Ingam Dojang

Today was a true rite of passage for me.

Having now lived in Korea for a few years, it suddenly became necessary for me to get an Ingam Dojang (인감도장) which is a registered personal seal or stamp used here to authenticate important legal documents, similar to a signature in Western contexts.

I chose a case for my seal decorated with the “Sipjangsaeng” the ten symbols of longevity. Sipjangsaeng (십장생) refers to the “Ten Symbols of Longevity” in Korean culture, a traditional motif representing eternal life, health, and happiness. The term combines “sip” (십), meaning “ten,” and “jangsaeng” (장생), meaning “long life.”

These symbols typically include the sun, mountains, water, clouds, pine trees, turtles, cranes, deer, bamboo, and plants of immortality.

With the help of a shop owner in nearby Hwado, we designed the seal. Given that I am not a Korean national, it was required to have my full name spelled out Western style. I only ever use my middle name “Enrique” in the context of official documents. And today was no exception.

Pictures from an exhibition

Yesterday was Opening Night for the exhibition “Expansión 15” organized by La Bienal de la Habana and installed at the Centro de Arte Contemporáneo Wilfredo Lam.

I wish I was there to hear Nelson Ramirez de Arellano’s introductory remarks and to celebrate with my fellow resident artists at Casa Naranja, Osmany, Natasha, Adrian and Rosa.

Most of all, I wish I had been there in person to welcome the audience and have a chance to hear their impressions of the work. And also, to take it all in myself, because CAC Wilfredo Lam is my favorite museum in Cuba and I had longed for many years to exhibit my photographs at that storied institution.

Habana holds a very special place in my heart and this exhibition- albeit in absentia - feels like a homecoming.

Opening Night in Habana

Ten photographs from my series “Quisicuaba”, commissioned for the 15th Bienal de La Habana, are included in the exhibition “Expansión de la Bienal”. 

The show opens 3/21 at Centro de Arte Contemporáneo Wilfredo Lam.

Saturday night in Munhori

My first Saturday night in Munhori. All is quiet around me. Gone are the neon lights, the heavy hum of street traffic, the feeling of looking down at the city from the far remove of a 15th floor balcony.

The darkness around me is broken only by the lit windows of a dozen or so neighboring houses.

I pour myself a glass of Zacapa, light my last Cuban cigar and step out onto our porch to think about all the changes our family is going through.

I get lost in a cloud of blue smoke, taste the sweetness and nostalgia for Guatemala in the rum and let the intoxication and reverie wash over me.

The red wheelbarrow

I’m a die-hard, life-long city dweller, urban-addict kind of guy. And yet, today we left the city for the countryside.

For the most part, the move is a function of being closer to Jaime Stay. But also, HRM and I know how much our kids love the natural world and we think their new life surrounded by mountains, valleys and streams on a daily basis will bring them great joy.

So we’re taking a leap of faith and trying this out.

Hello country life!

Brace

Two days ago a snowstorm rolled into town. The temperatures were double digits below zero Celsius and it was bitterly cold as we were walking back home with the boys at the end of the school day. The snow itself was powdery on the surface but there were invisible patches of ice underneath.

Just as we were about to reach our building, I slipped and hit the ground. My hands were busy with their book bags and I couldn’t break the fall properly. So I now have a torn ligament in my left hand and am looking at three weeks wearing this brace.

This morning we walked by the same spot were I fell. Without a word, Luca reached for my right hand and held it tightly in his, wanting to make sure I wouldn’t fall once again.

It reminded me of how in Korea parents are referred to in relation to their children; to anyone in the neighborhood, I’m not Jaime. I’m “Olin and Luca’s father”. I love hearing that. It always makes me think that people recognize that being their father is my greatest accomplishment.

My room in Quisicuaba

“I settle into a room equipped with a dozen beds. I choose one to sleep in and use another to lay out my belongings. Every morning, one of the residents, nicknamed “Camagüey”, knocks on my door and leaves me a bucket of hot water to bathe with.

We have conversations over breakfast. Sometimes I read a book or work on the portraits and texts. There are several couples who have met here. One of them, Olga and Liban, are passionate about drawing and writing. After a few days, they hand me illustrations on cardboard intended for the book’s cover and back cover, along with a portrait of myself where I appear with a large Olmec-style face, Slavic eyes, and the hat I wear every day.”

Guest book

Yesterday’s entry from our guest book at Jaime Stay is the landscape outside the windows of Luca House drawn using coffee instead of ink. The Korean script translates as “Drunk on the landscape”.

Did I mention we love our guests?

Happy Lunar New Year!

새해 복 많이 받으세요!

https://www.stayfolio.com/en/findstay/jaime-stay?utm_source=link&utm_medium=share&utm_campaign=findstay&utm_content=jaime-stay

Playlist

New year, new concept for our Gwanghapdan zines!

We have reimagined, redesigned and repurposed our zine making. Also, we are calling them “playlists” and they will be published quarterly.

Here’s a sneak peek at our Winter Playlist ;)

Artist Talk coming up at Wit and Cynical Bookstore in Seoul, Korea on Jan 24th 7:30PM. Free admission and free poster!

What if

In many ways, my days in Quisicuaba were an exercise in “what if”.

What if I had been a homeless person living on the streets of Havana? What if I had lost my job, family, my friends to an addiction I couldn’t escape? What if I had to accept eating food I had trouble swallowing day after day?

What if I had to leave everything behind to be able to begin to return to life itself?

Los pasos

Los pasos de un fotógrafo siempre acechan un eco por las calles de la ciudad. Su soledad busca un reflejo que lo transporte más allá de las ideas, a la intoxicación de respirar, sentir y observar.

Back from Cuba

I’m back from Cuba! And here’s a little postcard from Centro Habana.

More on my Artist Residence at Punto Naranja in Campamento Quisicuaba and the 2024 Bienal de la Habana in the coming weeks.

There’s a whole lot to unpack there,

and I don’t mean just my suitcase ;)

It was one of the most humbling, fascinating and intensely personal journeys of my life.

Bienal de la Habana

Tomorrow I travel to Cuba to work on a new commission from the Bienal de la Habana. I feel so honored to be an invited artist and to officially represent my native country, Guatemala.

My project is collaborative in nature. It will weave together photographs and text to create a collective book authored by myself and community residents in Campamento Quisicuaba, Punto Naranja, about an hour’s drive out of Havana.

As you probably know, Cuba is recovering from the extensive damages of Hurricane Rafael, and Punto Naranja is no exception. I’ll lend a hand where I can and make art when I can.

I’ll mostly be off the grid until I come back to Seoul in late November.

See you then!

Surprise

Sunday, 1:06 PM

Work doesn’t really care that I’m having an exhibition. Driving back from Yangpyeong, I step on the gas and manage to open up the gallery at Project K just a few minutes late.

_

Dongsin and Sun walk in. Why do I suddenly feel like it’s my birthday? The carefully wrapped package in Dongsin’s arms turns out to be an exquisitely crafted wooden side-table he’s made for me.

Sun leans in and whispers that he worked long and hard on it. She’s also brought a gift: specialty coffee from Huehuetenango, Guatemala. We view the exhibition.

Despite my limited Korean, I clearly understand when Dongsin says that the way I look at Korea is powerful and illuminating;

it means the world to me.

_

Family comes to see the exhibition, all smiles and encouragement. HRM’s cousin Chan Young is there too and when everyone else leaves, he stays on.

Then two of his friends come in to join him. The three of them discuss the work, sometimes in earnest and sometimes in jest. One of the women has very sharp eyes.

She asks me when the photograph of the dress shoes was taken. I remember it was spring time, possibly mid-May. She scrutinizes the photo and observes that the water-logged newspaper visible above the shoes is dated November of the previous year.

_

Andrey enters. He is a Russian curator and one of the founders of the Moscow Biennial. He’s been trying to make it to the gallery for the past three days and now he is finally here.

Chan Young and his friends circle back to us. They inform us they have titled all the works in the exhibition for me. I hand them a checklist and they pencil in the titles for each work next to the thumbnail view.

_

As Andrey is leaving, he says he would like to help introduce my work to Russian audiences.

_

Where did the time go? It’s a few minutes before closing already. I hear a rumor of approaching voices; the door shakes and rattles. Suddenly Olin and Luca are there, waving, smiling and laughing.

What a great and wonderful surprise that is.

Good night, gallery.

Saturday, 1PM.

I open up the gallery. A few months back, I had applied for their Curatorial Open Call and was awarded with a solo exhibition.

As a result, I now have real estate in Seoul; the space is mine for the next ten days.

There’s some wine bottles left over from the Opening the previous night. I wipe away the red glass rings on the table.

_

My friend Jeongmee walks through the door. I give her a tour of the exhibition and then we sit and talk about art, teaching, life in Korea, Cuba and New York City. I ask her about her new monograph, which has just been published.

_

A young woman enters. We speak in a mix of Korean and English. She can relate to the work: her sister married an American man and lives in Chicago. She felt overwhelmed and disoriented walking the streets of that city. Saying goodbye to me, she hesitates and then asks if I’d like to have lunch with her.

_

An older couple arrives. The man asks if it’s oK to take photos of my work. Later, he asks if I am happy with having only fifteen works in my exhibition.

_

A collector comes by, together with an opera singer. We talk editions and pricing but also what it means to sing in other languages.

_

A woman is gallery hopping on Saturday. She spends a good twenty minutes looking,

taking photos and some video as well. She asks me which is my favorite work in the show. We walk over to the photo of the dress shoes. I try to explain that although the shoes are well worn they are shined to a high gloss. And that there is something strangely intimate about them drying out on the street, late at night. There is more to say, much more. But my broken Korean will not do for that. We take a selfie together. She smiles again and bows to me as she leaves.

Later, she comes back in. She hands me a bouquet of flowers with a hand written note.

I can’t believe such kindness and I feel the emotion welling up inside.

_

The day winds down. It’s 6PM and time for me to close up. Just then, a truck pulls up outside the gallery. The driver walks in with the most beautiful bouquet of orchids.

_

Is it real? Or was it just a dream?

Good night, gallery.

Opening Night

Flowers, photographs, friends, patrons, wine and conversation. Some pictures from yesterday’s Opening Night for BLINDNESS at Gallery Project K!

BTS

BTS today installing BLINDNESS at Gallery Project K. Thank you Hye-Ryoung Min for all your help. And for the cool pix!

Opening Night is tomorrow, Friday, Nov. 1st from 3 to 6PM. I will also be there this weekend from 1 to 6PM.

Come for a visit and help me celebrate my first Korean body of work! I’d really love to hear your impressions.

Address:

Gallery Project K

1F 895-12 Banagbae-dong, Seocho-gu, Seoul

***

초대합니다.

Gallery Project K에서 2024년 하반기 전시 공모에 선정이 되어 개인전을 하게 되었습니다. 한국에 새로운 터를 잡으며 작업한 <BLINDNESS>를 처음 선보입니다. 11월 1일 돌아 오는 금요일 오프닝에서 뵙기를 바랍니다.

Solo exhibition

Jaime Permuth <BLINDNESS>

Gallery Project K.

2024 하반기 전시 공모 선정전

2024. 11. 1. - 11. 10. [Opening 11. 1. 3-6pm]

서울 서초구 서초대로30길 14 1층 (7호선 내방역)

매일 1-6pm

*금, 토, 일 작가가 갤러리에 있을 예정입니다. 다른날 방문하시는 분은 미리 알려주시면 맞이하러 갑니다.

Preparing for BLINDNESS at Gallery Project K, Seoul

Prints are framed and ready to hang for my BLINDNESS solo exhibition at Gallery Project K @gallery.project.k!

Opening Night is this Friday, Nov. 1st from 3 to 6PM. I will also be there this weekend from 1 to 6PM.

Come for a visit and help me celebrate my first Korean body of work! I’d really love to hear your impressions.

Address:

Gallery Project K

1F 895-12 Banagbae-dong, Seocho-gu, Seoul

***

초대합니다.

Gallery Project K에서 2024년 하반기 전시 공모에 선정이 되어 개인전을 하게 되었습니다. 한국에 새로운 터를 잡으며 작업한 <BLINDNESS>를 처음 선보입니다. 11월 1일 돌아 오는 금요일 오프닝에서 뵙기를 바랍니다.

Solo exhibition

Jaime Permuth <BLINDNESS>

Gallery Project K.

2024 하반기 전시 공모 선정전

2024. 11. 1. - 11. 10. [Opening 11. 1. 3-6pm]

서울 서초구 서초대로30길 14 1층 (7호선 내방역)

매일 1-6pm

*금, 토, 일 작가가 갤러리에 있을 예정입니다. 다른날 방문하시는 분은 미리 알려주시면 맞이하러 갑니다.

Six

We found out on the day of HRM’s first ultrasound. At one point, the nurse slowed her probing movements. Then she stopped briefly and seemed to check more attentively once again. Laughing softly, she told us there was not one but two hearts beating inside the womb.

That moment in time, our looks of joy and disbelief, is etched into my heart forever.

Against all odds, HRM, forty years old at the time, carried the boys almost to full term.

The first few hours after they were born turned into a day and a night. Then two.

They were finally here, unnamed yet, but of this world. We were just meeting them, just getting to know them. And in a way, we were being reborn as well. It was unreal to feel our old selves begin to fall away, making room for the parents we were about to become.

I remember the preciousness of sleep, how few and far between the hours of rest.

The wonder of picking up a crying baby and placing him against my chest until he quieted down, all the while the edges of the room around us softening and growing dimmer, almost to the point of vanishing.

Luca and Olin. Olin and Luca. Impossible to think of you without one another.

Know that my heart is yours

and that I’ve never been happier than in the six years since we first saw your faces.

Mantis

It’s still all about the praying mantis!

This week Olin came back from Kindergarten with a little sculpture he made during recess. And yesterday night, Luca made an origami version.

Last month the boys caught a number of them in Seojong, including some pregnant females. They’ve nurtured the pupas that the females left behind and one of them already hatched releasing about two dozen babies!

In other news, Luca got a love letter yesterday from a girl at Kindergarten. She wrote he was her favorite and the coolest boy she knows. She also wished for him to get over his cold soon 🥹😍