Kim Hyung-joo's Plain Painting: Even a Trivial Creature Has Life
By Kim Hyun-joo (Art Historian)
Since her first solo exhibition at Gallery Grimson in 2019, Kim Hyung-joo has consistently presented new works through five solo exhibitions until 2024. These exhibitions, titled playfully as "Light Landscape" (2019), "Uninvited Guest" (2021), "It is what it is" (2022), "Marshmallow on the Ground" (2023), and "Unwavering Comfort" (2024), consistently address the issue of the natural environment. In a time when the global environmental crisis and discussions on the Anthropocene are rapidly advancing through the pandemic era, her work is significant for sharing the contemporary issues faced by society. She discovers the unbalanced relationship between humans and nature in events witnessed in her surrounding natural environment or in everyday actions thoughtlessly performed by humans. She then poses the weighty question of whether coexistence between humans and nature is possible. Her paintings feel like familiar stories told in a calm voice, making them accessible and drawing viewers toward serious questions through emotional stimulation.
Kim Hyung-joo was born in Incheon, Korea's second-largest port city, and has lived in urban areas ever since. Her initial interest in the nature she indifferently passed by while traveling between Incheon and Seoul began when she majored in Oriental painting at university. Having been more interested in spatial expression than in figures or objects, she started viewing nature as a subject for painting after learning about the tradition of landscape painting. Until the early 2010s, she painted idealized landscapes, shaping natural forms like vast rivers, mountains, and waterfalls with soft pastel tones and meticulous brushstrokes, reflecting the sensibility of a new generation. As she herself recalls, she considered nature an ideal and conceptual space, devoid of realistic locality, during what she called her "conceptual landscape" period. The turning point where she began to perceive nature as a real environment, unlike before, was when she moved to a studio near Paju in 2016.
Paju, located in the northern part of Gyeonggi-do, is known for maintaining a relatively nature-friendly environment due to its proximity to the DMZ. However, the natural environment the artist encountered as a resident there was far from the essence of nature, which is "something that occurs or exists on its own." The landscape, a chaotic tangle of numerous restaurants, accommodations, large warehouses nestled in mountains and hills, old houses of local residents, and country homes and rice fields of outsiders, was sheer disorder. The damage to the natural environment caused by indiscriminate rampant development seemed beyond imagination. After witnessing such realities, the artist shed her fantasy of pure nature and began to meticulously observe her surroundings. Upon looking around with this new awareness, she realized that many things she had taken for granted were not so obvious. She began to see how humans impact nature in their daily lives to pursue their own profit and convenience. Mountains that stood intact disappeared, fighting weeds and mosquitoes became a daily routine in summer, and the ungenerous world that wrapped straw bundles after autumn harvest, not even allowing a few grains for birds, was right nearby. Although she doesn't have the power to change the world, the artist wanted to share these regrettable stories through her paintings.
The "Light Landscape" series, presented in her first solo exhibition in 2019, was inspired by the story of an unnamed mountain near her that one day disappeared. In Korean, there are sayings like "ten years change rivers and mountains" and "where would a mountain go?" These are contrasting expressions meaning change and eternity of nature. In Korea, where the entire country suffers from development, perhaps the former is closer to reality. Even so, we imagine that mountains will always remain in their place, just as they are. But how absurd is it that a mountain visible before our eyes disappears as it's sold off for sand? The artist was once again shocked that the logic of capital could easily change even nature, which she thought was immovable like a mountain. And under the metaphorical title "Light Landscape," she depicted the overlapping rivers and mountains as if they were floating, conveying the crisis of the natural environment, which is destined to disappear at any moment.
Since 2021, the motif Kim Hyung-joo has focused on is weeds. Weeds generally refer to plants that are nameless or considered to have no utility in human life. Weeds grow exceptionally well regardless of location and have tenacious vitality, growing back even after being pulled out. Especially in summer gardens or fields, weeds are considered a serious nuisance that spoils the view or deprives food crops of nutrients. A common everyday solution is herbicide. Weeds sprayed with herbicide wilt yellow and stop growing, becoming zombie-like plants. The "Herbicide" series (2021), the "Yellow Plant" series (2022), which depict yellow, lifeless plants as if seen up close, and the yellow landscapes in the exhibition "Unwavering Comfort," contrast with the appearance of weeds in the "Suspension" and "List" series (2021) that grew freely on lawns. As a passive response to the violent acts inflicted on plants by humans, she captured the boundaries inside and outside spaces where weeds were allowed to grow freely in the "Suspension" and "List" series. However, whether alive or dead, the weeds she painted, though only differing in color (yellow and green), are rendered with delicate touches, evoking a lyrical feeling.
"It is what it is" (2022) addresses the diverse uses of black plastic. The works in this exhibition feature black ink painted on the background that aligns with the strip forms of black plastic, creating a strong visual effect. This effect is particularly prominent in "My Land," which rhythmically depicts furrows at regular intervals. The artist, who only knew black bags for carrying groceries, was shocked to see fields covered with black plastic to suppress weeds that hinder crop growth during cultivation. She was even more shocked to see black plastic being used to collect the carcasses of dead roe deer that had come down from the mountains (Roe Deer, 2022). The artist, well aware that black plastic contaminates the natural environment, ironically asks if its overuse is truly "unavoidable."
The "Marshmallow" series from 2023 was inspired by the surrounding rice field landscapes with baled silage after the autumn harvest. Baled silage refers to bundles of rice straw wrapped in white plastic for use as animal feed, and due to their shape and color, they are sometimes called "marshmallows on the field." This series originated from the thematic awareness of the destruction of the ecosystem's virtuous cycle system that occurs during the pursuit of profit. However, there is a tendency for the content to be overshadowed by the form, as the series focuses on the diverse formal compositions of the white square-shaped baled silage seen from above.
Kim Hyung-joo paints in a unique way that combines Eastern and Western painting methods. First, she adheres hanji (Korean paper) to the canvas and paints the background with ink. While Oriental painting generally focuses on lines to create forms, she meticulously paints shapes with acrylic paint over the ink. For example, the forms of trees and rising smoke in "Citizen's Forest 1" (2024) were naturally created by the carefully and repeatedly painted colors and the black outlines formed where the background ink color shows through the unpainted areas. The background ink color subtly permeates through the acrylic layers, creating a uniform and cohesive canvas. In particular, the works in "Unwavering Comfort" use a frontal composition and are painted with even more meticulous detail than previous works. Perhaps this is why the forms appear to bulge like embossing, giving a distinct texture and strong decorative quality. She tends to create her paintings without any gaps, and it seems she needs to free herself a bit from this obsessive attitude.
Regarding the content of her work, Kim Hyung-joo has thus far reflected on and contemplated the problems of the natural environment from a human perspective. However, is it impossible to imagine viewing the human-nature relationship from the position of other living beings, rather than humans? I would propose an eccentric shift in perspective: what if we could exercise plant-like imagination as a weed, and approach the issue of the natural environment from a completely different angle?
Kim Hyung-joo is a diligent artist who works quietly. This does not mean she lacks talent and only relies on effort. For an artist to continue, internal and external factors such as passion, persistence, consistent training, self-reflection, and recognition from the art world must be appropriately balanced with talent. Having just crossed the threshold of a young artist, she has proven her qualities as an artist by holding several solo exhibitions, which are rites of passage in the art world. To survive as a full-time artist, one must become less sensitive to the pain of creation and financial insecurity, and it seems she has now developed sufficient resilience to endure such situations. Kim Hyung-joo does not rush to keep up with trends or seek recognition; she works calmly and diligently at her own pace. In the world of an artist, which is like a long-distance marathon, this attitude can be considered her greatest strength. Having observed her closely for the past decade or so, I look positively upon artist Kim Hyung-joo's future.