Yona Lee's Situational Rhythms at Gertrude Contemporary

A compelling exploration of space unfolds in Yona Lee's latest exhibition, where her intricate installations blur the boundaries between public and private space.

Yona Lee is a South Korean-born, Aotearoa-based artist known for her site-specific installations made of industrial and domestic objects. Her practice provides a framework for the re-imagining of conventional understandings of both domestic and urban environments, highlighting familiar aesthetic cues within a refined visual language.

Using modular structures and interconnected networks of steel, Lee creates large installations that seem to portray a system, a state of flux, or even entropic forces. These sizeable structures have become Lee's spatial oeuvre, united by the prevalent stainless-steel tubing that is reminiscent of handrails and barriers in dense urban environments that encourage efficient and safe transit.

Taking on a more intimate tone is Lee's solo exhibition in Naarm/Melbourne, Wall, Floor and Ceiling (24 June–27 August 2023) presented at Gertrude Contemporary. Curated by Gertrude's artistic director Mark Feary, the exhibition consists of an ensemble of three distinct, small-scale sculptural installations presented in the one gallery space. As the title reflects, one sculpture is anchored to the wall, one to the ceiling, and one the floor.

The sculpture titled Clock Bench (2023) is located in the middle of the rear-end of the gallery space and consists of a freestanding quasi-bench with white panelling, equipped with an archetypal clock underneath the seat and enveloped by a refined stainless steel tubing.

Emerging from the ceiling is Bus Chandelier (2023), a separate series of interconnected stainless-steel tubes punctuated by seven blue bus handles hanging at various lengths. On the left of the gallery's entrance is Lamp (2023), a warm-toned domestic wall lamp and shade framed loosely in an elegant web of steel tubing.

Much of Lee's practice to date has been described as exploring the intertwined relationship between globalisation with concepts of transit and belonging, and that between public and private spaces. But what is equally interesting is Lee's background as a trained classical cellist.

In 2011, Yona Lee played her cello in front of her work Constrained Organism (2011) at Govett-Brewster Art Gallery in New Plymouth. In the following year, at Artspace Aotearoa, she worked with sound artist James McCarthy to 'play' the steel rods in her work, Line Works (2012), with an elegant cello bow.

Lee's musical background prompts the questions, how do musicians and sound artists imagine, participate in, and respond to visual cues found within physical space? How could one visualise an environmental sensibility that is directly influenced by the training of rhythm and melody, and how could this influence how we engage with both public and private space?

When reflecting on Lee's work, the work of the French philosopher Henri Lefebvre comes to mind—specifically his text Rhythmanalysis: Space, Time and Everyday Life (1992), in which Lefebvre considers the study of rhythms, their interplay, and their impact on our social and spatial existence.

Lefebvre argued that by examining the underlying rhythms that structure our everyday lives, we can learn more about society, paving the way for a more conscious and transformative engagement both interpersonally, and with the world.

It is possible to read Lee's work within this framework—specifically, the interplay between the body and domestic and urban environments. Considering the artist's musical background in conjunction with the intimate scale of the works in Wall, Floor and Ceiling and their sparse placement across the gallery, this exhibition could be just as much about the silence and breathing space provided by this particular installation approach, as it is about what these particular sculptures represent in and of themselves.

In this vein, could Lee's Wall, Floor and Ceiling be a proposal for an empty orchestra house, waiting to be filled with warm bodies, their movements and sounds? It does seem as though visitors move naturally through the installations to interact with them, and this participatory aspect further emphasises the idea that our experience of Lee's work is not fixed but rather dependent on our movements between each of the three works.

Overall, Lee's works challenge the way we perceive and inhabit space in our daily lives. They prompt us to question the stability and rigidity often associated with urban environments, encouraging a more fluid understanding of our surroundings, and perhaps an increased bleed between the domestic and public. Lee's installations remind us that, in particular, urban spaces are not static entities, but complex songs that need to be played—they are subject to constant change, adaptation, and the influence of human presence and movement. —[O]