EVERYTHING IS MUSIC

A bicycle ride serves as an introduction to the symphony of life.

As a youngster cycles through town, music is everywhere, from children’s mezzo forte laughter to the “swing, swish, sway” of leaves rustling in the breeze. It also manifests visually in the scenery: Vines on a fence curl gently into bass and treble clefs; the spraying spiral of a park fountain, seen from above, becomes a cello’s scroll. A storm approaches as the dark-haired cyclist, clad in a red dress, stops to take in a panoramic cityscape, where decibel level readings jut up like skyscrapers, alluding to the ubiquity of urban noise. When the rain arrives, a crosswalk approximates a set of piano keys played by pedestrian feet, raindrops plinking upon the ground nearby. As the rain clears, the child heads down a tree-lined parkway, angled sideways on the page so the parting trees become a trumpet. While Park’s spare text, translated from Korean, occasionally highlights specific sounds, this is primarily a collection of enticing images—pen-precise black-and-white drawings of neighborhoods and natural settings, shot through with shocks of yellow that illuminate instruments and musical notations in everyday objects and empty space. Often the images are viewed at curious angles; seen from above, below, or turned on their side, they become more magnificent and musical than they appear at first glance. In the minimalist artwork, characters have skin the white of the page.

An aesthetically elegant celebration of auditory pleasures.