Remembering Yong Soon Min, a Pioneer of Asian American Art
On March 12, artist Yong Soon Min passed away at her home in Los Angeles surrounded by family and friends after a long battle with cancer. She was 70 years old. A pioneering Korean American artist whose multidisciplinary practice explored the intersections of race, class, gender, and diasporic identities, Min was pivotal in shaping the foundations of the Asian American artistic community during the ‘80s and ‘90s. During her time in New York, she was a founding member of groups including Godzilla: Asian American Art Network and Asian American Arts Alliance, where she also served on the Board of Directors.
Min’s steadfast commitment to community building would go with her to Los Angeles, where she moved in 1993 to teach at UC Irvine. She would serve as professor emerita there until her death; a testament to her enduring, nurturing, generous spirit and unwavering belief in others. Min’s involvement in Asian American arts advocacy was invaluable and stayed with her in every chapter of her life, advising organizations like GYOPO in recent years where she co-founded their steering committee.
A mentor and friend to so many, in the weeks since her passing, it’s been extraordinary to see the extent of her impact. I have been lucky enough to have known Min since I was an infant. A close family friend, she modeled an honest, uncompromising interrogation of the politics of the self as an Asian American woman artist, leaving an indelible impression on me from a young age. Her legacy with A4 was one of the main reasons why I decided to apply to create and edit this magazine.
This past winter, my family visited Min in her home and studio as she prepared her work for a series of upcoming shows. Never one to elide realities, Min anticipated that these exhibitions would be posthumous. In light of Min’s passing, I asked my mom if she would be willing to share reflections and memories of one of her most cherished friends for the A4 community.
Found out that Yong Soon died. We last saw her in December at her home in Los Angeles as she walked us through her work; her various stages. She spoke of each piece like they were her children. The world knew her as an artist and a pioneer as an Asian American. I knew her as a wonderfully kind, humble person who never took herself too seriously and made others comfortable to just be themselves.
In the early ‘90s, I had given birth out of wedlock in my late 20s and felt shunned by my family, friends, and many in the Korean American community. Only the artist community openly accepted me. Yong Soon was like a big sister to me, always there to welcome me into her world even if I knew nothing about art. When I would come by her studio in Brooklyn, she would always take the time to explain what she was working on, what effect she was trying to achieve, and would always ask my opinion. She made me feel like my thoughts actually mattered.
In her home studio 30 years later, she still had that effect as she showed us her pieces. “Which do you like better?” she would ask.
When I was finally ready to marry the father of my child—when I felt that I wasn’t being forced into it—the only person I wanted to tell was Yong Soon. I knew she wouldn’t judge me, ask if I was sure, or worry for me. She let me borrow her own wedding ring and came to the courthouse to be our witness. Her then partner, Al-An deSouza, took the only picture I have of that day.
Yong Soon was busy in those days, always working on different projects, going from painting to installation, from exploring avant-garde minimalism to identity politics and interrogating what it meant to be a Korean American woman.
I recall she did a bunch of outdoor installations at Battery Park, then an indoor exhibition using a white Korean hanbok where she wrote words on it. Then, the New York Public Library in Flushing commissioned her to work on their building. She used frosted etched glass to create beautiful flowers that were embedded into the stairs leading into the library. The flowers extended into the children’s wing. We lived in Flushing at the time and I remember taking my young daughter Shannon there, thrilled to be walking on the steps that Yong Soon had beautified.
It was such an act of generosity and compassion to provide the majority immigrant community who lived in Flushing the luxury of being able to walk on frosted flower petals to enter the library. It gave the weary heart a moment of joy and enlightenment, of lightness and otherworldliness, for just the length of the steps into the library. I recall feeling giddy that I knew the person who had brought this joy into the lives of so many. I was so filled with awe and pride. It was one of the first times I felt the power of art and its effect on our lives.
The last time I connected with Yong Soon before her passing, she described her journey with her cancer and the fight with time. “There is still so much to do, but not enough time,” she said. I was grateful that we could visit her in her home. She expressly wanted us to come by so she could show us all her pieces, all her little children. She tenderly walked us through different periods of her work and explained each piece. So powerful and so different.
I had only known her identity pieces starting with her drawings based on photographs of her mom on the bus in Korea. Seeing her earlier work inspired by French minimalism and cinema made me realize how deep and honest a person must become to get their vision and message down to such bare essentials. That was her beginning… that bareness was what makes a person so humble. I will miss this reminder of how to be genuine.
Yong Soon Min’s work is currently on view as part of the exhibition “Scratching at the Moon” at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, as well as “GODZILLA: Echoes from the 1990s Asian American Arts Network” at Eric Firestone Gallery in New York.
