From behind my laptop screen, I see an open truck door in the nighttime. I soon realize that the video follows the protagonist's perspective. A male voice murmurs, "SHE WANTS TO KILL HERSELF,"1 and asks his partner if he is ready. Assuming this figure is a cop, I imagine he is about to carry out justice with his partner. With the fast-paced music, the bold texts, and the blurry background, I struggle to understand the situation, but continue to stare, mesmerized as if watching a thriller. It is when the protagonist and his partner talk about warrants, and aggressively demand the submission of a third figure, that I realize the video is of actual police footage, and its fashionable captions are a direct transcription of the audio. In this pivotal moment, I become disgusted. What I once thought was a grim, stylish fiction is reality.

Kang 1.png

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Figure 1–3. Young-Hae Chaang Heavy Industries,

Figure 1–3. Young-Hae Chaang Heavy Industries, "I WANT TO DIE SCREAMING UNCLEAR," Video 00:01.

I WANT TO DIE SCREAMING UNCLEAR (2020) is the most recent work produced by Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries (YHCHI).2 This 3-minute video presented on the artist collective's webpage without any didactic explanation plays the bodycam footage of a U.S. cop wrestling to arrest a woman who claims to be mentally ill, dubbed with music and subtitles. The integration of text and improvised music to this video mainly follows, but subtly deviates from, YHCHI's signature format. As a result, the audiovisual appropriation gives an ambivalent statement about its material and subject—police brutality and the recent Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement. Similar sentiments toward the movement can be observed from Koreans' general reactions to the recent Death of George Floyd on social media. By noting similar ambivalence from these two sources, this paper suggests an urgent need and frame to discuss YHCHI's newest work and racism in Korea.

YHCHI is a two-person collective based in Seoul, South Korea that is mostly known for its signature electronic literature. In 1999, Korean artist Young Hae Chang and American poet Marc Voge began their collaboration in Seoul after studying literature in Paris. Chang's full name is included in their group name "as CEO of their global enterprise."3 Meanwhile, Voge, the "Chief Information Officer," is represented as "Heavy Industries," and expresses his nonchalant attitude about being capitalized and objectified.4 The group's cooptation with of corporate titles and culture reflects their fascination with Korean capitalism and its toll on society, the leading subject of their work.

To YHCHI, "Korean families are dejected families (ALL UNHAPPY FAMILIES ARE ALIKE), Korean economy means a person obsessed with Samsung (SAMSUNG MEANS TO DIE), and Korean politics is politicians dying their hair black (POLITICIANS WHO DYE THEIR HAIR—WHAT ARE THEY HIDING?)."5 The group is not afraid to take stabs at Korean culture, economy, and society; their cynical perspective and fantasy generate both humor and discomfort, especially from Korean audiences. Their witty and acerbic jabs are not retained by geographic borders. Using multiple languages—Spanish, Turkish, Russian, Galician, Chinese, Japanese, German, and more in translation on top of their default languages: Korean and English—the two artists instigate, tease, and fantasize global politics, sex, technology, and anything that catches their attention and merits contemplation. In contrast to their voracious appetite for a wide variety of subjects, the forms of their works have been intentionally and stubbornly persistent.6 YHCHI's simple coded Adobe Flash videos consist of Monaco-font texts, improvised music, and, at times, moving images for backgrounds. The pairing of sound and poetic texts can happen in a few ways: sometimes the production of texts comes first, sometimes the one of music is first, or sometimes both mutually develop alongside each other.7 Almost all of their pieces start with "Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries Presents" as if they are marking their works as corporate property. Their poetic texts blink in and out and zoom through to the musical beat. The use of text, which can be considered more straightforward communication, almost becomes meaningless, and barely recognizable with human eyes. When experienced in a gallery setting, the only thing users can do is struggle to catch up with texts that are flying by and blazing through the screen with no control of the video. Texts become a visual element rather than linguistic signifier. Also, this completely abandons the key elements of digital literary texts: interactivity and programmability.8

In their newest work, a couple of effects are distinctive from their previous practices. First, for I WANT TO DIE SCREAMING UNCLEAR, YHCHI uses real police footage. The footage is taken from officer Ryan Dubiel's body camera. While patrolling Woodlynne, NJ, Dubiel came across a woman who threw trash in the street, which blew out a passing driver's tire.9 According to his report and recorded footage, the woman claimed to have a mental health problem and shared suicidal intentions.10 Despite the woman's plea, Dubiel aggressively attempted to arrest the woman with force. Later, the officer was accused of using excessive force on the woman and shooting an unarmed man earlier the same night. As the investigation continued, his career history, filled with misconduct, revealed a detrimental loophole in New Jersey's police system. In light of George Floyd's death at the hands of the Minneapolis police in May 2020 and the resurgent Black Lives Matter movement, The New York Times requested to release Dubiel's bodycam footage taken that night.11 Soon, YHCHI found and used this footage with an available transcript online.

In their appropriation of this readily accessible real-life footage, YHCHI moderated their trace by omitting the use of their trademark "YHCHI Presents." Instead, I WANT TO DIE SCREAMING UNCLEAR opens with a solid black screen that directly cuts to the start of the police footage. The only alterations (additions) to the footage are the layers of original music and captions in all caps that pop up perfectly-fitted into the rectangular screen. These captions directly correspond to any dialogue and action happening in the footage with subtle deviations. "Alright," repeated a few times by the officer to appease the woman, is switched with "AWRIGHT."12 Some dialogue between the woman and officer are blurred and expressed as ambiguous. For example, Dubiel's line of "You are going to go to crisis now," which is clearly identified in the official transcription, is replaced with "YOU'RE GOING [UNCLEAR] NOW."13 Any tense moments of yelling, chasing, and physical altercations are translated into the captions "[SCREAMING]," "[BANGING]," and "[RUNNING]."14 The pain of the woman is transcribed as a huge "OW!" covering the whole screen, and the brutal force of the officers is turned into "NOW!"15 Furthermore, the woman's desperate cries and the officer's brute barks are concluded with either an exclamation point, period, or dash. Towards the end of the video, when the woman yells her last "I DON'T DESERVE THIS!" the moving footage stops and smoothly shifts to the frozen image of (what seems to be) a person stepping into a house lit with a red light. This image holds for a few seconds, and the video fades to black.16 Compared to YHICHI's previous works packed with narratives and philosophical statements, these subtitles can be read without pausing the video. In this sense, texts fall on the fine line between being the visual component and language.

Not only the text, but music also revamp the footage. The rhythmical sounds of bass, drum, and cymbal also prelude the black screen, and the keyboard kicks in with the start of the video. As the music continues to play, the night street no longer feels silent and menacing, but rather adventurous and exciting. The situation escalates with the woman's panic, but the jazz melodies sustain its fairly quick pace, which enhances but also romanticizes the tension of the moment. This ambivalent role of the music fails to sympathize with the victim but dramatizes the story.

The result of YHCHI's video renovation is indecisive. On the one hand, their decision to utilize the police footage for their work draws attention to the chronic issue of police brutality in the United States and introduces the subject to Korean audiences. On the other hand, the addition of dramatic texts and music allow viewers to digest the real and highly traumatic situation as an aesthetic experience. Clinical captions of dialogues and action and the work's title neither add to nor explain the video's context of police brutality. Their mild recontextualization of footage is passive compared to the bold poetic statements the artists put forth in their other works. Perhaps conscious of the risk of using such a controversial medium, YHCHI made the decision not to include their trademark caption to start the Flash video. On their website, the end product is uploaded without any context or background information on police brutality or the BLM movement. Although this might be to keep the formatting of their website portfolio consistent, it further contributes to the rendering of the footage out of its context. Thus, whether the work will effectively raise awareness about its sociopolitical context is uncertain. YHCHI's statement on their subject, the recent BLM movement, and police brutality, is ambiguous.

During the same summer I encountered YHCHI's work, I noticed the similar weariness about the issue of police brutality in Korean social media.17 In some way, I WANT TO DIE SCREAMING UNCLEAR resembles Koreans' experience of encountering police footage from the United States. Living in a relatively "homogeneous society" in terms of race and ethnicity, Koreans in their own country may be less exposed to racial dynamics, systemic racism, and police bodycam footage. While the country is familiar with violent protest through clashes between social rights movement and the government from the late 1940s to '80s, most citizens object to violence and pride non-violent protests, especially after the candlelight protest (late 2016 and early 2017).18 Police deployed for riots or protests usually use nothing but plastic shields—no guns or pepper spray—to keep the masses in order.19 Hence, when encountering footages of police brutality, Korean citizens can sympathize on the individual level. However, while they feel the fear and emotional distress of victims, citizens might struggle to comprehend the United States' history and oppressive systems, structurally built to subjugate and enact violence on Black citizens. In the summer of 2020, the death of George Floyd sparked another wave of outrage, mourning, and BLM protests across the United States. Soon, with the instant circulation of video, images, and messages broadcasting the brutality and protests, the BLM movement physically and virtually expanded to an international setting. South Korea participated in this global anti-racist movement as well. By early June, many celebrities and social media users had posted messages of support, and about 100 protestors showed their solidarity on the Myeongdong street.20 Nonetheless, as the protests in the United States developed into violent clashes between protestors, rioters, and police forces, initial support and solidarity turned into reluctance in Korea. Street interviews conducted by the YouTube channels, such as Asian Boss and Korea Times, demonstrated this sentiment.21 Most interviewees addressed their sympathy towards George Floyd and expressed strong opposition against racism by puting George Floyd in the context of him being family, friend, father, etc.22 Many also recalled their experience of facing racial discrimination as tourists in foreign countries. On the whole, interviewee stressed that George Floyd, as a human being, did not deserve to suffer such an unjust fate. On the other hand, the same people also voiced their concern about the protest strategies or violence. One person explained that the rioting had "gone too far," and that it made her reluctant to show support on social media.23 Some argued violence blurred the essence of the movement and advised that the BLM movement should be about all races and ethnicities. While being sympathetic to the interpersonal racism, no interviewee showed an awareness to the structural racism—a core catalyst of the George Floyd protests. Consequently, this lack of understanding seems to lead to the sentiment blaming African-Americans for discriminating against Asians, which hindered with the focus of the BLM Movement.

This personal examination brings a question regarding the susceptibility to understand systemic racism (especially the one in the U.S.) in South Korea. Globally and locally, South Korea is generally perceived as a racially and ethnically homogeneous nation. According to the United Nations Rapporteur Mutuma Ruteere's 2014 report, while the country faces racist and xenophobic gestures towards increasing foreigner and migrant worker population, no racist practices are present at the institutional level.24 Nevertheless, this conception is ignorant; this popular conception is exactly what excuse the country's ignorance towards even its own systemic racism. During the region's dynastic periods, pre-Modern Korea (up to 1876) was not considered to be a mono-ethnicity or race.25 South Korea's ethnic, single-race, nationalism was developed after WWII, as a strategy to construct the collective identity of the new nation.26 By stressing ethnic and racial homogeneity, Korea was able to create internal solidarity and an unique national consciousness against the external threat of the Cold War.27 The country continues to solidify this ideology through a rapidly-developing society and economy.28 This relatively recent ideology, that is certainly not a natural or integral part of Korean history, persists with a sense of cultural superiority through contemporary politics.29 In her essay, "Is there no George Floyd in South Korea?," Sejin Kim, a Korean lawyer at the group Advocates for Public Interest Law, inspects the structural racism embedded in immigration laws for migrant labors and multicultural-marriage. She argues that these public policies naturalize racism in society which in turn creates neglect.30 Additionally, in the global economy, South Korea plays the role of a colonizer to Southeast Asian countries through exploitative labor system. Altogether, this mutual development of social and systemic racism exists but is concealed by the delusion of Korea being a single-race nation when it should be vigilantly addressed and discussed.

I WANT TO DIE SCREAMING UNCLEAR takes a tepid stance on issue of systemic anti-Black racism and police brutality in the U.S., a stance mirrored in sentiments expressed by Koreans on social media. From this visual and social examination, one question—among many unsolved ones—I want to continue thinking about is captured in Eunsong Kim's critique of global artist Nikki S. Lee and her Projects that emulates different races, ethnicities, and classes. Kim raises a critical question of what might be at stake when a non-Asian American artist's work flies through the question of visual appropriation. She argues that "treating it (the artwork) as a surface for our pleasures does not absolve our responsibility to the structures that make the surface possible."31 Kim's point hits the nail for discussing YHCHI's works. Known for their witty yet sharp criticism, YHCHI's works are attentive to both the South Korean consciousness and global philosophy. Even the work's lacking interactivity is often taken as the bold statement of the two artists. In comparison, their newest work deviates from their signature style and lands for being relatively passive. Instead of dubbing their usual philosophical narratives, YHCHI used texts to merely transcribe the dialogue of the unaltered found bodycam footage. The artists persisted on using the stylish improvised music to lead the story but not their trademark. The mild renovation is perhaps the result of the artists' consciousness to their politically saturated material and therefore restraining their own voice. Despite their intent, their renovation delivers the bodycam footage out of its sociopolitical context and is uploaded on the easily accessible web platform. This is where Kim's question comes in. What does such visual appropriation deserve? To make sense of this question, I look back at the similar ambivalent treatment of the recent BLM movement on Korean on social media. The passivity demonstrates an incomprehension of the systemic racism which is expected due to the perceived "homogeneity" of the country. However, this does not correctly reflect the history and contemporary diversity of South Korea. This naïve attitude disregards the country's economic repression overseas and racist immigration policy which creates public racism and susceptibility to xenophobia. Therefore, I argue that I WANT TO DIE SCREAMING UNCLEAR, a work of an artist based in non-Western country, cannot be immune from discourse of racism and contemporary politics. This isn't a call for the censorship, but rather a call for reasonable discussion around the artwork's inherent ties to society and politics. Through the perspectives presented by YHCHI, I hope the complexity of racism—that is more than interpersonal in Korea and black-white dichotomy in America—can be unraveled and expanded.

  1. Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries, "I WANT TO DIE SCREAMING UNCLEAR," Video 00:01.
  2. The artists have not published any information on when the work was created. The police footage used for the work, however, was publicly released by The New York Times on June 24, 2020. Looking at the update/upload footage of YHCHI's Vimeo, which is connected to their webpage, I can deduce that the work was uploaded between June and July 10, 2020.
  3. Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries, Pacific Limn, San Francisco, CA: Kadist, 2013, Afterword.
  4. Ibid.
  5. It is common in Korea for older people including politicians to dye their hair black or darker color as they age and their hair turns white. To YHCHI, politicians dying hair, hiding their white hairs, is a metaphor of their concealed corruptions. The group criticizes the politicians' focus on their looks while they are ignorant of what is going on in the society they are elected to serve and neglect their responsibilities. College Review, ""장영혜중공업이 전하는 '한국에서 살아남기.' / 'How to Survive in Korea' by Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries," Snunews, March 5, 2017.
  6. Hyun Joo Yoo, "Intercultural medium literature digital. Interview with YOUNG-HAE CHANG HEAVY INDUSTRIES," Dichtung-Digital, February 2005.
  7. Ibid.
  8. Warren Liu, "Posthuman Difference: Traveling to Utopia with Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries," Journal of transnational American studies 4, no.1 (2012): 20–.
  9. Rukmini Callimachi, "9 Departments and Multiple Infractions for One New Jersey Police Officer," NYTimes, June 24, 2020.
  10. Ibid.
  11. Ibid.
  12. Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries, "I WANT TO DIE SCREAMING UNCLEAR," Video 01:08.
  13. Ibid, 01:14.
  14. Ibid.
  15. Ibid, 00:51.
  16. Ibid, 2:40.
  17. Between May and September of 2020, I examined posts and comments about George Floyd and BLM movement on Instagram and Facebook pages equivalent to Korean version of Nowthisnews, such as Vmg.videomug, Subusunews, and Hey.news.
  18. Jason Strother, "How violent protests in South Korea became a thing of the past," The World, July 2, 2020, https://www.pri.org/stories/2020-07-02/how-violent-protests-south-korea-became-thing-past.

  19. Ibid.

  20. Ji Hee Byun. "'흑인의 생명도 소중하다'…서울서도 조지 플로이드 추모행진 / 'Black Lives matter'…George Floyd Protest in Seoul." ChosunBiz news. June 6, 2020. https://biz.chosun.com/site/data/html_dir/2020/06/06/2020060601797.html.

  21. During this time, many social media groups focused on America-Korea relationship created contents examining Korea's comprehension and reaction to the on-going BLM movement.
  22. Asian Boss. "Koreans React To George Floyd's Death and Protests In the US: Street Debate." YouTube Video 15:33. June 3, 2020. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ckPd1tFSONs.
  23. Korea Times. "Black Lives Matter: What Do Koreans Really Think About BLM Protests?" YouTube Video 5:29. June 18, 2020. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbD4RbmdN5M.
  24. United Nations. "Republic of Korea: UN rights experts urgess to adoption of anti-discrimination law." News.un.org, October 9, 2014. https://news.un.org/en/story/2014/10/480672-republic-korea-un-rights-experts-urges-adoption-anti-discrimination-law.
  25. Kyung Koo Han. "The Archaeology of the Ethnically Homogeneous Nation-State and Multiculturalism in Korea." Korea Journal, 47, no. 4 (2007): 8–31.
  26. Gi-Wook Shin. Ethnic Nationalism in Korea: Genealogy, Politics, and Legacy. CA: Standford University Press, 2006. (224–227).
  27. Ibid.
  28. Ibid.
  29. Ibid.
  30. Sejin Kim. "Is There No George Floyd in South Korea?" East Asia Foundation, No. 142, July 14, 2020.
  31. Eun Song Kim. "Nikki S. Lee's 'Projects'—And the Ongoing Circulation of Blackface, Brownface in 'Art.'" Contemporary.org., May 30, 2015.