Sungkyun Times | A Pretty Face Reads Out a Vivacious Self-Portrait

[Kim Hyun Jung, the Coy Korean Painter]

Neatly braided hair with a daenggi ribbon, an elegantly dressed hanbok. Yet the heroine in the painting wears a skirt sheer enough to see through and hurriedly slurps down ramen. And as she watches coffee spill across her luxury handbag, her expression suddenly turns to dismay — "Oh no!" When this scene, captured on canvas as "Acha II," was exhibited, a certain Korean painter drew public attention. She went on to exhibit more distinctive works, and her solo exhibition "Naesoong Olympics," held this past June, also wrapped up to great success. "An artist who breathes fresh air into staid, old-fashioned Korean painting" — this is how people describe Kim Hyun Jung, the leading figure driving the popularization of Korean painting, known as "the idol of Korean painting." We met with her to hear about her artistic world and her thoughts on the direction of Korean painting.

You had such a passion for art that you went to an arts high school. What led you specifically to Korean painting?

When I moved up to second year at Sunhwa Arts High School, I stood at a crossroads over choosing a major. Around that time, I read "Special Lectures on the Beauty of Korea" by the late archaeologist Oh Ju-seok. I was deeply moved encountering the level of mastery and charm of Korean painting introduced in the book. I realized that ink-wash painting, the most representative genre of Korean painting, could actually create a sense of transparency through layered brushwork. I also came to understand that the sincerity and wit found in our ancestors' genre paintings were part of Korean painting's appeal. Captivated by that charm, I chose Oriental painting as my major.

Despite your young age, you've exhibited an impressive number of works, showing quite an active practice. Which piece of work stands out most in your memory?

Since every piece of work is precious to me, it's hard to pick just one that stands out. But I think the work that has left the deepest impression on me as a Korean painter has been making the materials myself. Tasks like making dyes, making paste, and producing and dyeing hanji were so grueling that they've stayed vividly in my memory. Also, while searching for subject matter to include in my work, meeting experts in various fields — traditional Korean music performers, ceramic artisans, knot-tying artisans, hanbok artisans — left a strong impression on me.

What meaning does the "naesoong" theme commonly found in your work carry?

In the narrow sense, "naesoong" refers to sly behavior by women meant to impress men. But in the broader sense, "naesoong" means "any attitude of presenting an outward appearance different from one's true inner feelings, in order to satisfy others' gaze or conventional judgment." The "naesoong" in my work also carries this broader meaning. I wanted to reveal, through my work, the gap between outside and inside that anyone — regardless of gender — can carry.

What led you to start painting with "naesoong" as your subject?

The "Naesoong" story can be described as a confessional self-portrait aspiring toward a state of freedom, breaking away from others' gaze and conventional judgment. From my teenage years, I was a student extremely sensitive to others' gaze. Rather than living the life I wanted, I was someone who chased only the image reflected in other people's eyes. That gaze became the standard by which I measured my life, and its weight was overwhelming. I was also deeply hurt by seeing that same trait in others. I wanted to reclaim the self that had grown faint from chasing only others' gaze, and find a center of gravity that wouldn't be shaken by other people. So I began the "naesoong" project as a period of self-questioning — asking myself what kind of person I really am.

What's especially distinctive is that you use yourself as the model for your works. What was your intention behind that?

I wanted to paint realistic figure paintings, so I began working with myself, the subject closest at hand, as my model. At the time, I simply chose myself as the model for the figures, projecting my own personality onto them. But one day, I realized that the figure in my paintings — someone who couldn't confidently reveal herself and instead struck an awkward, ambiguous posture out of self-consciousness toward others' gaze — closely resembled myself. That's when I decided to fully commit to painting confessional self-portraits. Through this, I've been able to look at myself more objectively, and think about the issue of gaze and convention with much greater ease.

At first, you paused your work as an artist because of criticism that your work was "frivolous." How did you overcome that perception and return to painting?

That's a hard question to answer. (Laughs) At my undergraduate thesis review, I presented a work called "Hwabyeong (Anger Syndrome)," based on the "naesoong" theme, but I received harsh criticism from the professors. As a result, I fell into such severe depression that I found myself at the edge between life and death. I paused my work as an artist and fell into deep reflection. After much soul-searching over the question, "Do I have any ability I could offer to others for the rest of my life?" I ultimately concluded that it was "the ability to paint." I overcame my depression through sheer determination to use that ability to give as much as I could to others. I think this experience is also what allowed the "Naesoong" story to develop even further.

You've taught children at Kkumkki Art School. What did you take away from that volunteer teaching experience?

That school provides art education to children from low-income backgrounds who have artistic talent but lack access to proper education. Those children were incredibly thirsty for art education, and often approached painting even more seriously than I did. Through them, I felt like I was learning all over again myself. Watching them study so earnestly reminded me of my own childhood self, who simply loved to draw more than anything. It felt like returning to my beginner's mind. Whenever things get hard, thinking of those children gives me renewed strength.

Unlike other artists, you explain the intent behind your work. Why is that?

The biggest reason is my desire to communicate with the public. Since my work isn't difficult, and anyone can easily understand it just from the title and the image, I tend to walk people through my intentions and thoughts. At first, I worried this might dismiss the public's own imagination and interpretation. But instead, people have enjoyed it, and some have even offered interpretations better than my own. I think that's when good interaction happens. My ultimate goal is to share this sense of being moved with as many people as possible, and to help build a culture where people can enjoy that together.

There's still a widespread perception that Korean painting is as somber as the "Four Gentlemen" (plum, orchid, chrysanthemum, bamboo) motif. What are your thoughts on this?

Traditionally, Oriental painting developed mainly around landscape painting and the Four Gentlemen, centered on *munin-hwa (literati painting) and *gosa-inmul-hwa (paintings of historically significant figures). Because of this, even today, people likely think first of landscape painting or the Four Gentlemen when they hear "Oriental painting." But recently, so many diverse attempts have been made that the boundary between Oriental and Western painting has become blurred. A great many artists are now painting Korean paintings with their own distinctive character. In my own work, I mainly use a collage technique — attaching hanji to express the rustling texture of hanbok — along with a semi-transparent nude technique, using layers of diluted ink to vividly reveal "naesoong."

What would you like to say to students who dream of becoming artists, as well as to college students in general?

First, to art school students, I'd like to say: hold onto persistence. In pursuing artistic work, you'll hear a lot of criticism and get hurt often. But to capture the attention of those who view your work, you need an attitude that refuses to give up. Above all, if you genuinely enjoy painting, confidence in your work will naturally follow, and the results will surely be different. To other college students as well, I'd like to say: find something you can genuinely enjoy. Human desire is endless — it's human nature that once you get into Seoul National University, you start wanting to go to Harvard graduate school. That's why it's important to find your own center. If you get swept up too much in other people's gaze, that desire will drag you along indefinitely.

You've now completed your master's coursework. What are your plans going forward?

Honestly, I don't know. I'm keeping the possibility for change in my future work completely open. Beyond my usual flat-surface work, I've also had a strong interest in installation art. New attempts at three-dimensional work — things flat painting can't show — produce all kinds of unexpected results, which I find fascinating. If I could turn "naesoong" into something people could actually see and touch, I think it could be received even more intuitively than encountering it through painting alone. But right now, I'm so happy continuing to exhibit that I'd like to keep this way of life for the time being. I plan to keep studying hard while continuing to hold exhibitions steadily.

Written by Son Min-ho, Reporter juvenile0223@skkuw.com

Photo by Kim Eun-sol, Reporter eunsol_kim@

◈Munin-hwa (Literati Painting): Paintings made as a leisure pursuit by members of the scholar-official class, rather than professional painters.

◈Gosa-inmul-hwa: Figure paintings depicting historical figures noted for their remarkable achievements.

[Photo captions]

1. Acha II (我差, Feign: Oops) (2013).

2. From Naesoong Olympics — Living for Style: Pure-Hearted Woman (Swag or Die: Naive Lady) (2014).

3. From Naesoong Olympics — Naesoong: Well Done Today, Too (Feign: Keep It Up!) (2014).

Written by — Son Min-ho