In weightless virtual age, Antony Gormley calls us back to body

Together with Japanese architect Tadao Ando, British sculptor Antony Gormley has conceived Ground, an underground dome-shaped sanctuary that houses Gormley's cast iron sculptures. It is the new permanent installation at Museum SAN in Wonju, Gangwon Province. Courtesy of Museum SAN

WONJU, Gangwon Province — To encounter the latest vision conjured by British sculptor Antony Gormley, you must first ascend a lush mountaintop in Gangwon Province, where the sprawling Museum SAN beckons.

But upon reaching the summit, the journey must continue — this time inward and downward, into the earth itself.

Only by climbing down the spiral staircase of a small concrete structure nestled within the museum’s flower garden can you discover what lies hidden below: a cavernous, dome-shaped sanctuary that feels as raw as it is reverent.

This subterranean chamber, aptly named Ground, is the fruit of a momentous collaboration between Gormley and celebrated Japanese architect Tadao Ando.

“Normally, I am always putting my work or conceiving my work for already existing spaces. This is the first time in my life that the space and the work grew together,” the 74-year-old Gormley said, his voice echoing off the curved walls as his gaze swept across the concrete shell with wonder.

Scattered across Ground are seven of Gormley's rust-hued sculptures, called "Blockworks," assembled from stacked metal blocks into abstract human forms. Courtesy of Museum SAN

Though minimal, Ground is quietly transcendent.

A circular oculus crowns the dome’s apex, allowing a singular shaft of sunlight to pierce through — a celestial gesture, evocative of the Pantheon in Rome.

But unlike the Pantheon, which seals itself off from the living world, the chamber opens itself to the surrounding nature through a wide, arched threshold. This portal brings the outside elements — light and rain, wind and birdsong, the ridgeline of the mountain beyond — into the solemn stillness of the space.

“Ando and I wanted to open that closed idea of architecture as a protector, a shelter, a monument to the past,” the sculptor said.

Scattered across the dome are seven of Gormley’s rust-hued sculptures, called “Blockworks,” assembled from stacked metal blocks into abstract human forms. Each figure appears to be in a different state of repose: bowing, crouching, lying face down or face up, sitting with legs outstretched.

Ground opens itself to the surrounding nature through a wide, arched threshold. Newsis

He describes these humanoids as “still, silent stations” — stopping points that invite us to reflect on our own posture and movements. They remind us that we, too, are bodies suspended in space, shaped by the slow, steady force of time.

“These works don’t exist until there are people looking at them, feeling and thinking and participating in this space,” he noted. “I see them really as a ground for the viewer’s own body.”

The sculptures’ material plays a key role in this parallel: iron, which gradually transforms through its interaction with the atmosphere.

“Rust is very important to me, because this is how the nature of iron in relation to air expresses itself,” he explained. “The red of iron, when exposed to oxygen, is the same as the red in our blood, which transmits oxygen from the air to our muscles. The red of the sun, the red of iron and the red of blood are all connected.”

Set within the ethereally lit dome — a space that feels primordial, even planetary — Gormley’s rusted humans seem to ask: Where do we and our bodies stand in the grand scheme of things, in nature and in the cosmos?

There’s a kind of monastic peace to be found in that inquiry. Not in the promise of an answer, but in the quiet invitation to simply dwell within the question.

A scale model for Ground / Courtesy of Tadao Ando, Antony Gormley and Museum SAN

The opening of Ground as a permanent installation at Museum SAN coincides with Gormley’s largest-ever solo exhibition in Korea, staged in the museum’s main hall.

Titled “Drawing on Space,” the show offers a concentrated look at the Turner Prize-winning artist’s ongoing exploration of the human body — not merely as a subject to depict, but as a vessel of transformation, a site where matter and space converge.

Early in his career, the sculptor became known for casting his own body in plaster and encasing it in lead, creating dense figures that spoke to containment and interiority. Over time, the human form remained central to his work, but became less figurative: more abstract, more open and far more colossal. His sculptures stretched outward in scale and concept, increasingly engaging with architecture and the surrounding landscape.

Antony Gormley's bulbous sculptures of "Liminal Field" (2015), presented as part of the artist's largest-ever solo exhibition staged in Korea at Museum SAN / Courtesy of Museum SAN

“I’ve always wanted to put the work into situations of real life — on the road, in the mountains, on the beach, in the city, always on the horizon,” he said. “We’ve drifted into this situation where the opportunity to engage with art has been controlled by the institution and the market. But this is not its normal place. The reflexivity offered by art should be part of daily life.”

Perhaps his most iconic piece to this day is “Angel of the North,” a 20-meter-tall steel figure with outstretched wings standing sentinel over a highway in Gateshead, England.

Antony Gormley's "RUN I" (2021) / Courtesy of the artist

The exhibition at Museum SAN brings together works across media, each animated by Gormley’s long-standing inquiry into the human body.

The bulbous, porous sculptures of “Liminal Field” trace the standing figures’ outline using rings of steel. “RUN” is a stark drawing rendered in the artist’s own blood. And “Orbit Field II” is a sprawling aluminum entanglement that invites visitors to weave through its maze-like form and become, quite literally, a physical part of the work.

What it means to make sculpture in an immaterial age

In a world growing ever more digital, the tactile weight of sculpture is being eclipsed by the shimmer of the virtual. When asked about this shift, Gormley responded with a bold and unexpected question.

“Why is it that Michelangelo is more important than Leonardo da Vinci? It’s because sculpture works on the world. It’s not trying to make a picture of the world. It asks the world to accommodate it. It goes out and probes the world, tests it, changes it.”

For him, sculpture is one of the last remaining invitations to return to palpable, physical experience — to the immediacy of touch and breath. In an age when our devices blur the boundaries of reality, sculpture instead attempts to reawaken bodily awareness. It demands to be met, not mediated.

“We have to be careful to retain our animal natures,” he noted. “Wet brains will not be replaced by dry ones.”

Antony Gormley's "Orbit Field II" (2024) / Courtesy of Museum SAN

Amid political and cultural disintegration, where nationalism surges and the primitive impulse to resolve conflict through war resurfaces, he sees art as “a final ground on which we have to recover our humanity.”

“This sounds very desperate. I’m not desperate,” he added wistfully. “But I am aware how fragile the collective human future is.”

As we grow ever more obsessed with the weightless allure of the virtual, Gormley’s defense reminds us of what still matters: to have a body, to belong to this earth, to feel the ground beneath our feet.

“Drawing on Space” runs through Nov. 30 at Museum SAN.