Subscribe to get access
Read more of this content when you subscribe today.
Read more of this content when you subscribe today.
Kim Hyun: I didn’t intend to specifically use the lives of LGBT+ people as the theme of my poems. Rather, this naturally blended into my works because I write poems based on my own life. However, because there hasn’t been a Korean poem highlighting an LGBT+ person’s life as the main theme, I do try to write poems that can be representative.
And by rendering LGBT+ people’s lives along with political issues, I attempted to defy the erasure of LGBT+ people or the estrangement of them as “a very special existence.” I wanted to portray the lives of LGBT+ people as who they are: citizens who stand in the square holding candlelights, laborers who sweat in workplaces, and activists who rise against hatred, discrimination, and violence.
I think it’s an artist’s responsibility to break the rules. For a long time, I wrote poems while asking if they can be entirely fictitious. If I actively impose fictionality to a poem, what would it become? Non-poetry? Can’t that make it even more poetic? These were the questions and anticipations I had. I thought I would compile elements considered non-poetic and make them into something poetic. And footnotes are one of the tools I used to realize this determination. Nonetheless, I didn’t want to consume the footnotes by turning them into direct quotations. So I conflated truth and falsity in the footnotes. In my second poetry anthology, I used these things that look like footnotes and called them “dissolves.” If the first poetry anthology uses footnotes to create poetic tension in the gap spanning truth and falsity, the second anthology uses “dissolves” in a way that demands several poetic moments to overlap, thereby expanding the horizon of the poem endlessly. In the bilingual Korean-English anthology, I called the things that look like footnotes “sounds” and tried to put a human voice into the poems.
It’s not that I thought that these three elements are bound together in a special way. It would be more accurate to say that I was looking at the LGBT+ (movement) history and wondered how loneliness and the deaths of many individuals were entangled with history. Since I am a person in the present, it’s impossible not to think about those from the past.
I received a similar question one day, and I answered, “Love is everything to me” in one breath. If someone asks if I still feel the same, I think I’d take ten more seconds before answering “yes.” And I think these ten seconds are the reason I continue to write and create artwork. These days, hearing “love” instantly reminds me of “alliance.” How far can my and our love expand?
Last February, I published the second poetry anthology When the Lips Open, in which I put together my poems written from 2013 to 2015. And a bilingual Korean-English poetry anthology is about to be published in the first half of this year. I named the collection The Future of Sadness, and I chose twenty poems written after 2015. I’ve also collected the scripts for my third anthology, and I’m now working on poems for the fourth anthology.
Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.