organizational, or ideological principles. When you represent something, you are not an individual, right? I think that this limits our ability to imagine other people when we discuss issues. If we don't have to follow such principles, I think people are quite capable of listening to what we have to say. When one hears an opinion that differs from one’s own, there are those who immediately want to put on disagreement, but I think that when we become individuals, we can actually listen to what is being said. I am also interested in “listening” and have curated one exhibition.
I think the limit of university is maybe a 90 minute class or 15 classes. Listening to people is a very time-consuming process, so if there is an environment where that can be done, it might be possible to properly listen to what each individual is thinking.
So that's what makes study groups and art projects so appealing. When I work with farmers in my current art project, I spend a great deal of time listening to them talk about the various ideas they are currently holding. When people are asked about what they are doing and how they think, they are able to affirm themselves.
I think there are a lot of people who probably haven't been asked how they think and feel that someone else is re-presenting them.
Future
Fumihiko: Are you interested in doing such exhibitions or art projects? Have you done such projects in the past?
Hyesu: Yes, I have done several things, but to introduce one, I held an exhibition titled "!Two Weeks Notice!"
Right after graduating from university, I didn't have much money, so I lived in a housing complex that was set for redevelopment. It was the kind of place where construction was imminent, but no one knew exactly when it would happen. Because of that, the rent was extremely cheap. I spent two happy years living there, but one day, on my way home, I saw a large notice posted. It was May at the time, and the message was from the local government, telling all residents to move out by August. The complex was very old, named "Olympic Town" because it had been built around the time of the 1988 Olympics. Many of the residents were elderly women who had been living there for over 30 years.
Though we didn’t have anywhere to go, I thought to myself, "If everything's going to be demolished, maybe we can use this place freely for the next three months." So, I started by using my own home, and I also got permission from other residents in the complex to proceed with my project. We created and exhibited art during that time and made many great memories with various artists. But my fondest memory is simply the view from the balcony of my first-floor apartment. Sitting inside, I could hear all the sounds from outside during seeing the artworks, like people moving out. When I first set up a sitting area in front of the apartment, the elderly ladies would always sit there and chat.
Fumihiko: Sounds great!
Outdoor exhibition scene. Artwork by JIN JU. The artworks utilized both the interior and exterior, extending to the apartment complex connected to the room where Hyesu was living at the time. (July 2020)
A photo captures the scene of artists and residents sharing boiled corn, prepared by an elderly resident, outdoors. It was right after the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, and while the government issued guidelines to stay indoors, the residents of this complex were forced to leave their homes within a limited time frame. Every day felt like a farewell party of sorts. (July 2020)
Hyesu: There, I would eat and talk with the artists and the residents of the apartment complex, and play until night. I was the one who stayed until the last day of the notice. This was because, at the time I was planning the exhibition, I happened to meet an elderly lady living on the third floor in my apartment stairwell. She said to me, “When are you moving out, young lady? I’m scared of being alone.” Without thinking, I replied, “I’ll stay until the last day.” So, I held a two-week exhibition that counted down from D-14. That is why the title is. Although I had to close one day early due to pressure from the redevelopment association. Since this location already had conflicts due to redevelopment, I felt that this exhibition brought deeper issues to the surface. Even though it was an activity that didn’t harm anyone, those in favor of redevelopment didn’t like this exhibition. Every morning, the posters were torn down, and I had to reattach them.
The proceeds from the exhibition were used to buy food for the stray cats that would come to the complex until construction began, even after people had left. A elderly woman who helped a lot with this exhibition was sad to leave behind the cats she fed in the empty complex.
Despite being a building still inhabited by people, a warning notice has been posted. Next door, in Room 104, the exhibition "!Two Weeks Notice!" is taking place. The warning states: "This building is undergoing demolition work. Unauthorized entry, littering, and vandalism of this notice will be subject to penalties." (July 2020)
Despite having received permission, the exhibition poster was torn overnight. (July 2020)
Fumihiko: That was a very good experience.
Do you have any ideas for exhibitions or art projects you would like to do in the future?
Hyesu: Currently, I am developing a platform called The Ghost Project. I am conceptualizing it as a gateway for artistic practices that engage with phenomena that have been "ghosted" or rendered invisible. Now we are creating a modern version of the Hyakumonogatari (One Hundred Stories) in line with this year's Halloween.
The Hyakumonogatari refers to a traditional Japanese storytelling event where people gather to share ghost stories. With each story, a candle is extinguished, and it was believed that something would happen when the final tale is told, leaving the room in complete darkness. I have incorporated this motif by inviting creators from various countries to craft contemporary ghost stories, which will be compiled online. Legends and rumors surrounding ghosts, monsters, and yokai often represent the distorted final forms of those marginalized in society. For example, the Korean Cheo-nyeo-gwisin is a vengeful spirit that punishes men due to the resentment of not being able to marry while alive. Similarly, the Japanese concept of oni can be seen as a manifestation of discrimination against the Ainu people. I believe that the ghosts created by contemporary artists can reflect the current social structures. This project is set to be officially released this Halloween.
Additionally, I explore the theme of labor and life. As an independent curator, I also work as a foreign cleaning laborer in Tokyo. Every weekday morning, I work at a garbage disposal site in a Japanese apartment complex. This job is my choice I made to distance myself from the art world. My experiences in cleaning labor are detailed in the upcoming publication, The Center Lies on the Outside: Rirkrit Tiravanija and the Art of Noji (2024, Croma Editions), which is scheduled for release this November.
Through this work, I reflect on the approaches to labor taken by women artists of the past and find a sense of dissonance that is both similar to and different from today’s realities. Works like Mierle Laderman Ukeles’ Maintenance Art series and Maja Ekelöf’s Rapport från en skurhink are empowering, yet they continue to raise questions that remain relevant today. Whether this reflection will evolve into an actual project is still uncertain.
Fumihiko: Even if the output isn't a paper or an exhibition, it's undeniable that the experiences will have an impact later on. Being asked to present something every time is a flaw in today’s society. There are many things whose meaning becomes clear only later.
Hyesu: That’s true. Of course, I recognize that my situation is different from those who have no choice but to take this job as a full-time position. However, in my own experience, I feel more stable doing this work than I did when I was solely focused on contemporary art. That might be because of the current systemic structure of contemporary art. That’s why I believe it’s perfectly fine to be both a curator and a cleaning woman. Cleaning workers are experts who understand the various aspects of life better than even curators do. I’m not sure if this experience will offer me insights into what a “sustainable museum” should look like, but when it comes to managing the huge amount of waste generated after an exhibition, I might actually know more than the curators who planned the show. And instead of constantly chasing something to exhibit, I believe creativity emerges naturally while doing something practical.
A scene of meticulous waste separation in Japan.
Yet behind it, there are still the cleaning workers (often older individuals or foreigners).
Fumihiko: It is certainly best if you can do an exhibition when you really feel it is necessary, rather than doing a lot of exhibitions as a job.
For example, I have done many exhibitions over the past 25 years, some of which were large scale exhibitions that cost a lot of money, and some of which were really small exhibitions that cost only a few hundred thousand yen. If you ask me which was more rewarding or interesting, I would say that it wasn't necessarily the big ones. I think it is important to have an appropriate period of preparation and to enjoy the process of creating something new. As long as you can make such a commitment carefully, and through the exhibition you can have various dialogues.
Hyesu: Yes, exactly. I find it disheartening when, in large exhibitions or projects, staff morale is exploited in order to afford inviting renowned artists. The term “good curator” often seems to refer to someone with the ability to attract “star artists.” There are exhibitions that rely heavily on the curator’s name, as if simply having the connections to bring in certain artists is enough. Similarly, there are foundations and organizations that bring in big-name directors without much context, naively hoping for a successful result.
There was a time when I might have been dazzled by that kind of star power, but the unstable environment driven by market capitalism and the authority of a select few causes talented colleagues to leave the industry every day. In the long run, this not only harms the art market now, but it will also have lasting consequences in the future.
Fumihiko: Many people wonder if the model of museums and international exhibitions that spread throughout the world in the 20th century will continue forever. In fact, new models are being practiced here and there. However, the old model is supported by government cultural policy, taxes, and the value demanded by the market, and that will not change easily. But I think that art practices that can bring about such experiences as freedom from one's own assumptions or affirmation of marginalized positions, no matter how small, are valuable, even if they do not gain immediate recognition. Moreover, the art world and new models are not disconnected, but rather a continuum in my opinion. documenta 15 is a good example of this. Even though there are many people who cannot accept it now, I am sure it will change.
Recently, artists who are interested in climate change, non-human, feminism, etc. are attracting attention, and the themes of their exhibitions are increasing. While it is important that the world's attention is focused on those issues that were not considered important before, I do not believe that any particular trend or concept is more important than others in the practice of art. Rather, it is when these specific trends are emphasized that it is important to consider what is being overlooked. I understand very well the discomfort you have with the current model, but is there anything you wish would happen?
Hyesu: As you mentioned, themes that were once overlooked have now made their way into art museums. In fact, those previously unnoticed themes have become part of the trending discourse. These ideas gradually surfaced through the voices of people who continued to speak out, even when they weren’t recognized. And even now, there are new voices we might still be missing.
The fact that these themes are now present in museums suggests that there are likely entirely different ways of thinking outside those institutions that go beyond them. Public engagement with these themes usually happens only after they’ve gained some level of acceptance, which also implies that they no longer pose a direct threat to authority.
While I wouldn’t say that the process of marginalized discourses becoming part of the mainstream is unimportant, it’s just as crucial to bridge the gap between people’s lived experiences and institutional narratives. No matter how valuable a message is, when too many people start repeating it mindlessly, it becomes harder to hear the subtle voices behind it. Discussions about minorities often get turned into grand theories.
It’s hard to give a definitive answer on how institutions should change at this moment, but my goal is to move beyond simply imitating the language of others. I want to create a practical environment where I can focus more on the things that are closer to me. To do that, we need to see, hear, and feel more.
A view of garden at Next Door to the Museum Jeju by Lee Yujin.
Screenshot from Yujin’s instagram @jejuanarchist
Fumihiko: I am very interested in how people talk about the experience of seeing and participating in a work of art, as well as the valuing of the work and its history. It is not about aesthetics or art history knowledge, but I am interested in how personal experiences and knowledge are talked about and shared.
Recently, I stayed at a residency in Jeju Island run by Lee Yujin, who was participating in”Kitchen crossing the ocean: SIKGU”. On the wall of the room where I stayed, there was a quote by Eduard Glissant: “Exalt the heat and grow stronger from it. Your thinking will blaze. Air-conditioners ought to be detested.”
It was just as it should be in the heat of the southern islands. Yujin grows her plants with the least amount of care, and her garden was beautiful. She may not be a serious practitioner of agriculture, but it was a place where you could feel the various kinds of life and no-life supporting each other.
There, we talked a lot, visiting places such as war-related sites from the Japanese colonial period and the 1950 genocide. We also talked about contemporary issues such as marine base controversy and young people who are campaigning against them, tourists and immigrants who have increased since visas are no longer required, delicious seafood from the sea, music and family matters of mutual interest, and other topics of conversation between people of different generations and backgrounds while viewing artwork, driving around, and eating dinner.
I have no plans to plan an exhibition or write a paper based on these conversations. However, what was exchanged in that conversation definitely influenced my thoughts and curatorial practices.
Sumitomo Fumihiko
Sumitomo Fumihiko is a curator/professor at the Graduate School of Global Arts, Tokyo University of the Arts. Director of Arts Maebashi from 2013 to 2021, where he curated Listening: Resonant Worlds (2020), The Ecology of Expression - Remaking Our Relations with the World (2019) and Foodscape: We Are What We Eat (2016). He curated Post Nature: Dear Nature (Ulsan Art Museum, 2022), Demarcation: Akira Takayama / Meiro Koizumi (Maison Hermès Le Forum, 2015), Aichi Triennale 2013, Media City Seoul 2010, and Beautiful New World: Contemporary Visual Culture from Japan (798 Dashanzi Art District / Guangdong Museum of Art, 2007). As a senior curator at Museum of Contemporary Art, Tokyo (MOT), he curated the exhibition Tadashi Kawamata: Walkway (2008). He also curated the exhibitions Art Meets Media: Adventure in Perception (2005) and Possible Futures: Japanese Postwar Art and Technology (2005) at NTT InterCommunication Center (ICC) in Tokyo. He is co-editor of From Postwar to Postmodern, Art in Japan 1945-1989: Primary Documents (Museum of Modern Art New York / Duke University Press, 2012) and a founding member of Arts Initiative Tokyo (AIT).
Cho Hyesu
Cho Hyesu is an independent curator based in South Korea and Japan. She is the founder of The Ghost Project and hosts the Witch Pot Podcast. She joyfully rides the waves at the intersection of literature and art, while also publishing writings from a feminist perspective. Her curatorial work includes Kitchen Across the Ocean: SIKGU (2023), Virtual Bodies: Absence/Presence in Media (2022), !Two Weeks Notice! (2020), The Body of Stranger (2020), HumanExhibitsExhibitsHuman (2017), and Line on Boundary MOHO(;Ambiguous) HOMO (2016), among others. She has been involved with international art events, including the Busan Biennale 2020, and has contributed as a researcher to the foundational planning of several local art festivals in South Korea. She is also active as an interpreter and translator within the Korean and Japanese art scenes. In 2024, she was featured as one of the "Special Features: New Face from the World – Young Powers 31" by Art in Culture, one of Korea's leading art magazines (February 2024 issue). Currently, she is a PhD student at the Department of Art Studies and Curatorial Practices, Graduate School of Global Arts, Tokyo University of the Arts.