By
Honorary Reporter Vincent L. Apa III from
the U.S.Photos =
Vincent L. Apa III This article highlights my impressions of Korean art through a small yet diverse group of artists I have encountered over the years. Art is a medium that can change the way one looks at something, analyze a situation or simply think, and that perspective and how the human senses are used are fundamental. I found it interesting to see different techniques used for many years in Eastern culture that have yet to gain much notoriety in the West. Oftentimes the process of creating art, not just the end product, is what's important for the artist and the viewer.
I recently attended the opening reception of "One Breath – Infinite Vision" at Gallery Korea of the Korean Cultural Center of New York. This special exhibition showcased contemporary Korean ink art and a few other media like clay, iron dust and electronics, including works by many female artists. Most of the two hours I spent at the gallery were used looking at the works multiple times alone and getting insight from the guest curator Kim Yu-yeon, as well as receiving an introduction to the works of Choi Ildan. The mesmerizing works were like nothing I'd seen before.
Ink art, referred to as ink brush or ink wash painting, is a technique that dates back to possibly the Tang dynasty in China during the seventh century A.D. and the Joseon Dynasty in Korea (14th century). Korean ink art is said to be noted for a poignancy of expression that derives as much from its portrayal of the physical world as it does from inner space, a quality that is temporal, abstract and spiritual. I was talking with another woman in front of Yooah Park's sculpture of incompletely combusted clay titled "King’s Road"; we discussed what we saw in each of the numerous small squares that looked like a woman in different positions. Next I was fixated on Kim Jong-Ku's piece made with iron dust, PV glue and canvas, and the subtlety in the strokes, layers and textures was extraordinary.
Kim Jong-Ku's piece made with iron dust, PV glue and canvas, and the subtlety in the strokes, layers and textures was extraordinary.
I especially enjoyed Choi's works "Nine Dragon Falls on Diamond Mountain" and "Whirlwind," which was created by drawing with a rooster's feather. Unlike a traditional ink brush, a feather has no point but rather creates multiple incidental lines regardless of the artist's intent. "Whirlwind" expresses the artist's past and present life and the uncertainty of the future. The drawing suggests figures and landscapes -- a macrocosm containing trees, rocks, animals and birds -- a cycle of life encompassing both the experience of joy and loss and birth and death. Jang Hyun-joo's piece "Tree Shade" tangled me in a web because she used charcoal sticks and ink, and then she ground oyster shells into a paste to create a washing technique through repetitive and meditative movements. Her piece expresses the relationship between nature and humans in which landscapes are transformative principles and mountains become trees whose roots become roads.
Kim Hak-su and I take a picture together at his apartment.
A famous traditional folk artist, Kim Hak-su, was a friend of my in-laws for many years in Seoul, and like the latter, he fled Pyeongyang at the onset of the Korean War. Kim painted 10 hours a day until his death at age 90. His father ran a brush shop and made brushes, but had trouble paying for all the paper his son used because he drew so much every day. During the Korean War, Kim sent his wife and children to stay with his wife's parents for safety purposes. After United Nations troops retreated, he fled to the South alone. For the rest of his life, he lived alone in Seoul, missing his family in the North. His daughter, however, is known to have made her way to South Korea much later in life.
Kim Hak-su shows me a scroll of life 400 meters long along the Hangang River in the early 1900s
I remember in 2004 spending an hour with Kim at his apartment. The black-and-white photo of his wife and children from North Korea mounted on the wall was the first thing I saw after entering his home, and it's something I'll never forget. Moments like this have taught me about empathy. He showed me his studio and unrolled a 400-meter-long scroll of life along the Hangang River in the early 1900s. It was amazing to see the detail he remembered, drew and then painted to depict that time period. He apparently did something similar for folklife along the Daedonggang River in Pyeongyang. Kim was a kind soul and took care of war orphans while he was a war refugee in Busan. There, he helped establish Zion Church and a tent church in Choryang-dong. During that time, he suffered from severe poverty as a refugee but worked at Daehan Pottery Company in Yeongdo. He painted on plates, and with the money he earned, he fed, bought clothes and prepared a place to sleep for war orphans. Dozens of pastors and theology professors grew up with Kim's help; he was like a father to them. When asked about his work "Three Joys," and specifically what were his three joys in life, he told others, "That I can paint, that I always have good people around me and that through my Christian faith, I live in God's grace and love."
My wife and her three siblings received as a wedding gift a painting from Kim with many symbols for good health and longevity. We brought the work back many years ago to our home in New York, and it is a nice reminder of this gentle soul and art documentarian.
Kim Hak-su draws an ink painting at his studio.
Finally, I conclude this piece with a brief interview with modern Korean artist Kim Hee-sook, a professor and chair of fine arts at Haverford College, where she has taught since 2002. I first saw her collection of colorful and abstract paintings (mainly acrylic and oil on mulberry paper) in 2007 at a gallery in Brooklyn. I have since continued to follow her work and reached out to her for a brief email interview.
Artist Hee Sook Kim says she has taken on the subject of historical Korean landscape paintings, an area typically made only by men.
Her artist statement, Paradise Between, 2016, notes the following:In my most recent work, I've taken the subject, both in form and imagery, of Korean historical landscape painting, (specifically the "Longevity Paintings" or Sipjangsaeng-do in Korean), which were typically made only by men for the Korean upper class known as yangban. Printing patterns (using Western oil colors) on top of the landscape traditionally used in Asian paintings (using water-based colors) transforms the masculine initial layer, now seen through a feminine veil. The painting's surface, covered with a glass bead work using shimmering rhinestones, speaks against the power of men in Korean cultural history that is still prevalent in contemporary Korean society. The work is a construct/destruct/re-construct.
In all my works, I use my personal experiences as a woman who immigrated to the U.S. 27 years ago after living in Korea until I was 28. This almost equal length of experiences in two completely different countries makes possible a hybridity that presents both cultures through the eyes of my own particular feminist perspective: raised in fear as a woman but now living in complete confidence as a woman.
When I started my career as an artist, I used the dream of a butterfly found in the writings of Chuang Tzu, the Taoist philosopher, as a symbol of female identity and being a woman in the world. This later also became a minority issue not just about being a woman, but also being an Asian immigrant in the U.S. I escaped from the male-dominated Korean society only to find that my new home had its own complicated versions of racism, sexism and classism. My longevity paintings, as with most of my recent works, represent both places with its many problems and my own place in between. So then where is paradise?...
In her works, she uses her personal experiences as a Korean woman who immigrated to the U.S.
Q&A with award-winning artist and professor Hee Sook Kim
Hee Sook Kim is an award-winning printmaker, painter and video artist who is a professor at Haverford College in Pennsylvania. Her works are in many collections in the U.S., Korea, Europe, Taiwan and Japan. She has said she gets her inspiration from nature, including medicinal plants and gardens, and Asian and Western culture, in addition to her experiences living in both Korea and the U.S. Q: You left Korea about the same time as my wife. From what I gather, even in the late 1980s and early 1990s, many women were expected to get married young and start a family. My wife left Seoul to get her doctorate in environmental engineering for various reasons, saying wanting the education was her primary motive. She was the only woman in her class while studying for her master's. Was it similar for you even in art? What made you want to leave Korea?
Kim: When I got my master's in fine arts at Seoul National University in 1983, there were not many women as well. Becoming a professor at a college (in Korea) as a woman was almost impossible, especially at my alma mater.
Q: I've stayed at Buddhist temples where certain motions or gestures help your mind focus, reflect or simply meditate such as sweeping sand or stones, but not a deliberate action to clean the ground. Do you apply such techniques to your paintings or prints or is every brushstroke final and with intent?
Kim: I start a new painting with a sketch, but once I start making marks and brushstrokes, I go with the flow. During that time, spirituality takes over.
Q: How many hours a day and days per week do you produce art on average? Do you designate a number of hours per day or are you more whimsical?
Kim: I don't have set hours every day for my work. I simply come to my studio every day like a ritual.
Q: Did you have a mentor or teacher who guided you?
Kim: My mentor is the famous Korean artist Oh Sufan.
Q: Do you often paint with acrylic and oil at the same time? Is that typical? What goes on canvas first or does it not matter?
Kim: I use acrylics most of the time because of the water-based quality and natural flow like traditional Korean painting. When I print patterns on top, I use oil-based inks. Usually you want to use acrylics before oils because of differences in drying time.
Q: Is there any quality you like or dislike about Hanji (traditional Korean paper made from the inner bark of the paper mulberry tree)?
Kim: I love to use Hanji due to its durability and surface that makes clean marks rather than spread.
chaey0726@korea.kr*This article is written by a Korea.net Honorary Reporter. Our group of Honorary Reporters are from all around the world, and they share with Korea.net their love and passion for all things Korean.