Every month, a new question
across the boundaries of media

Kim Hoseong did not arrive at contemporary art by the usual studio route. He first studied history at Kyung Hee University, then photography at Chung-Ang University. The two fields share a quiet logic: history is the discipline of reading what has already happened; photography is the discipline of fixing what is happening now.

That double training shows in the temper of his work. His early photography and video took the desire and wandering of modern people as subject — not as documentary record but as a way of looking hard at the restlessness of contemporary life. The camera was a lens for examining the present as if it were already a kind of history.

From there his practice opened outward, refusing to settle into a single medium. What began with the photographic image became a wider field of concept art — a movement from recording toward questioning.

Between 2018 and 2019, Kim Hoseong ran a gallery that was open twenty-four hours a day and had no attendant — an unmanned space anyone could enter at any hour. There, every month, he mounted a new exhibition under the title 〈Monthly Project〉.

The structure was itself a concept. A monthly cadence is a discipline: it leaves no room to wait for the perfect work, and forces making and showing into a continuous rhythm. The unmanned, always-open gallery removed the usual thresholds of art — opening hours, a watching attendant, a fixed audience — and left the work to meet whoever happened to arrive.

Across that run he presented a wide range of concept art. The Monthly Project reads less as a series of separate shows than as a single sustained gesture: the act of keeping a space and a practice open, month after month, as a form in its own right.

After the Monthly Project, Kim Hoseong has continued to experiment across the boundaries of media, unfolding reflections on humanity, art, and society as works. Rather than mastering one form, he treats each medium as a question to be tested and then left behind.

His recent solo exhibitions carry that conceptual temper in their very titles. 〈This Is Not an Exhibition〉 (2025, N2 ART SPACE) turns the frame of the show back on itself; 〈Wild Grass Grows As It Will〉 (2025, Rigak Museum of Art) lets an image of unruly growth stand for a way of working that resists being tidied into a single line.

Across photography, video, and the concept works between them, the through line is a refusal to settle — a practice that keeps asking what art is, who it is for, and how a single person might keep making, month after month, without waiting for permission. He joins this campaign not as a subject of its cause but as a fellow artist in solidarity.