Contemporary Dance X Media art Work SCF Seoul International Dance Festival Time: 12.12.2018 19:00

Place: Arko Arts Theater, Seoul

Choreography&Performance : So Yeon Shin Production: Yoon Jungwon

Voice: Oh Hyeon Joong

Music: Keri prokopidis

Photo: Ornilia Percia


Yoon Jungwon

Media Artist, Producer

Art & Technology, Sogang University, Seoul, Republic of Korea

Oh Hyeon Joong


Namoo Actors Agency

Korea National University of Arts Theater Academy

So Yeon Shin

Choreography, Performance, Dancer Ewha Woman’s University

DoDoMoov Dance Theater


The death of a beetle _

The body of a bee rolls in the wind. The beetle has returned to its feet. Whip the part of the disabled body.

What a useless move, the pain of surplus.

The ants who can cook just hide in their dying arms and wait. Insects that don't speak, they don't lose steam.

Is that the sheer will of life?


Or that the jaw in your arms is going to fit in a little Is it a mechanical movement of the ligaments?

The support for dying is for the will,

It's about the ticking, this little delicate mechanism. Or an incredibly accurate ant.

It's a cheer for your chin.

with all one's might

1 mm distance, right after that.

with a loud rustle of dry leaves

30 centimeters of distance rolled in the wind to this beetle. What does it mean?

Soon, the funeral procession began.

They carried the ticking away somewhere.



Uninterpreted code _

Why did you only have to say it in such plain words? Call your mother.

I ate my father's meal.

It's so normal that I shudder.

a dark black hole.

The message that will be ignored is my karma.

Our memories of last year are buried somewhere in the landscape.

I wanted to wait for spring even though I saw a dry branch. Although the flowers were not sweet, they were not for you.

I wanted to be called ‘The Magnolia’ and ‘The Cherry Blossom.’

Although not red, maple trees are maple trees!

Two months later, walking on some unknown grasses,

a crime of daring to rejoice at a wild flower for which grass will bloom

All the trees you can see are called winter trees.

The shutter I was pressing on and the crime of taking away the eyes of affection.

You put your feet on the ground, and you just look up at the sky

Gravity to support me from the fire of hell.

a crime of burying a diary of gratitude to the beings


The answer didn't come.

It's a world of black eyes that can't read mediocrity. We couldn't respond to each other's calls.

They sin against each other and punish each other.


Codes that will not be interpreted by anyone endlessly, noiselessly, hover in the air.

A South Korean spy who loves mediocrity listens to the public.

"I love to see you.Love that want to be included with kisses, and there is a point of view."

‘Oh! Shut up!’

Reports of spies:

"A cry of love filled with deaf sinners has already turned Seoul into a sea of fire."

The spy agency left because its mission was burdensome. a lost hope

After writing down this long struggle, The answer didn't come.


the nature of life _

I spent all night trying to fix the radio antenna up and down. I remember trying to get stuck in the window.


lie in bed and experience cell life as accidents flow

I remember finding grains of white-and-white that are unavoidable no matter where I turn my eyes.

And then you close your eyes, and you can see the dim fireworks in the dark. It was in the landscape of a room covered with glittering wallpaper.

The principle of cardiac defibrillators is to eliminate irregular electrical impulses that cause heart attacks.

That irregularity, the sound of the fetus hearing, of the noisy, intense blood vessels. It's like a sound of blood spouting."

If you block your ears with your palms, it will be the same noise you can hear.

My grandmother, buried under the ground,

It is enveloped in a world of flashing, noisy, and unavoidable noise.

So, is the noise itself?

So, it melts in the soil, it blows up in the wind, it gets caught in an antenna and hovers around in a cochlear tube.

Do you turn around in a blood vessel, and you're stinging at something that's white?

Living a life born of noise and going back to noise is what's on the radio. I once thought it would be similar to trying to capture a voice.

I'm gonna grab an antenna that I don't know how to work.

It's made up of fealty belief and instinctive analogy, looking only at the empty space.

a great deal of endeavor

I still don't know what to do with the radio.


I don't even know what it's related to.

It's just that it's not coming out well.