Do we need platforms anymore? New Trend for Internationalism in Korea

#Trends #Translocal #Platform #PowerRelations

A few days ago, one of Seoul’s most celebrated dance groups, Ambiguous Dance Company, performed their long-standing repertoire, Body Concert, at the prestigious Seoul Arts Centre to celebrate 15 years of the show. Interestingly, the company independently rented the theatre for 12 days without any funding or sponsorship, staging 15 performances.

I've often felt uneasy about the typical scheduling of dance performances—often lasting just one or two days—which makes it difficult for producers to promote and limits word-of-mouth reach. Reviews often become irrelevant, published after shows have already ended, leaving little opportunity for repeat performances. Despite innovation and technological advancements in the broader performing arts scene, the distribution of dance performances remains marginal, echoing Baumel’s longstanding critique of performing arts economic structures.

Yet Ambiguous Dance Company isn't alone in experimenting with extended runs. Modern Table, led by Kim Jae-duck, performed their renowned piece Darkness Poomba 30 times in 2019. Kim noted in an interview with Dance Webzine Korea that he would have gladly extended it to two months to build a larger following. My husband, who is relatively new to contemporary dance, asked me candidly after seeing this performance, "Is he rich?" His practical concern wasn’t disrespectful—rather, he wondered if such efforts were financially viable or whether artists would risk personal loss to sustain their art.

Indeed, Ambiguous Dance Company initially experienced empty seats, but by the final days, performances were sold out. Ticket prices were also notably higher (60,000-100,000 KRW, about twice that of typical contemporary dance shows), yet the price didn't deter dedicated fans. The company's status has transcended traditional art spaces, resembling more of a "super-artist" phenomenon—comparable more to K-pop concerts than typical contemporary dance events. Their broader appeal across media, fashion, and popular culture has established a robust fanbase independent from traditional arts platforms.

Ambiguous Dance Company illustrates a broader shift: Korean arts enthusiasts now increasingly connect directly with individual artists rather than relying on traditional festivals or curated platforms. Every year when I meet first-year university arts students, a large majority consistently name independent artists rather than prominent festivals or established organizations as their favorites. For example, Ki Mugan and Choi Hojong, who rose to fame through the TV show Stage Fighter on Mnet Korea, cultivated their fanbase (57-68K followers) largely through social media rather than through conventional theatre spaces or festivals (A few people know Choi was a dancer of Korea National Dance Company).

Previously, theaters, festivals, and art markets acted as gatekeepers, introducing hidden talents. Now, independent artists directly and quickly engage their audiences, signaling a significant power shift. This transformation also impacts international artistic exchanges. Thirty or so years ago, major Korean festivals such as SIDance (founded in 1998) and MODAFE (1982) introduced legendary European artists, captivating audiences unfamiliar with these international scenes. As Korean artists gained international exposure, however, local audiences and artists began to recognize the problematic dynamics resembling cultural colonization—festivals often paid international artists significantly more and prioritized them over local talent. Festival, also acted as an active agent for international exchange and asked local dancers to perform with a small fee with a hopful opportunity of 'international platform'. The power imbalance prompted many artists to resist or deprioritize these traditional platforms. (Festivals named above are still thriving but I question about the influences they have now compared to those independent artists)

This phenomenon isn’t limited to dance. The Korean music industry has similarly grappled with "platform closure," where dominant streaming services like MelOn disproportionately promoted artists associated with their parent companies. Independent musicians struggled for visibility, prompting them to turn to alternative platforms such as YouTube, TikTok, Twitch, and SoundCloud. Even major companies like Kakao Entertainment are now pivoting, developing new fan-focused platforms to bridge artists and audiences directly.

South Korea is frequently celebrated as a global hub for contemporary art, blending tradition and innovation. Yet, the critical question now is how to center the arts ecosystem more directly around artists, fostering a locally-informed, artist-centric model rather than relying solely on centralized platforms.

Ultimately, platforms are still needed—but perhaps in a fundamentally different way. We need platforms willing to genuinely reconnect artists and audiences, centering authentic, artist-driven, and locally-informed experiences. It’s time to reshape the system to empower artists and communities equally.

I am also hoping to meet international artists who makes an anthropological and translocalistic approach to our culture. Someone who tries to understand our communities, societies, and urgency. Someone who doesn't preach us but who can unlearn the contexts together.