• From February 23 to May 18, 2002, the Peter Blum Gallery of New York presents the exhibition A Mirror Woman by the Korean artist Kimsooja. At the same time, her work can be seen as part of the Whitney Biennial (which this year has overflowed the physical limits of the Marcel Breuer building, taking over part of the public space of Central Park). The work of Kimsooja in the Biennial is titled Deductive Object, and is in the Leaping Frog Cafe in the Central Park Zoo.

• The notion of nomadism has been privileged in the discussion and practice of the visual arts in the last decade, coinciding with the phenomenon of globalization and the effects that this has had on the circulation of goods and ideas — as much in economic as cultural terms — and the "mutual contamination" that this traffic implies. Kimsooja, a Korean artist living in New York, is one of those artists who exemplify in a complex way the paradoxes of globalization. While she works with deeply local materials and references, her work has been inserted comfortably into the international scene, holding a position of resistance against being digested into an aseptic internationalism but taking care, in these days of multiculturalism, to hyperbolize the characteristics of its difference to become more "exotic" in a medium eager for otherness.

• Kimsooja is not a new face in New York. A year ago, P.S.1. (the "alternative" space par excellence of the 90s, nowadays associated to MoMA) presented an individual exhibition of her work, which had been shown already in that same space shortly before, within the framework of the very publicized Cities on the Move. Perhaps the work that has given her the greatest international visibility is her series of videos titled A Needle Woman, initiated in 1999. The artist traveled to eight cities in several continents, among them some of the most populated cities of the world: Cairo, New Delhi, Lagos, London, Mexico City, New York, Shangai and Tokyo. Generally, they are presented / displayed as large-format projections, in whose image is seen the artist from the back in a crowded city street.

• The passers-by look in the direction of the camera — which they encounter from a considerable distance — and this depth of field has the effect of "leveling" the image on which figure and background are based and is difficult to calculate the proximity between the artist and the locals that encounter her. The artist is immovable in a meditative attitude, totally passive to the reaction of the people. This passivity generates a tension: at any moment we are hoping that she is interrupted, bothered, or even attacked. One of the immediate readings provoked by this work is one of the uncomfortable relation of the individual with society, a personal act of meditation facing the collective interaction in a public space. The artist opposes the slowness of individual, metaphysical time, at the speed of the collective time, whose rate is marked by conventions. A Needle Woman is, in the words of Paulo Herkenhoff, "the cartography of a 'displaced being.'" The needle, the artist reminds us, is an ambiguous image, as much masculine as feminine: "it can inflict a wound and at the same time be used to heal it." When facing the human river in the streets of these great cities, Kimsooja is penetrating the social weave and is simultaneously being permeated by its particularities. This tension is clearly perceivable in the videos, in which there is always a latent sensation of violence — implicit in the confrontation between individual and society, foreigner and locals, the woman and a phallocentric society; the confrontation is literalized by the formal disposition of the performance.

• The status of a foreigner in another country and the condition of the urban immigrant is also invoked here. The tension between the urban landscape, full of color and vitality, and the immovable image of the artist, always dressed in the same grey tunic (which recalls the clothes of indigents and the poor, unavoidable presences in all contemporary metropolises) adds a political reading to this confrontation between individual and society. It is worth noting that the use of an indefinite article to title the work, "A" Needle Woman instead of "The" Needle Woman, testifies to the will of Kimsooja to allude more to the human condition than to a particular history, presenting / displaying "the lost soul to us of globalized modernity," as the critic Ken Jonson wrote in the New York Times.

• The work of Kimsooja is in the tradition of the performance, though the body remains immovable here. But it is also in the tradition of the landscape and, why not, of the urban documentary. These videos are pictures of the local life in each one of the selected contexts: the chaotic architecture in which tradition and modernity mix in cities like Delhi and Shangai; the human rivers in New York or Tokyo. Each video incorporates abundant sociological information on the "local color": clothes, means of transport, forms to be related in the public space. In New York and London people ignore each other (and the artist) but simultaneously speak on cellular phones, establishing an alternative relational plot in which the notion of the street as the space of social interaction par excellence is challenged by the technological and social reality of the great contemporary large cities.

• The images of the eight cities vary significantly, in their color, texture and, as was already said, in the attitude of the passers-by with respect to the artist, confirming that in the base of national stereotypes much truth exists: in London and New York, cultures in where individuality is an appraised good, people pass to the side without becoming jumbled, minding their own business, doing something that is not there. In the cities of Asia a similar attitude is perceived, although the furtive glances attest more to a timid nature than of an affirmation of individuality. And readings could be made still more particular: as the critic Gregory Volk writes, in Tokyo the artist could just as well not be there, because the people ignore her completely, "before which it is inevitable to think about how the Korean minority in Japan has long suffered from cultural invisibility and discrimination." In Sao Paolo or Mexico City, people were more direct in satisfying the curiosity generated by this unusual urban presence (an Asian woman completely immovable in a sidewalk is without a doubt an unexpected appearance), whereas in Lagos, the performance caused a true collapse in the circulation of this large African city, when a group of boys crowded itself around the artist to watch her, to ask her questions and to try to obtain some type of reaction. And so on in each case.

• From 1994 the artist has used multicolored fabrics presented/displayed in several ways: spread on the ground, folded in piles, hung on lines as if they were being dried in the sun or in bunches (called Bottaris), which have become one of her more characteristic visual resources. In their different uses, these colorful fabrics have a great evocative capacity; they recall the clothes hung in the patios, or put out to dry on the banks of rivers in the rural areas of many countries — no only in the Third World. The bunches have more complex readings; it is inevitable to think of displaced urbanites with their properties in the hills, or of associations even more macabre, because many of them are the size to wrap a human body. The fabric in this case is a delicate limit between interior and outside, spirit and materiality, the individual and the world that surrounds it. The Bottaris are made from fabrics traditionally used in Korea to surround domestic objects like clothes or books. These bulks symbolize the historical displacement of the Korean population, but they touch upon a global preoccupation, the phenomenon of internal migrants and the immigrants, displaced from their places of origin for diverse reasons — religious, political, economic — one of the subjects of greatest importance in the postindustrial societies. The Bottaris are the house in the absence of the house, indices of a left or lost place, that guarantee a connection with history.

• A Mirror Woman, the installation in the Peter Blum Gallery, consists of a kind of multicolor labyrinth formed by the fabrics that hang from cables like the ones used to dry clothes, that cross - extended across the rectangular space of the gallery. In the two sidewalls the artist has placed mirrors that cover the entire surface of the walls, with which one has the sensation to be immersed in an infinite space. For Kim, the mirror is "another way to surround the world". These textiles are associated with the condition of the woman in Korean society, and to domestic rites like sewing and embroidering bedcovers as marriage gifts. Kimsooja has described how she arrived at this material: "I was sewing bedcovers for my mother and after a while I had a strange sensation in which my thoughts, my feelings and my actions seemed to get to be on [with the fabric and the act of sewing it]." These fabrics are all the same form and size (a regular square), but vary significantly in their color, texture and composition, because they are made in many cases from pieces of used dresses or other blankets. Most of them belonged to somebody, and this "biographical load" is perceivable in the installation, in where they are a stirring presence.

• The intervention in the Leap Frog Cafe in Central Park is very subtle, because as it is not an artistic space, the fabrics tend to merge with the colorful atmosphere of the park. When using the bedcovers like tablecloths in the restaurant, Kimsooja incorporates in this scope of socialization the presence of experiences lived in other times and other contexts; apparently this displacement is a transgressive act, because in Korea it is taboo to eat upon the bed. Probably a casual person at the table does not perceive the presence of "the work", but this is the risk associated with all intervention that is not codified by its inclusion in a museological space. What is certain is that for many others the social act around the table (eating, talking, drinking coffee) will be mediated by their presence, and by the consciousness that these fabrics have been dumb witnesses of many other lives. Like the mirrors.

"HOMELAND EXISTS ONLY IN OUR MEMORY IN THIS ERA" [1]

• The work "2727 kilometers Bottari Truck" (1997) by the Korean artist Kimsooja has prompted many commentaries – on the Internet too – that are full of inaccurate quotes and half-truths, but that also include some quite imaginative interpretations. For example, there is talk of the "video loop of her sojourn throughout Seoul and the surrounding countryside" (I am deliberately excluding source references here.) In the film itself, however, there is nothing to be seen of the metropolis of Seoul. In another commentary: "In 1997, Kimsooja toured Korea for eleven days in a truck containing a large number of 'bottari' made from clothing she had gathered from all over the world." This universalistic interpretation is contradicted by the following reduction to local history in another text: "The mountain of colorful, knotted cloths in the truck alludes to the troubled episodes of Korean history, in which city dwellers and the inhabitants of the countryside alike were forced to flee their homes, carrying their valuables in similar large 'bottari'." However, it is impossible to examine the content of the bundles in the film, and inconceivable – at least for the lay person – to deduce the forced nomadism of the Korean people from the truck journey performance. What I am attempting here, therefore, is to allow the images to speak for themselves and at the same time take account of the written information which the artist has provided in her film.

• A woman is sitting on a truck loaded with bundles. The bundles are tightly secured with thick ropes; they also serve as a seat for the woman. Throughout the whole film this female figure is shown only from behind. Occasionally, at a bend in the road, her concealed profile appears momentarily. She is wearing a neutral black dress that defies classification, either chronologically or geographically, and her hair is bound up. The camera following her tries to vary as little as possible the distance it keeps from her and to always keep her at the centre of the frame. Accordingly, in the lower half of the frame we see the heap of colorful bundles (only once does the rear of the truck sways briefly into the image), and in the upper half, we see the woman and the passing scenery [2]. The truck first travels upwards along a mountain road, then, having crossed a pass, down again into the valley. The road winds, with fairly sharp bends, through a landscape which during the ascent looks quite barren, but on the descent turns out to be wooded. Traces of snow can be seen at the road-side and around several groups of buildings. The landscape is geographically unidentifiable. There could be places like this in almost any continent of the world. The script on one of the passing road-signs, however, indicates the Asian region.

• The information directly available from the images is complemented by some written data. The almost seven-minute video begins with a fade-in followed by the title "Cities on the Move". This refers to the context in which the work originated – namely, the exhibition "Cities on the Move", which was created by Hou Hanru and Hans Ulrich Obrist and, in keeping with the theme, was shown in different formats in different cities and continents [3].

• Right from the beginning, this fade-in also provides a pointer to the general problem of how cities are developing. What is specifically "on the move" is the truck fully loaded with bundles. The truck must, therefore, be associated with "cities." And yet only a mountain road is visible in the frames. Do the bundles come from cities? Are they being transported to cities? Throughout the whole film, the word "cities" lodges in our mind like a foreign body, forming the conceptual counterpart to the landscape, which is visible all the time in the background. The general title "Cities on the Move" implies that the journey passes through city and country. Shortly before the end of the film, its actual title appears: "2727 kilometers Bottari Truck". Only now do we realize that the seven-minute sequence is no more than an extract from a much longer journey. The final credits contain information on the director (Kimsooja), the year the film was made (1997) and the location. Thus the point in time (the present) and the place where the action occurs (Korea) become clear. Yet we still feel confused. As image and text mutually influence each other, there is a tense interplay at several levels: between city and country, part and whole, now and (almost) any time, here and (almost) everywhere – or, in contemporary terms: the local and the global. Furthermore, the linear structure of the film and the journey is weakened by its repetition (the video runs in a loop). Although the journey is the central theme of this work by Kimsooja, stasis proves to be just as vital.

• "2727 kilometers Bottari Truck" can be seen as a minimalist road movie. The classical road movie simultaneously depicts a physical and a spiritual journey: a person, but mostly two people, travel the country in a car or on a motorcycle in order to find both the true America and themselves [4]. Though the road movie refers to the past and suggests a future, it concentrates on the in-between, the road, the distance between past and future, city and country, civilization and nature, immobility and movement. In an e-mail interview with Hans Ulrich Obrist, Kimsooja writes: " 'Bottari Truck' is…a loaded in –between"[5]. The road promises not only release from the bonds of the past but also the adventure of a new beginning. The reasons that drive someone onto the road have a lasting effect on the plot of the road movie. In Kimsooja's film there is neither action nor motivation. The woman dressed in black is traveling alone. She remains seated, while still moving forward. Deleuze and Guattari refer to the progress in repose of the nomad in their Nomadology: "The nomad distributes himself in a smooth space; he occupies, inhabits, holds that space; that is his territorial principle. It is therefore false to define the nomad by movement. Toynbee is profoundly right to suggest that the nomad is on the contrary he who does not move. …Of course, the nomad moves, but while seated, and he is only seated while moving (the Bedouin galloping, knees on the saddle, sitting on the soles of his upturned feet, 'a feat of balance')." [6] We do not know where the dark female figure comes from or where she is going to. We are not informed about her reasons for making the journey, why she has tied up her bundles. She exists only in this in-between space constituted by the road. Deleuze and Guattari emphasize this in-between space as a further characteristic of nomadism: "The nomad has a territory; he follows customary paths, he goes from one point to another, he is not ignorant of points (water points, dwelling points, assembly points, etc). …A path is always between two points, but the in-between has taken on all the consistency and enjoys both an autonomy and a direction of its own. The life of the nomads is the intermezzo." [7] The classical road movie operates with the opposition between space and place. Space – abstract space, wide open space –symbolizes inestimable freedom, while place – the precisely localized place – means civilization, the norm, the rule, i.e., restriction. In Kimsooja's film the two terms coincide in the concept of the bundle. This temporary place, the bundle, on which the woman is sitting, is simultaneously space and movement. It thus integrates the opposites of stasis and displacement, bondage and freedom. In the interview with Obrist, the artist puts this paradox as follows: " 'Bottari truck' is a development-object through space and time, an object that brings us to and from the place from which we came and to which we will return." [8] Kimsooja uses the elementary bundle – literally a "transitory object" – as a complex, contradictory symbol of location and placeless-ness.

• At first sight, everything in "2727 kilometers Bottari Truck" seems to be in motion, flowing: the truck with the bundles roped onto it, the woman swaying slightly on the bends and at times shaken because of the bumpy road, the passing landscape. Meanwhile, the woman is taken as a fixed point (the heaped bundles function as a mere "plinth"); she is the referential object, although almost all we see of her is a cloth covering. The woman cannot be identified and is thus as anonymous as the bundles, whose contents remain concealed. This makes her a genuine identification figure. She can be anyone. Her body is a bundle, a container of many things, a corpus. In the interview with Hans Ulrich Obrist, Kimsooja remarks: " 'Bottari Truck' is a laden self, a laden other." [9] The body as bundle enables the transfer between "me" and "the other in me", between "me" and "the other". [10] The travelling woman seated on the bundles is not least a symbol both of primitive and of modern man, of nomadism and of the mobility and flexibility that have been raised to the new ideal and are often linked with values such as non-identity, placeless-ness, migration, cultural hybridism, etc. Yet this woman radiated an immense loneliness – melancholy? Marc Auge analyses the loneliness of modern cartography and in so doing, he investigates both those "places" which are characterized by identity, relation and history, and those "non-places" which have no anthropological identity. His conclusion is: "Movement adds a special experience, a form of loneliness, to the juxtaposition of the worlds and the experience of the anthropological place." As the images pass by, loneliness manifests itself in them "as a going beyond individuality, in short, the flickering of the hypothesis of a past and the possibility of a future." [11] Is loneliness perhaps the unexpected price to be paid for being open to the world?

"이 시대, 고향은 기억 속에 존재할 뿐" [1]

• 한국의 미술가 김수자의 <떠도는 도시들 - 2,727km 보따리 트럭>(1997)은 많은 평을 불러일으켰고, 인터넷에서도 마찬가지였다. 부정확한 인용과 반쪽짜리 사실이 가득했지만, 상상력 넘치는 해석들도 있었다. 예를 들어 "서울과 그 주변 지역을 두루 여행한 김수자의 체류기를 담은 비디오 루프 작품"이라는 이야기가 있다(출처 언급은 일부러 피하는 중이다). 하지만 영상 어디에도 대도시 서울의 모습은 보이지 않는다. 또 다른 평을 보면 "1997년 김수자는 세계 각지에서 모은 옷감으로 수많은 '보따리'를 만들어 트럭에 싣고 11일 동안 한국을 여행했다"고 한다. 이런 범세계적 해석은 지역사로 좁혀 들어가는 또 다른 글과 대치된다. "트럭 뒤 색색의 동여맨 옷감이 이룬 산이 한국사의 험난한 사건들을 암시하니, 당시 사람들은 도농을 막론하고 모두 비슷비슷하게 큰 "보따리"에 귀중품을 싸서 피난길에 올라야 했다." 하지만 영상에서 보따리의 내용물을 확인할 수는 없으며, 또 적어도 문외한의 눈으로 트럭 여정의 퍼포먼스에서 한국인이 겪은 강제적 노마디즘의 역사를 유추해내기란 불가능하다. 따라서 나는 다음과 같은 방식을 시도하려 한다. 이미지 자체가 스스로 말하게 하되, 동시에 작가가 작품 속에 담은 정보를 함께 고려하는 것이다.

• 한 여인이 보따리를 가득 실은 트럭 위에 앉아 있다. 두꺼운 줄로 꽉 묶어 안전히 실은 보따리는 여인의 앉을 자리 역할도 한다. 영상 내내 여인은 오로지 뒷모습만 보인다. 이따금 길이 굽어질 때면, 옆모습이 잠깐 드러난다. 여인은 시대와 지역을 이 가늠하기 어려운 중립적인 검은 옷을 입었고, 머리카락은 하나로 묶었다. 그를 따르는 카메라는 최대한 같은 거리를 유지하며 항상 그를 프레임 중앙에 두려 애쓴다. 그래서 프레임 하단에는 색색의 보따리 더미가(딱 한 번 트럭 후미가 흔들리다 잠시 화면 안에 들어온다), 프레임 상단에는 여인과 스쳐가는 풍경이 보인다.[2] 초반에는 트럭이 산길을 따라 올라가다가, 고개를 넘고 나면 다시 골짜기로 내려간다. 급하게 꺾이기도 하는 굽이진 길이 풍경을 통과하는 가운데, 오르막에서는 꽤 척박해 보이던 주변이 내리막에서는 우거진 숲으로 변한다. 길가와 몇몇 건물 주변에 눈 내린 흔적도 남아 있다. 지리적으로 어느 곳의 경관인지 특정되지 않아서, 세계 어느 대륙에라도 이런 곳이 있을 법하다. 하지만 스쳐간 도로표지판에 적힌 글자들이 이곳이 아시아 지역임을 내비친다.

• 작품에 나오는 일부 텍스트가 영상의 직접적 정보에 보탬이 된다. 약 7분 길이의 영상이 페이드인으로 시작하고 곧이어 "떠도는 도시들"이라는 제목이 나온다. 이는 작품이 만들어진 배경, 즉 후한루와 한스 울리히 오브리스트가 기획한 전시 《움직이는 도시》를 가리키는 것으로, 주제에 맞게 맞춰 다양한 도시와 대륙에서 서로 다른 형식으로 전시되었다.[3]

• 영상이 시작되는 그 순간부터 이 페이드인은 도시가 어떻게 발전해 가고 있는지에 관한 일반적인 문제를 시사한다. 이 작품에서 "떠도는" 것은 구체적으로 보따리를 가득 실은 트럭이다. 그러니 트럭은 "도시"와 관련이 있어야 한다. 하지만 화면에 보이는 것은 오로지 산길이다. 보따리는 도시에서 실어 온 걸까? 아니면 도시로 나르는 길일까? 작품 내내 "도시"라는 단어가 우리 마음에 이물처럼 박혀, 내내 배경을 이루는 풍경의 개념적 대응을 이룬다. "떠도는 도시"라는 일반적 제목은 이 여정이 도시와 시골을 모두 통과하는 것임을 암시한다. 영상이 끝나기 직전, "2,727km 보따리 트럭"이라는 작품의 실제 제목이 등장한다. 그제야 우리는 이 7분의 시퀀스가 훨씬 긴 여정의 발췌본에 불과함을 깨닫게 된다. 마지막에 올라가는 크레딧에 실린 감독(김수자), 촬영 연도(1997년), 장소 같은 정보 덕분에 상황이 진행되는 시점은 지금이고 장소는 한국이라는 사실이 명확해진다. 그럼에도 우리는 여전히 혼란스러운 느낌을 받는다. 이미지와 텍스트가 서로 영향을 미치기에, 도시와 시골, 부분과 전체, 현재와 (거의) 모든 시간, 여기와 (거의) 모든 장소 간의 긴장 - 즉 현대적인 개념으로는 로컬과 글로벌 사이의 긴장이다. 게다가 영상과 여정의 선형적 구조는 반복(영상은 루프로 반복 재생된다)으로 인해 약화된다. 작품의 중심 주제가 여정이기는 하나, 정지 상태 또한 그에 못지않게 중요한 요소이다.

• <떠도는 도시들 - 2,727km 보따리 트럭>은 미니멀 로드무비로 볼 수 있다. 고전적인 로드무비는 물리적 여정과 정신적 여정을 동시에 묘사한다. 한 사람 혹은 대부분 아니면 대체로 두 사람이 자동차나 오토바이를 타고 나라를 여행하며 ‘진정한 미국’과 자기 자신을 발견하려는 과정을 그린다., 진정한 자아를 찾기 위해 나라를 여행한다.[4] 로드무비가 과거를 언급하고 미래를 암시하기는 해도, 영화가 집중하는 것은 ‘사이 공간(in-between)’, 즉 과거와 미래, 도시와 시골, 문명과 자연, 정지와 운동 사이의 거리이자 도로이다. 한스 울리히 오브리스트와의 이메일 인터뷰에서 김수자는 이렇게 말한다. " '보따리 트럭'은... 짐을 싣고 있는 ‘사이 공간’이다."[5]이다. 도로는 과거의 속박에서 해방될 수 있을 뿐만 아니라 새로운 시작이라는 모험을 약속한다. 누군가를 도로 길 위로 이끈 이유는 로드무비의 플롯에 지속적인 영향을 미친다. 하지만 김수자의 작품에는 행위도 동기도 없다. 검은 옷의 여인은 홀로 여행 중이다. 그는 앉은 채로 아 있으되, 여전히 앞으로 나아간다. 들뢰즈와 가타리는 '유목론'에서 유목민의 ‘정지 속의 진행’을 언급한다. "유목민은 자신을 매끄러운 공간에 분배한다. 유목민은 그 공간을 차지하고 거주하고 유지한다. 그것이 그의 영토 원리이다. 그러므로 유목민을 단순히 ‘움직이는 존재’로 정의하는 것은 옳지 않다. 토인비는 유목민을 움직이지 않는 자로 정의했는데, 이것은 근본적으로 옳다... 물론 유목민은 움직이지만, 움직이면서도 앉아 있으며, 앉아 있는 동안에도 움직이는 것이다.(베두인족은 안장 위에 무릎을 꿇고 발바닥을 세워 그 위에 앉아 말 위에서 균형을 잡으며 달린다.)."[6] 우리는 검은 옷의 여인이 어디에서 왔는, 혹은 어디로 가는지 알지 못한다. 왜 여정에 나섰는지 보따리를 동여맨 이유가 무엇인지에 관해서도 들은 바 없다. 여인은 길에 의해 구성된 사이의 공간에 그저 존재할 뿐이다. 들뢰즈와 가타리는 이 사이 공간이 유목주의의 심층적 특징이라 강조한다. "유목민에게는 영토가 있다. 그는 관습적인 경로를 따르며, 한 점에서 다른 점으로 움직이는데, 각 지점에 대해 무지하지 않다(급수 지점, 거주 지점, 집합 지점 등). ... 경로는 언제나 두 점 사이에 있지만, 그 사이는 일관성을 취하며, 자율성과 자기만의 방향을 즐긴다. 유목민의 삶은 간주곡이다."[7] 고전적인 로드무비는 공간과 장소의 대립으로 작동한다. 공간(추상적 공간, 훤히 열린 공간)은 헤아릴 수 없는 자유를 상징하는 반면, 장소(정확히 국지화된 장소)는 문명, 규범, 규율과 같은 제약을 상징한다. 김수자의 작품에서 두 용어는 보따리라는 개념 안에서 동시에 공존한다. 이 임시적 장소, 즉 여인이 앉은 보따리는 공간이자 운동이다. 그렇기에 보따리는 정지와 이주, 구속과 자유 같은 대립된 개념들을 통합한다. 오브리스트와의 인터뷰에서, 김수자는 이와 같은 역설을 다음과 같이 설명한다. " '보따리 트럭'은 공간과 시간을 가로지르는 전개의 오브제이자, 우리가 왔던 장소로부터, 또 우리가 돌아가게 될 장소로 우리를 데려가는 오브제이다."[8] 김수자는 단순한 보따리—말 그대로 "일시적 오브제" —를 장소성과 무장소성을 나타내는 복잡하고 모순된 상징으로 사용한다.

• 처음 보기에는, <떠도는 도시들 - 2,727km 보따리 트럭>의 모든 것이 움직이며 흘러가는 듯하다. 보따리들을 줄로 고정시킨 트럭, 커브길에서 몸이 살짝 흔들리고 험한 길에 휘청하기도 하는 여인, 스쳐가는 풍경 모두 그렇다. 그동안 여인은 고정된 지점으로 간주된다(쌓여 있는 보따리들은 그저 "좌대" 구실을 할 뿐이다). 비록 보이는 여인의 모습이라고는 몸을 덮은 옷이 전부이지만, 그가 바로 참조의 기준이다. 여인은 누구라 식별할 수 없는 존재이고, 그렇기에 내용물을 감춘 보따리만큼 익명적이다. 그렇기에 그는 진정한 동일시의 대상이 된다. 여인은 누구라도 될 수 있다. 그녀의 몸은 하나의 이 보따리이자, 많은 것을 담은 용기이자, 집합체이다. 한스 울리히 오브리스트와의 인터뷰에서 김수자는 이렇게 말한다. "<보따리 트럭>은 짐을 실은 자아이자, 짐을 실은 타자이다."[9] 보따리로서의 몸은 "나"와 "내 안의 타자", "나"와 "타자" 사이를 오가는 이행을 가능케 한다.[10] 보따리 더미 위에 앉아 여행하는 여인은 원시의 인간과 현대의 인간, 노마디즘 그리고 이동성과 유연성을 상징하는 존재이다. 새로운 이상으로 떠오른 이동성과 유연성은 종종 비정체성, 비장소성, 이주, 문화적 혼종성 같은 가치와 연결된다. 하지만 동시에 여인은 거대한 고독을 발산한다. 멜랑콜리라 해야 할까? 마르크 오제는 현대 지도 제작의 외로움을 분석하며, 정체성, 관계, 역사를 특징으로 하는 "장소"와 아무런 인류학적 정체성이 없는 "비장소"를 모두 탐구한다. 오제의 결론은 이러하다. "움직임은 여러 세계의 공존에 그리고 인류학적 장소와 더 이상 인류학적이지 않은 장소가 결합된 경험에 특별한 경험, 즉 어떤 형태의 고독을 더한다." 이미지들이 스쳐가는 동안 고독은 "개인성의 초월로서, 과거라는 가설의 희미한 반짝임과 미래의 가능성이라는 형태로 나타난다."[11] 어쩌면 고독이란 세상에 자신을 열어놓는 데 따르는 뜻밖의 대가인지도 모른다.

• Kim Sooja's installations, videos, and performances link art with everyday life by transforming common materials and concise gestures into poetic commentaries on the human condition. One key body of work involves the use of traditional Korean bedcoverings as sculptural elements. These textiles, traditionally given to newly married couples, are typically embroidered with symbolic patterns and made of contrasting colors, such as red and blue, which together signify the unification of yin and yang. In Kim's works, the bedcovers are laid flat on the ground, hung in rows like laundry on a line, or filled with old clothing and knotted in clusters of bottari, flexible bundles traditionally used to transport household goods. The becoverings are always used, artifacts of anonymous lives.

• Kim's bedcover pieces are deceptively simple in form, yet resonate with multiple layers of experience and meaning. On one level, they are strikingly sensuous compositions, spreading out before the viewer in an array of color, pattern, and texture. These fabrics are also immediately accessible: we all use bedcoverings virtually every night, from birth to death. They are fraught with feelings and emotions from comfort and desire to solitude and exhaustion. Bedcovers, in Kim's words, "are frames of our bodies and lives." When bundled as bottari, the bedcovers become a kind of universal symbol of human movement, hinting at migration, nomadism, and the experience of refugees. Bottari are also metaphors for the human form. "I find the body to be the most complicated bundle," explains Kim.

• On their most abstract level, which is the level most important for Kim herself, the bedcovers are veils that divide one state of being from another, inside from outside, the hidden from the seen. "Through the quite present and simultaneously distance engagement of cloth," comments curator Harald Szeeman, "she challenges us to reflection on our most basic conduct: consciousness of the ephemera of our existence, of enjoying the moment, of change, migration, resettlement, adventure, suffering, of having to leave behind the familiar. She masterfully sets her fabrics, rich in memory and narrative, into the situation of the moment, as zones of beauty and affecting associations. With a grace that knows ever so much."