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Q1. Hello, I have long enjoyed your work, which constantly finds subject matter in familiar, everyday landscapes. Your solo exhibition <Fresh and Pointed Eggplant> (2024) marks your return to gallerychosun after seven years since <Very Green> in 2017. I’m sure this means a lot to you. While both exhibitions share a common thread; a deep observation of the things that surround you, they differ in content. 

As the title suggests, your solo exhibition <Very Green> (2017), largely depicted the rice paddies, fields, and the mountains seen near your studio. The spectrum of green presented in the paintings, similar yet distinct, depicting the diverse densities and layers of nature. In that sense, the work could be described as a macroscopic view of nature. 

In contrast, your new exhibition shifts towards a microscopic perspective, focusing on more intimate, close-up subjects. Your works – flowers arranged in vases, portraits of friends suggest a return from distant nature to the immediacy of what’s nearby. I’m curious, what prompted this shift? Was there a particular reason behind it?

Q1. Hello, this is your first exhibition in Korea in five years since your solo exhibition at gallerychosun in 2019. It must feel particularly meaningful to you. A lot has happened during that time. The pandemic limited international travels, possibly postponing your return to Korea from the UK. It seems though your work has also undergone significant changes over these five years. While your overarching exploration of the relationships between space, body, and image remain consistent, your solo exhibition in 2019 leaned more towards space, whereas your exhibition in 2024 seems to move closer to body and image. If the previous exhibition centered around architectural space, this one focuses on wallpaper created using traces of bodily movement and on represented images of women. Since Korean viewers will encounter your new work without having seen the developments in between, we’d like to ask about the changes your work has undergone during that time. 

It’s hard to answer briefly. Comparing just these two exhibitions over the five-year span may make the changes seem dramatic, but in reality, some parts evolved gradually, while others shifted discontinuously and were repeated when creating new work. The 2019 exhibition, in fact, was more of a conclusion than a starting point, a moment where I reflected on the architectural projects I had been working on and began to feel a need for new challenges. As you pointed out, the biggest shift in the current exhibition is moving beyond the category rooted in architecture. My earlier sculptural works, based on architectural assemblage, approached architecture from a representational perspective; reconfiguring familiar architectural images to explore emotional states and subjective flows within seemingly natural relationships among environment, people, and architecture. Since transformation of space was central, most of these works were large-scale immersive installations based on design plans. This approach came with constraints. Time and resources, which were frustrating for someone like me who prefers to move ideas forward quickly. That led me to start working with small-scale models which allowed for more immediate expression of broad ideas in condensed form. It was satisfying in that sense, but they were sometimes misinterpreted as sealed, abstract sculptures detached from their original spatial context. As a result, I came to prefer working directly in actual spaces again. I shifted my focus to contextualising the architectural conditions of given environments, valuing the subjective processes of reflection and response over simply producing something new. Actions and gestures (often bodily) that take place within space have increasingly become central themes in my work. 

(Response towards what it means to apply printmaking as a medium to represent wallpaper, and how the painting genre, bodily movement, and the installation of space are connected in the work)

To reveal accidental moments such as bodily movement, I needed to explore new forms, media, and processes. The medium of printmaking, which I studied during my masters degree, lies somewhere in between photography and painting, and hence embodies both painterly qualities like trace, expression, and texture, as well as technical and methodical aspects through repetitive printing. The abstract image patterns, derived from the movements of my body are decorative, playful, spontaneous, and also vividly painterly. I chose to use wallpaper as a way to spatialise these gestural images. In exploring different types and qualities of gesture, I drew inspiration from choreographers like Pina Bausch and Yvonne Rainer. Their performances and choreographies taught me how the spatial and temporal dimensions of bodily movement are deeply connected to social experience, however, rather than aligning with the genre of performance, I deliberately avoided directly “showing” the body. Through fragmentation and isolation, I wanted to critique the opaque, dissonant ways bodies are represented and understood in contemporary society, and instead explore the body’s role within broader systems of cause and effect. Whereas I previously used architectural history and space as reference points of bodily relationships, I’ve now shifted to focusing more directly on bodily expression and consumption through the physical traces of my own body. Alongside this, the ongoing series of gestures and movements, captured as bodily traces, are juxtaposed with representations of the body found in mass media and art history, forming new thematic connections.

Q2. Unlike the visually cohesive and orderly impression of the exhibition, I found its layered and entangled meanings particularly compelling. The “wallpaper” covering the gallery walls carry gestural traces while also being a silkscreen-printed “image”, yet none of them are identical. The torn magazine image of women show striking contrasts; those not looking at the camera sometimes resemble lifeless bodies, while those making direct eye contact project a gaze that can feel aggressive or defensive. Some figures appear passive in posture, while others seem calm or leisurely. Beyond the evocation of a range of association through juxtaposition of different images, the ambiguity and multiplicity of meanings in the title (especially when read in English or French), the physicality of the torn and crumpled magazine paper, the reference to art history, the “masculine” art informel and abstract expressionism, abject art (particularly the brown tones stimulating scatological themes), and feminist art – all come to mind. 

Through this complex network of layering meanings, what is the ultimate story or message you hoped to convey in the exhibition? Of course, it seems ideal to leave space for the audience to engage with the work in their own ways and take away their own interpretations. Still, I wanted to ask this question in case there’s something you specifically wanted to express. 

There is a contradictory dynamic at play in contemporary art. On one hand, the viewer’s independent interpretation is increasingly emphasised, but on the other, dominant discourses produced within the art world continue to shape and even govern how contemporary art is understood. This tension is something I’m very aware of. Creating a new framework for experience is never easy. It’s easy to become cynical, but as an artist, I still try to contribute something productive within the art space. In that sense, leaving room for multiple questions and directions of interpretations on the viewer’s own approach is very important to me. The “network” of multiple layers you mentioned reflects my own stance: that the artist’s intentions or conclusions are not inherently more valuable or insightful than others’ perspectives. I see the viewer as an equal participant in the formation of meaning, and I hope they feel free to construct their own narratives – this is very much part of the work’s intended function. In a sense, I try to create a “space” within the work that can be inhabited conceptually, visually, physically, and emotionally. I’m interested in the other “voices” that speak through the work, and acknowledge that the work is open-ended and not solely mine. Though of course, the work couldn’t exist without me :)

Q3. Today, social media is undoubtedly the most active site for the production and circulation of images. Therefore, I believe it’s impossible to critically examine how images function in contemporary culture without addressing the space of social media. When viewed through the lens of social media, the images of women torn from magazines in the exhibition can appear as if they’re caught in a kind of self-absorbed reverie. Perhaps another issue tied to social media. With that in mind, how do your artistic concerns, particularly the interrelationship between space, body, and image, connect with this recent shift in how images are produced? Or, are there other thoughts you might have on this subject?

I use social media myself, and consume online culture, so I can’t say that these images are unrelated to me. The circulation of digital images and videos (as data) through the “virtual” channels and platforms of the internet has created countless mutations that disrupt familiar modes of image production and distribution. 

Social media has enabled anyone with a smartphone to broadcast and exert influence. AI-powered image manipulation now gives individuals a level of control over media that was once reserved for trained experts.  At the same time, the line between industrially produced culture and user-generated content is becoming increasingly blurred. 

Crucially, social media has transformed the status of images and our relationships to them. Images have become more fluid, mutable, and unstable. These shifting images, in turn, reshape how we relate to the body and to space, and they will continue to generate new visual forms in response to the economic logic of desire. What’s important here, and central to my practice, is the idea that image, body, and space all exist across multiple dimensions, but the way they come together directly influences our psychological experience and determines where the viewer or consumer finds themselves positioned within it.

Of course, to engage seriously with social media, we also have to consider not just what happens “virtually”, but how interfaces and technologies shape a specific kind of user experience. We also need to acknowledge issues of access and opportunity - around 35% of the global population still has no internet access, and less than 40% of those online actively use social media. 

Q1. Hello. In your recent exhibition <Lympha Lympha!> at gallerychosun, the large scale painting installation that filled the basement space left a particularly strong impression. What makes this work stand out, I believe, are two things: first, compared to your previous exhibitions, there is a clear intent to expand painting into a spatial experience; second, unlike earlier works where your intent and compositional control were more visible on the surface, here the emphasis seems to shift toward the material interaction itself, where substances react and form surfaces somewhat independently of the artit’s direct intervention. For instance, in works like <The Clarity Reached after Resistance>, or <중심으로부터>, one can perceive your intention in the arrangement of fabric and canvas - how you composed and placed each element. But in the latest painting installation, that sense of deliberate authorship feels more withdrawn. 

Your artist note mentions: “If the early works were about confronting and expressing the relationship between myself and the environment alone, my interest has gradually shifted toward recognising and encountering the relationships among other bodies, whether they are human or non-human”. This seems to come across clearly in the current exhibition. Could you elaborate a bit more on this shift?

I’ve long approached the basic structure of painting as surface and support, and developed various painting experiments around this core. The main work in the gallery’s basement, <A Body Unfolded in Five Million Years>, expands this idea by using the gallery’s architectural structure itself as a support, allowing the surface of the painting to take shape and unfold into a three-dimensional installation. 

This type of installation, which has evolved alongside my framed works, first began in 2018 with <Colors you can eat and sweat >. Since then, I’ve become increasingly interested in creating haptic experiences where sight and touch converge. I’ve presented both small and large-scale installations in various venues, and for this solo exhibition , I wanted to scale up and expand the entire space into a “field of painting”. 

I designed the layout like a dense maze, so that viewers would walk through the work and experience with their senses. I built a model of the exhibition for the first time and spent a long time planning and developing the layout. The fact that I couldn’t drill into the gallery’s basement ceiling presented a challenge, which led me to devise a new structure using stainless steel handles mounted to the walls. 

In the case of <Metamorphosis>, I imagined an immersive experience in which the viewer would be fully enveloped within the painting’s surface, almost “melting” into it, which led to its tent-like form. 

The flexible fabric (surface) that forms the foundation of my installation work is primarily coloured using various water-based materials - acrylic, ink, natural and synthetic dyes. For me, the act of dyeing is a way to handle material directly, without the intermediary of a brush or other tools, moving away from the intellect and focusing on bodily sensation and movement. 

Through the movement of water, colour seeps into the fabric, creating patterns and traces that emerge organically. What’s especially important is the act of letting go. Of giving over to time and allowing the material to unfold on its own. The marks that arise from the interactions of fabric, dye, and water are too intricate to be mere accidents; at times, they feel almost primordial, evoking the mysterious self-organising processes of life and nature. The main materials I use, mulberry leaf (natural), acrylic (synthetic), and bleach (toxic), each carry specific connotations. They invoke common substances that enter the body through the skin, breath or digestion in everyday life. In the way these materials interact, transform, and are expelled, the boundary between the body and the outside world dissolves. 

By working through these processes, I hope to awaken a sensory awareness of our entanglement with the material world. I want the finished surface of the work to feel almost like an extension of one’s own skin. When standing in front of these large, soft pieces, I believe the viewer can momentarily transcend the physical boundaries of their own body; its scale, volume, and temporality - and expand their contact with space. 

Ultimately, my intention is for the viewer to become more alert to the material and environmental presence in front of them, to feel the interconnectedness of all things, and to experience an expanded sense of self within a shared field. 

Q2. Throughout history, artists have defined paintings in different ways. One of the most well known examples is Clement Greenberg’s notion of “Flatness”. Today, however, rather than beginning with an internal definition of painting, many contemporary practices seem to start by expanding beyond the surface, by reaching outward and establishing relationships. The word “network” feels especially relevant, as it seems to capture much of what contemporary art is doing. 

That said, no painting can truly incorporate everything. And it’s precisely at this limit that an artist’s unique language, worldview, and narrative begin to emerge. Depending on what one chooses to relate to, and in which direction that practice extends, the stories each artist tells will necessarily differ. 

In your case, it seems you’ve been exploring “environment” as something sensed haptically, through the skin and body, much like weather or seasons. How has your understanding of the environment evolved or expanded through your practice?

When I first began the <Weather Painting>, my own sensitive body, struggles with atopy, the lack of heating and cooling in my studio, and the intense experience of Korea’s summers and winters were crucial starting points. Having practiced yoga and meditation for a long time, I had become accustomed to focusing on bodily sensations to stay present, so this direction naturally revealed itself in my work. Canvases and fabrics came to feel like skin and surfaces that record the body’s sensory encounter with the environment.

Over several seasons, as I developed series like <Sun Drawing>, <Water and Steel>, and <Hardboiled Tea>, I gradually moved away from traditional canvas painting frames, and freely experimented with various materials and methods within the structure of “surface and support”.  Through four residency experiences, I actively embraced changing working environments and treated each as a new starting point. 

At first, I strongly felt that painting in contemporary art should evolve with life rather than remain trapped within an idealised frame. When I moved into Geumcheon Art Factory in 2019, I was able to acquire discarded fabrics from a nearby textile factory. This came at a time when my work on weather and seasons was well developed and ready for a shift, and it led to a material expansion and the development of spatial installations using dyed fabric. 

Working with textiles related to clothing made me realise that corporality, the bodies of others beyond myself, and the experience of the body in space are central to my work, and directions I have to further explore. I believe my practice has grown out of a deep affection for the long-standing medium of painting and the environments and experiences I have encountered in life’s journey. I also look forward to the changes that unexpected encounters may bring in the future. 

Q2-1. It seems like recently you’ve taken a step further by producing “environment” in <Lympha Lympha!>. Could you share what kind of “environment” you aimed to create through this exhibition?

I think some of this is touched on in my first answer, but since this was a large-scale installation, there were many realisations that came from seeing how people actually interacted with the work in the gallery. I especially remember a comment from one artist describing it as “a painting or architecture that is grand yet unpretentious, with rich colours and surfaces”.

I wanted to create an environment where, immersed in soft, transparent traces of water that seem to touch the skin, viewers could instantly awaken their bodily senses and encounter the present moment. The small meditation workshops called Melting held twice inside <Poem, Poison, and Metamorphosis> were also invaluable experiences. Together, we stayed present, walked silently through the space of <A Body Unfolded in Five Million Years>, and shared intimate experiences connecting body, space, painting, and material. It was a special time of deep connection with people within the environment that the work created.