KIM KEETAE KOREA, b. 1970

The artist carefully selects the medium for their work, as it plays a crucial role in how the piece is perceived. Sometimes, the medium can overshadow the original intent, leading to interpretations that stray from the artist's vision-or, worse, diminish the work's value entirely. Of course, misinterpretation isn't solely the fault of the medium; it can also stem from the content or other factors.
And yet… sometimes, these misinterpretations can enrich the work, adding layers of meaning and depth.

 

Painting, being entirely handmade, is a pure expression of the artist's imagination. Whether inspired by real events or a reinterpretation of the past, it is ultimately a product of the artist's inner world-a form of artistic fiction.
Photography, on the other hand, is different. A photograph is evidence. It proves that people or events existed. It doesn't judge, nor does it carry any inherent purpose. It simply testifies to the reality of a moment. The meaning drawn from it is left entirely to the viewer.

 

Hybridity, my work blends photography and painting. Like the phrase "based on a true story" in films, the photographs in my pieces serve as proof of a place's reality. The painted layers added on top depict events that might have happened there. In this way, the hybridity becomes a form of dramatization or adaptation.
And yet… sometimes, I create works that are entirely paintings, from start to finish.

 

Scenes, the events in my works, born from the fusion of painting and photography, exist in a space between reality and surrealism. Perhaps that's why I'm drawn to moments that hover between day and night. They don't feel entirely real, nor are they fully surreal. (To me, these moments are deeply surreal and otherworldly.) Maybe the phenomena in my works are things that could actually be happening. Who knows? After all, what we see is limited to the narrow spectrum of visible light…

 

The Sublime, our lives are like a fleeting flash of light in the vast expanse of time and space. They are so brief, so vanishingly short, that they disappear before we can even finish a sigh-a mere accident of existence. Paradoxically, it is in this accidental, momentary singularity that the value of life lies. The desperate preciousness of this fleeting moment becomes sublime when contrasted against the infinite. This sublime flash can burn fiercely, fade quietly, or linger for a while, taking on many forms. Yet, in the end, it is all just chance.

 

Punctum, as a child, I was captivated by a photograph in a magazine. It was a backlit image of a farmer carrying an A-frame, walking among trees beneath high clouds. That photograph pierced my young heart and left an indelible mark. Perhaps all of my work began in that moment.