Group Exhibition: Have you eaten today?May 16 – Jun 12, 2025

Though the phrase Bap meogeosseoyo? (밥먹었어요?) directly translates to “Have you eaten?”, it is a common greeting in Korean—a time-honored way of asking how someone is doing. Bap, meaning rice or a meal, frequently appears in Korean expressions, reflecting the cultural emphasis on nourishment as a foundation of being. The phrase is also deeply Korean in its politeness: its mundane and specific nature respects the boundaries of privacy while inviting a range of responses. Making use of this as a title, Have you eaten today? draws our attention to eating as one of the most fundamental acts of care, and an intimate form of relating to the world.

Set in a 1929 Spanish colonial residence, the inaugural show at Casa Francis presents works by nine artists that meditate on the theme of sustenance. Painter John Zabawa’s canvas depicts rice, a staple in Korean cuisine, while Will Calver’s still lifes portray three kinds of nuts prevalent in California: walnut, almond, and pistachio. Their hard shells, whether cracked open or fully enclosed, nudge at our tactile desire to wedge open and consume—yet contained within each is a dormant possibility for new life. Calver’s canvases frequently illustrate plants and fruits that bloom, ripen, wilt, and decay: impermanent subjects guided by the temporal rhythms of life and death. These depictions of sustenance, in its most elemental form, not only render food as a form of nourishment, but as a medium through which the body and the land commune and cycles of life can be keenly experienced.

Elsewhere in the gallery, food is alluded to through its absence. A quiet sense of invitation permeates the gathering of what appears to be soft pebbles; Christina Kim of dosa has created cushions inspired by her childhood in Korea, particularly her memories of volcanic Jeju Island. The organic forms take their cue from five pebbles from the artist’s personal collection. Resourcefulness—a value shared between Kim’s oeuvre and Korean culinary culture—comes to the fore in the Pebble Series. With the help of Mumbai-based natural dyeing workshop Adiv, the artist made use of pulverized pomegranate peel and other botanical materials to create the subtle and unique patterns found on each cushion. During a visit to a Hindu temple, Kim learned of nirmalya, or “remnants" in Sanskrit. These sacred offerings of flower garlands and food, once ritually blessed, are handled with care even in their disposal— and some were used to leave their imprint on Kim’s fabric. The ongoing collaboration with Adiv renders the monoprint as an imprint of contact between the dye and the fabric, between the artist and her collaborators, and between cultures.

In a parallel gesture, the simplicity found in photographer Koo Bohnchang’s works emphasize the everyday, taking as its subject the humble spoon. The stillness in his photographs attunes us to the spoons’ patina, revealing itself through an accumulation of daily use, making the act of consumption as a continuation of tradition. The playful, subtle curves are not only an aesthetic decision, but a practical and carefully meditated space informed by generations of culinary heritage. Koo’s poetic portrait of spoons—from their origin in the Goryeo dynasty to contemporary times—brings our attention to the vast culture that guides our relationship with sustenance.

Echoing this sensibility, Nancy Kwon’s ceramics draw their formal inspiration from Korean ceremonial vessels. Kwon’s empty vessels embody her wishes for harmony and protection, symbolized by the celadon glaze and intentional choice of imagery. Similarly, Rahee Yoon’s lustrous acrylic vases—minimal and organic in form—recall the restrained beauty that is characteristic of Korean culture. Through meticulous sanding, Yoon reveals subtle expressions within the material while physically shaping space for water.

Further inside the exhibition space, the works of Ash Roberts and Yoona Hur inhabit each of the two bedrooms, offering a private space for contemplation. Every act of ingestion is followed by digestion, and here, art functions as a catalyst for the digestion of one’s lived experience. Roberts’s use of a folding screen, as well as imagery of curtains, creates privacy that facilitates a deeper connection to ourselves. In this new body of work, Roberts deploys silver paint and silver leaf to draw our attention to the ambiguity of appearances, and how “silver linings” can be found within, as the world around us shifts. In the adjoining room, Hur’s Inner Knowing series demonstrates the artist’s mature use of hanji, combined with circular forms and lines of pigment that expand beyond the canvas. The fragmentary compositions remind us that reality is always transmuting and partial. In Hur's paintings, trust permeates in place of the unknown, suggesting interconnectedness rather than separation. The work of both artists, placed in secluded parts of the home, highlights their source of sustenance as one that is derived from prolonged introspection, and asks us to look within.

Lindsey Chan, of Office of BC, created site-specific functional pieces for the show, which consider art in relation to the domestic. Her fireplace screen combines copper rods with shou sugi ban, a traditional Japanese technique for burning the surface of wood to offer durability and protection. The charred wood structure safeguarding the house from fire recalls the recent wildfires that affected surrounding communities in LA. The artist’s choice of shou sugi ban, therefore, can be read as a gesture of hope and resilience: an offering of care, both symbolic and literal, to the home and its inhabitants.

Each meal connects us to where we are from—whether geographic, cultural, or ontological—and reminds us that the daily act of eating is a willing participation in life and tradition. Making bap is an exercise of intuition and attention. From rinsing the rice to the final acts of consumption, nothing goes to waste. The water you rinse the rice with makes a base for a warm bowl of soup or stew. Every measurement relies on attentive, embodied intuition: you gauge the water by gently placing your fingers on the bed of rice, you listen to the soft percussion and notice the scent of each grain to know when it’s ready to come off the heat. Tteum, a brief moment of patience before uncovering the pot, is required for every good bowl of rice. This knowledge is passed down alongside a belief: that grains communicate with us. Our interaction with food deepens through learning its language and our commitment to listen. The land communicates to us through meals, asking us to notice all the ways in which we are cared for.

So when someone asks, “Have you eaten today?”—they are asking:

Are you taking care of yourself?

Are you paying attention to your everyday, to the changes in season, and to those around you?

Are you connected to the world that sustains you?