Life-Size Statues Made from Reclaimed Materials Investigate Dual Identities [Interview]

Artist Seongmin Yoo possesses two distinct identities. Originally from Korea and now residing and creating in California, she utilizes her art to explore the duality of her existence. “The conflict between tradition and modernity, connection and disconnection, forms the foundation of my work,” Yoo shares with My Modern Met. It takes shape in life-sized sculptures that showcase figures constructed from various often discarded materials, such as fragments of broken shells, feathers, and animal skins.

When exhibited, Yoo’s creations are arranged to engage with their surroundings. Her recent exhibition, named The Flow of Displacement, featured her figures placed throughout the Holter Museum of Art, allowing viewers to stroll around and closely observe the pieces. This positioning has a secondary impact that is fundamental to Yoo’s vision, enabling spectators to “experience the journey of migration and displacement” while they interpret the figures and their meanings.

Yoo’s unconventional forms bear a likeness to humans with arms and legs, but the similarities largely stop there. This is intentional, as she employs them to emphasize the sensations associated with living in two realms. “At first glance, my work might appear strange,” the sculptor clarifies, “but as individuals navigate my installations, they can encounter reflections of themselves within it.”

We had the chance to engage with Yoo regarding her life-sized sculptures. Keep reading for My Modern Met’s exclusive interview that delves deeper into her fascinating creations.

What is your artistic background?

I hail from Korea and have spent many years in California, where I’ve been living and working. My journey into art originated from a deep-seated desire to understand the world through various materials and imagery. I began with painting and subsequently broadened my scope to include sculpture, installation, and performance, as I wished to traverse different mediums and environments.

How did you become involved in creating art?

The pivotal moment that drew me into art was recognizing the harmony between a conceptual thought and the materials themselves, where the meaning and the substance conversed. That epiphany has been a guiding force in my practice ever since, crafting spaces that encourage contemplation on the connections between humanity and nature, as well as how displacement and belonging influence our experiences.

How would you portray your art to someone unfamiliar with it?

My creations often manifest as large-scale, life-like figures that invite people to wander among them. Although they may seem unusual initially—fractured, hybrid, part human, part animal, part plant—viewers find that as they approach, the materials begin to convey a narrative. I incorporate salvaged items, shells, blooms, animal skins, and cement to construct figures that reflect resilience and survival. While I capture the outline of the human form, the materials coalesce within it, blurring distinctions. In nature, plant, animal, and even human-made objects exist intertwined; there’s no true separation. My figures embody this interconnectedness, welcoming audiences into a serene interaction with otherness.

Your sculptural work emphasizes salvaged materials and disregarded items. What inspired that choice?

I engage with materials that embody both life and memory. Utilizing salvaged or discarded items transcends mere recycling; it serves to honor what often goes unnoticed. A thistle may be prickly and unwelcome, yet it sustains bees and butterflies and thrives where other vegetation fails. Likewise, individuals who face displacement or marginalization possess a unique beauty and strength.

What does it demand from you as an artist?

For me, these materials are active participants; they contribute to the work just as much as I do. They necessitate my attentiveness and regard, compelling me to heed their stories, to leave their flaws and imperfections visible, and to construct forms that recognize both breaks and resilience.
Simultaneously, I question: why do we believe we can dominate or control nature? Humanity has historically defined itself through environmental alteration. Yet when nature alters us, we resist, often with fear. My work reflects this interweaving, demonstrating that nature, humanity, and material are inherently intertwined, and that our existence hinges on accepting that we are not in charge, but rather a part of the ongoing flow.

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