In Minds Of: Kim Whanki

Valentina Buzzi: Arriving at the museum, an aspect that touched me immediately was its location: surrounded by nature, near Bugaksan(one of Seoul’s majestic mountains) central but far enough from the bustling metropolitan landscape to allow a meditative experience. I would love to start this conversation by asking you if this choice of location was directly linked to Kim Whanki’s fundamental relationship with nature, and if you could guide us in exploring this special bond. 

Paik Seung Lee: I believe there is no artist that deeply thought and felt nature as much as Kim Whanki. He was born on a small island by the blue sea and had lived in an area of Seoul surrounded by mountains. He even tried to be close to nature when he moved to New York, the most bustling city in the world. And this close relationship with nature was strongly reflected in his paintings as well, through the motifs of the mountains, the moon, water, and–of course–the strong presence of blue. It seemed natural the idea that the Museum should have embodied and reflected this important bond. Additionally, the decision to open the Whanki Museum in this precise location was made by his wife Kim HyangAn, reflecting their personal history of marrying and settling in Seongbukdong, a village near Bugaksan. 

VB: It is so interesting to get acquainted with these various sides of Kim Whanki’s figure, which go beyond his role as an artist and enriched him exponentially. And when it comes to his art as well, he is not accredited as an ordinary artist. I read that many acknowledge him as a “natural born artist,” alluding to his capacity to practice art without boundaries… 

PSL: When Kim Whanki’s friends recalled him, they often described how he would always carry his brush around. He was someone who would work in his studio all the time, from early morning to night, except for meal breaks. You know, before he moved to New York in 1963, he was already widely acknowledged as a prominent painter in Korea. However, when he arrived in the city, he re-started his career once again to find new ways of doing art. For instance, he started testing the characteristics of color pigmentation on Korean paper or newspapers and made objects with paper clay. He was extremely brave to devote himself fully to art, and his renowned abstract paintings–such as the dot painting series–are the results of his infinite experimentations on composition, technique, materials, and so on. 

VB: And prior to New York, he had already visited Tokyo and Paris. How do you think these experiences shaped his practice? And I wonder how he would relate to the Korean element of his work during all these encounters with different artistic environments across the globe. 

PSL: If I had to describe Kim Whanki in a few words, I would say that his work embodied the beauty of both Asian and Western culture with continuous challenge and endeavor. He studied and acted as the front runner of the avant-garde movement in Tokyo and worked in Paris and New York respectively in the ‘50s and ‘60s-’70s, when modern art was incubated and then flourished. It seemed that he tried to learn new ways of doing art while always trying to keep his identity as a Korean artist whenever he was. We could say that he experienced a constant flow of references and stimuli, which resulted in endless dialogues between East and West. Today, the audience still discovers a warm feeling in his moon jar painting, silent sentiments in [his] mountain and the moon painting, and Asian philosophies in his dot painting. However, when they look at his abstract art, there’s an inevitable Western influence in it.