HA KYOON was born in South Korea, raised in France and is currently based in Paris. The body and physicality have always been central to his work, whether in the performing arts or music. With a circus, dance & acting background, he has collaborated with different artists in the performing arts field (Christophe Honoré, Damien Manivel, Philippe Quesne, Clédat & Petitpierre, Phia Ménard, Marcela Santander Corvalàn, Ruth Childs … ) and toured many countries and cities since 2009. He co-created, together with Tsirihaka Harrivel & Vimala Pons, the collective Ivan Mosjoukine and the performance “De Nos Jours [Notes on the Circus]” in 2012. His eponymous musical project HA KYOON (in permanent mutation) utilizes trigged drum, machines, synths and voice.
Are you at a residency right now?
Yes, I’m at a residency with choreographer Steven Michel at STUK in Leuven (BE).
What is the project about?
It’s still in the early stages. It’s a dance piece, primarily about apophenia, ghosts, time and perception—a kind of investigation into the invisible. How to embody the non-visible through bodies and sound. We’re still in the research stage; the premiere will be in Gent next March.
And you do the sound, or do you also do the performance part?
I’m participating as a dancer-performer this time.
You have a background in performance, body movement, and circus. Sometimes you work on a project as a musician, other times as a performer – how do you differentiate between the two?
Mainly I do performance. I’ve worked for other artists (Philippe Quesne, Phia Ménard, Ruth Childs, Marcela Santander Corvalàn …) while developing my own work as a performer.
Music came later. I usually never compose music for others, but I did it for the first time last April in Seattle; I was invited by the artist Lavinia Vago to work on her FKK performanceat an old electric power plant. It opened up the possibility of doing it more often and it was a really good experience, being surrounded by amazing artists.
So yes, body work and music have always been somewhat separated in my practice. But now I feel it’s the right time to work on a new performance and put together music, dance, and movement.
Is there a reason that you don’t make music for other people, or do you just want to keep it as your own creative endeavour?
There’s no reason, really—just circumstances, I guess. I’ve needed, and still need, time to develop each practice (both body and sound).
How did you get into performance?
After high school, I attended circus schools (ENACR, CNAC) for six years to study acrobatics, specialising in the Chinese pole and handstands. We also had contemporary dance classes. I also went to the National Conservatory of Dramatic Art in Paris. So I was already looking for something in between—between circus, dance and theatre. The body has always been the starting point.
And what about circus?
Well, in high school, I wanted to become an actor. Then I saw a contemporary circus performance, and the way they used their body shocked me; it opened a door inside me.
Circus is such an old-school thing, in quite a romantic way. The idea of a travelling performance troupe, living on the road and visiting different places.
Yes, of course, this classic idea of circus happily still exists, but somehow, I’ve never been particularly drawn to that circus folklore. We used to live in caravans at school and learn the techniques, but since the 80s, circus schools, especially in France, wanted to develop a new vision. Most performers, musicians and artists are still doing that—travelling and living on the road—just without the tent, haha!
How did you then get into making your own music? Was it because when you were performing, you were inspired by the music and wanted to get into that as well? Or where did it come from?
For several years, I worked with a small collective of four people, and when it ended, I felt I needed to return to myself. So, in a very self-taught way, my first music project ever came about, a one-man-band with a drum kit, two drumsticks in my right hand, playing synth with my left hand, and a mic in a headphone. “Why make things simple?” The energy was heavily influenced by krautrock music like Can, or other bands such as Deerhoof, Lightning Bolt, or Melt Banana. The starting point was to approach the sound or music through a physical experience, executed with an acrobatic mindset – “ make possible what looks impossible”.
And what is it about physicality that attracts you?
There are some artists that really push boundaries and make you think about your own condition and your life, somehow. Body physicality is interesting to me, not only the technical aspect but also in terms of how the physicality produces the sensational in the primary sense— what creates the sensational in bodies, whether we are transmitters or receivers. It’s a way to reconnect with our own body.
When you perform, do you aim to create spaces for some sort of togetherness?
Somehow, my performances are always collaborations, but with different impulses. When I work for other artists, I’m more in their service, driven by their visions. For my own work, I usually work alone, both in terms of the music and the live act. But I’m open to collaborations, of course. Working for others and developing my own work are highly complementary processes. Moving between the two is vital for me, as each enriches the other.
Even from a production and economic perspective, I think this dynamic influences the process; working on a piece can take two years in the head and nine weeks in a studio, more or less. In the performance field (the one I know) I would say that there is more structure, money and time. In contrast, the music field feels rawer, but that creates an urgency, a drive that I like.
I guess for a lot of musicians it’s quite hard to survive solely through music these days, and many are trying to get into the performance or theatre scene, which, at least until now, has been better funded.
Yeah, definitely. But I’m in a privileged situation. I earn my living through performing, and in France, there’s a special status for artists that provides support during inactive periods under certain conditions. (Though who knows how long that will last?).
You went from performance to music. What advice would you give to people who would actually want to get from music to performance and theatre?
Honestly, I don’t know. Do what you feel you need to. Maybe have a really strong interest in the body… for better communication and for mutual understanding.
I remember the composer of a film by Akira Kurosawa (Fumyo Hayasaka, I think), talking about how image and music complete each other. The same could be said about the body and music in performances.
In terms of the body, self-care is also important, not just physically but also mentally. How do you care for yourself in this respect?
By going to a lot of parties, haha! It really depends; I’m not exactly the master of self-care. It depends on the time: sometimes I really need to stretch myself and do yoga or breathing exercises, and drink tea every day; and sometimes I go to an after party and stay awake for 30 hours. It’s an experience of endurance, of pushing my limits. I find my balance in extremes, somehow.
And in terms of music, what are you working on right now?
I’m still touring my live act, the same one I’ve toured for years, but it’s in a permanent state of mutation. We are evolving side by side, in a way. I’m looking for residencies where I can develop a performance that lies between dance and sound, probably with more of a narrative, a slower tempo and more organic textures. I did a first draft at Lafayette Anticipation in Paris last December, for now the working title is ‘Shoulder Blades or Shields of the Heart’. I’m also working on improving my production techniques on the computer…
Do you have anybody you learn from or are inspired by in terms of your practice?
Yes, many. I learn by listening or observing. I really enjoy long walks in the mountains, which are very conducive to thinking. When it comes to performing, Jan Bas Ader influenced me greatly. But in general, movie directors like Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Hou Hsiao Hsien, Wang Bing, Kelly Reichardt, or the French photographer Marie Quéau.
Of course, I also admire a lot of musicians (not an exhaustive list): Hiro Kone, Tot Onyx, Radon, Luka Aron, bela, Lord Spikeheart, Meuko! Meuko!, Dis Fig, Fitness, Mirrored Fatality,
Fiesta En el Vacio, JS Donny, Danse Musique Rhône Alpes, and many more.
When you play your own music, how important is the performative, presentation part to you?
Very important. My body is extended by those simple objects like snares and cymbals.
For me, there has to be a physical connection between the body and the machines.
I try to inject punk energy into performing (not in a musical form). I like the rawness and direct energy of performing, having a kind of urgency, full of rage and deep joy at being together with the audience.
Does the reaction of people have an impact on your performance?
Yes, totally. I know my set but I play very differently according to the audience’s energy.
Sometimes, I really feel that I’m stuck in the machines and that I cannot extend the body as I’d envisioned, and other times, I really feel the people around me and that there is something happening.
It’s hard to predict how people react.
Definitely, we just have to do what we want to do. Prepare a good surprise for the people we love.
What are you planning for next year?
I will have dates for two dance pieces, and will continue to look for gigs, as well as prepare the performance I mentioned earlier, but I’m a bit slow, to be honest.
I think it’s good to be slow. Everything is so fast these days. It’s good to slow down a bit.
You’re right. But I’m very slow all the time, so sometimes it’s good to speed up a bit.
How are you affected by what’s going on in the world? Are you able to focus on your art and work, perhaps as a way to divert attention from all the negativity that surrounds us?
Of course, I’m affected by what’s happening around us—what’s happening in Palestine, Lebanon, Georgia, South Korea and many other countries, as well as here in France.
Sometimes, it’s really overwhelming. But we don’t have any choice but to carry on and stay active, to do what’s in our power and refuse to close our eyes to things. We can do fundraising events, make donations, and help in many ways, even though somehow it’s never enough.
It’s also tricky – how much power do artists and cultural workers really have to enact change when most of what’s happening in the world is dictated by politicians and corporations.
I guess there are many different layers; politicians and corporations are one thing and politics is something else. Our bodies are channels, whatever we do; we receive and we have to transform and give back. Whether we embody politics—through art, discussions, or any other form of action—and however we choose to share our time and space, perhaps the important thing is to stay together, to go to protests and not stay isolated in our own minds. At the very least, we can create hope in hope.
Interview Lucia Udvardyova
Photo Chloe Magdeleine