U-ram Choe

At the age of seven, Choe created a self portrait with the hep of his father;[8]^: 61 it showed a pair of robots, one of an anthropomorphic form and the other shaped like a fish. Rendered in oil and charcoal, the robots do not have external features; instead their forms' outlines encase systems of machine-like parts.[5]^: 15 In 2012, Choe revisited this work by creating a sculptural version. It featured a robot form with similarly outstretched arms, surrounded by an array of tools and planning drawings.

After an exploratory period creating various sculptures with robotic elements during the late 1990s, in the early 2000s Choe began to apply robotic movement and engineering to fantastical, animal-like forms.[8]^: 70 Termed "anima-machines," these moving sculptures pursue the relationship between—and coexistence of—nature and machines.[6]^: 109[10] Most have Latin-esque titles, reminiscent of binomial nomenclature, the scientific naming of animals,[5]^: 10–11[7] and many were accompanied by allegorical narratives when the sculptures were exhibited.[5]^: 11[7]

One example of Choe's anima-machine works is Custos Cavum (2011). First inspired by a documentary on antarctic seals who use their front teeth to gnaw through underwater ice, the work's moving ribs meticulously mimic the breathing movements of mammals.[2]^: 125 When exhibited, Custos Cavum was accompanied by a mythical narrative; it describes a guardian creature who gnawed holes between two worlds to keep them connected, until it went extinct.[5]^: 50

Beginning in 2012, Choe turned his focus from pursuing new levels of technical sophistication to social context as he broadened his scope beyond depicting animal-machines to examining power dynamics in contemporary society.[5]^: 10–11[6]^{: 109–110} Choe's Ouroboros (2012) was among the sculptures that marked this shift. A snake-like sculpture of a creature eating its own tail, the work alludes to the insatiability of human greed.[10]

Among these recent works, URC-1 (2014) considers machinery's cyclical existence in society, from being produce to discarded, and later to being repurposed.[10] The work amasses over 150 junked car headlights into a spherical, glowing nest. Collected from Hyundai Motors' junkyard, the headlights appear resurrected in Choe's sculpture.[10]

Another example is Pink Hysteria (2018), in which a group of pink flowers stand as a metonymy for collective society.[10] Inspired by Choe’s reflections on North vs. South Korea societies amidst the 2018 Olympics, the work encases group of flowers within four glass walls, which constrains their wave-like movements.[11] In 2022, Choe developed a new body of over 49 works for a solo exhibition at the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, Korea; together, these works probe questions of human destiny.[12][13] Bearing the exhibition's title, the work Little Ark opened questions where humanity is headed while using recycled and repurposed consumer cardboard for its oars.[13] Works such as One and Red were made of Tyvek—the fibrous material that makes up hazmat suits, notably worn by medical workers during the pandemic, that also looks like Hanji.[14]