Minnongji, whose name combines the characters for “beautiful” (mi) and “dense” (nong), is a thin, semi-translucent paper. It is delicate enough to allow the light, colors, and forms of neighboring landscapes and objects to pass through its entire body, yet it is in fact made from the inner fibers of trees. For this reason, it is strong enough to endure richly inked brushstrokes and has even been used as munpungji, paper fitted to doors to block wind and dampness. In envisioning a soft and gentle world upon a flat surface, Suyeont was drawn to this fragile yet resilient material.
A gentle world. Gentle things. Things that are thin, light, and airy. Things that are clear. A soft world that does not harden and shatter, but bends distinctly, wraps around, and supports. The pale colors, lines, and forms Suyeont works with metaphorically convey the shape and texture of the relationships she contemplates. It is a world of perception and values that permeates softly, at times intersects and then merges by seeping in—a world that draws people in and offers a form of salvation.
In order to make the sensations of this world the ground of her paintings, Suyeont first realized a support that is thin and translucent, like a “membrane.” Two layers of soft, light-permeable cotton cloth are placed face to face and adhered to a firm panel, upon which she paints. Unlike asa fabric, which bears pigment with a bluish cast, cotton cloth carries warmth, absorbing paint as if drawing it in, and thus retains a clear, healthy tonality. She then chose as motifs things that are thin and light: tracing paper, threads and strings, the forms of paper folding, and butterfly wings.
In < Tracing Paper >, Suyeont captures the phenomenon whereby layering multiple sheets of minnongji renders the overlapping surfaces opaque, yet paradoxically causes them to emit a brighter light than a single sheet alone. The metaphor of relationships continues in the motifs of threads and strings that intertwine, cross, bind, and connect, as seen in Knot. Meanwhile, the works gathered together in the anteroom on the third floor—< Home >, < Orb >, < Pillar >, < Crane >, < Lily and Rainbow Pink >, and < Clover and Hydrangea >—all originate from the forms of paper folding. In these works, Suyeont recalls both the flat, fragile nature of the surface and the light, refreshing pleasure inherent in the act of folding paper.
There is a vivid joy that persists in this act, even when one applies force with the fingertips to create something—a sense of play and freedom that this gesture affords. This playful lightness, born of emptying weight, can also be found in < Etude >. As the eye moves from the upper to the lower part of the picture plane, multiple wings drawn across the surface gradually lose one line after another that defines their form, while the background color also fades. Eventually, both line and color are emptied entirely.
Suyeont’s paintings are boldly pared down. They are works distilled and ordered through one or two colors, a handful of motifs, and a few straight lines. She likens these simplified images to “maps.” Because “it is impossible to draw everything,” they are “a collection of symbols containing only the information that is absolutely necessary, so that each viewer may project their own world and unfold it,” or, alternatively, a “diagram.” These quiet paintings suggest a foundational form in which existence itself becomes the salvation of existence.
