I ask Richmond artist Bohyun Yoon about “Family” (2018), a bronze sculpture of his I saw earlier this year in a show at the Visual Arts Center of Richmond. It’s a kinetic sculpture and it wasn’t working when I visited. Now, I’m seeing it in his living room. He turns it on and three honey-colored vessels centered on a white plinth begin to turn slowly.

“This one is my daughter’s profile,” Yoon says, pointing to the smaller of the three. “And this one is my wife, and this one is my profile. We’re doing a kissing gesture. Our lips are at the same level.”

The vessels turn toward each other and then away, again and again. The bronze is so shiny that it’s nearly impossible to tell they’re rotating at all, except for the thin strand of hair wrapped around them. It’s actually several hairs tied together, and what I’m watching are the knots moving along like a conveyor belt. “I collected hair from our restroom and then connected it as a band,” he says. “It’s running between the lips, like a pulley.”

Originally from South Korea, Yoon has been a professor in the Department of Craft and Material Studies at Virginia Commonwealth University since 2012. His work focuses on family bonds and human relationships in general, and how we express our connections to each other. You can check out his Instagram page here.

“When you’re with family, sometimes you don’t realize how fast your child’s growing, how I’m getting old, how my wife changes,” he says. “But we somehow reflect each other. That’s why I wanted to make it a mirror you don’t realize is moving.”

In a series of works titled “Glass Helmet” (2002-2004), Yoon fabricates blown glass fishbowls designed to be worn like helmets. Filled with water, the pieces become instruments or communicators when the helmet wearer rubs their sides. Yoon studied glass blowing at both Tama Art University in Tokyo and the Rhode Island School of Design, but he became interested in the way glass can conduct sound when he saw a wine glass player in the street. In one iteration of “Glass Helmet,” the helmets have spouts. The wearers come together to pour water into each other’s helmets, changing the water levels and thus the tone of the sounds they make.

The idea comes out of Yoon’s experience moving to the United States and being immersed in a new language. “English is such a difficult thing for me,” he says. “The helmets are a kind of prosthetic device, an extension of my head, something clear and not verbal.” They represent a kind of direct transmission of meaning without words, from one head to another.

For an artist who is fascinated by the intricacies of human connection, his choice of manufactured materials—glass, metal, electronics, motors, gears, video, mirrors—begs the question: Why not something more organic like earth, fiber, or clay?

“My mom is a ceramicist, and as a child I also loved making things with my hands. So, I was thinking I should go into ceramics because that’s what I’ve seen from my family,” he explains. “But she said, ‘I’m doing ceramics. It will be boring if we do all the same things.’”

Then what should he do, Yoon asked. She suggested glass.

“Glass is so exciting to make because it’s so difficult. At first, I was focused on making something nice, but later I was more interested in its transparency. What’s the beauty of this transparency?” he asks.

There is beauty in the structures he creates, and an incredible mastery of craft, but they also have a delightful playfulness and humor to them. Consider “Run Home” (2020), a video installation he created during the pandemic lockdown. He filmed himself hanging upside by his ankles and projected that image onto the window of a house across the street from his own—a kind of send up of Gabriel Orozco’s “Home Run” (1993), a still life of oranges in white cups placed in the widow of an apartment across the street from the Museum of Modern Art.

“Mirror Armor” (2021), another piece created during the pandemic, is an intricate, full-body suit made of mirrors that takes about two hours to put on, though he can only bear to wear it for an hour. “It’s very uncomfortable and quite heavy,” he says. Watching a video of him lumbering around in it, you can see the absurdity of our infatuation with our appearances, the silliness of vanity taken to the extreme.

“Using humor is kind of my nature. When I was child and people asked me, ‘What do you want to be in the future?’ My answer was comedian. I was so in love with comedians on TV and watching prank shows,” Yoon says.

The artist is just as passionate about teaching as he is about his art. His latest work is a collaboration with VCU music professor Ross Walter and VCU music students. They’re working on ways to make music visible with lasers that move in sync with the vibrations of the instruments. You can see some of these performances on his website.

“We’re not just making work for rich people; we’re not just making furniture,” Yoon tells me. “Art is how we affect other people. That’s the joy of art.”