Hasn’t everyone, at some point, dreamed of running away? The idea of escaping—from every situation we’d rather avoid, from ourselves, from life, even from the things we love—lives somewhere in a corner of our minds. Avoidance can sometimes let us breathe. Perhaps talk of leaving the art world also provides a kind of breathing room for many who work within it. Whatever the degree of sincerity, it always helps us remind ourselves that there is an alternative.  

Curator Kim Yurmyurng has always struck me as someone curious and hard to pin down (I started trying to trace my earliest memory of her, before deciding it wasn’t all that important). With some personal interest mixed in, I was also hoping that the way she has worked might offer hints as to how to shape the DCW public program we were putting together. I was curious about the trajectory of a curator who has moved between workshops, performances, and collaborations of unfixed formats—a curatorial process easily presumed to entail considerable difficulty. How does she get closer; how does she pull back; and how does she measure that distance?  

The usefulness of calibrating and separating “art” from “art work,” of looking for the mode of art that doesn’t take the form of a job. The pleasure of the act itself. Avoiding or enduring. Finding a livable reality amid the myriad things you can’t agree with. Maintaining some indelible optimism inside a cynical stance. I find myself returning to the idea of the curator as mediator. And then I think, maybe it’s fine if nothing gets mediated at all, as long as the artwork lingers and doesn’t disappear entirely.  

—Han Munhee (Amo) (DCW 2025)