Myonghi or the art of today
Myonghi’s painting has found a paradoxical place in contemporary art, standing both in the heart of its stakes and away from its centers of power, of seduction or of business. Remarkable for her discretion, the Korean painter has already achieved a rich and long course. She has built her work. But she did it in the peace of her studio. Her art is a secret for the initiated.
Her artistic career has been punctuated by important exhibitions, prestigious places, great names noticed her, greeted her and admired her all along these years, as did Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe or Alain Jouffroy.
Furthermore, her work takes up its own space in the searches of her time. She accompanied the movement to rule out the frontiers of abstraction. She is in no way out of time or unclassifiable, she is not on the fringe. Here is her personal strength, she is both in the centre and on the fringes, in an endless breathing owing everything to the perfect adherence of her work to her personality. All those who know her are always surprised, at each of their meetings, by the deeply juvenile enthusiasm she shows when welcoming each one of them. Her steps which never seem to touch the earth, which, draped in long studio overalls, seem to belong to a spirit, never stopping, constantly floating above reality. She dances through life as she does through her paintings, always coming back, and yet without any repetition, as if finally, it were a gestural prayer.
There is something limitless in her work. No project, no program. A pure sensibility freed from boundaries, a disembodied painting for which, consequently, the question of figuration and representation is right away asked from a new angle.
Finally, her painting is absolutely contemporaneous, whether she wanted it to be or not.
It is a painting made for the world opening in front of us today, mold and shaped by internationalization. Because Myonghi throws bridges between cultures, between imaginations. She is one of the world weavers whose paintings will remain as the most accomplished expressions of a period. She is one of those who have accepted the patchwork of this global world, resisting day after day the standardization of images, signs, even ideas by renewing all the density of the power of classical shapes. Her art took her from the efflorescence of campuses and artists groups of the 60’s, in Europe and in France, the opposition against an establishment smothering personalities in Korea to the resistance to cultural standardization accompanying the rebirth and ‘aggiornamento’ of the thousands of years old Asian civilization.
This painting is rooted in our world, with its doubts and its fears. We must not imagine that Myonghi’s painting, because its main themes are landscapes, because it seems abstract and because its titles limit themselves to the statement of immediate data about the painting, subjects, location or date, that this painting would be out of its time and out of History. History flows through the paintings, it dwells in them even without representation. It is a matter of flood, of process, of movements and of progress. This History flowing like rivers – and too often rivers of blood in this wounded Asia – as the studio of Jeju reminds us, that was built on the rubble of a political slaughter that foreshadowed the war in Korea.
The exhibition of the KwaiFung Gallery in Hong Kong presents 51 recent works by Myonghi, especially the drawings of the Herbes series (Grass) and the pastels of theTombeau des Egarés (Shrine of the Wandering) but also large formats inspired by landscapes from the Pacific, from Korea and from the Gobi Desert, gripping in their epic chaos.
The presence of nature : the landscape beyond the abstraction
Nature dwells in Myonghi’s paintings. She has recreated landscapes painting beyond representation and abstraction, a painting that also expresses a new sensibility of man vis-à-vis nature. The phenomenon-nature withdraws, tamed by the machine and the hand of man, often destroyed, but it lets this other fragile nature show, vibrant with energy through time and which we cannot escape. Its principle has been rediscovered, lived through by the new planetary men, like a substitute identity. Nature is in the very heart of all beings, a pure principle of generation of shapes, of diversity, of life. Deus sive Natura, God or Nature in the language of Spinoza. It is the inexhaustible source of shapes, the multiple and the unique simultaneously, created by the great ‘clamor of the being’ evoked by Gilles Deleuze. These infinite shapes follow one another in time or juxtapose themselves in incompatible possibilities. On the canvas, they are reconciled. The movement, the hesitation of the being, the discontinuity, the need to be, the future, all this jointly shows in the paintings. The explosive profusion of colors joins the delicacy of the palette with its infinitely subdivided transitions. The vibration of the outline joins the mystery of the broken up light. Everything that is held together in the artist’s brush combines into an intention, into a sensibility, the one consisting in becoming the seismograph of the world, the one providing to the human body and soul a mission and an adventure. At the time when the link between nature and mankind disintegrates, when arises the doubt, the anxiety, the temptation to create a doctrine and to resort to ideologies to rebuild a broken link, Myonghi proposes another path, the modest search of a new harmony.
The art of escape : escaping the landscapes
Nature, Myonghi drives it out. She goes to get it sometimes in its grimmest recesses, at other times in its most sparkling landscapes, wet with grass and flowering. In Touraine, as in the Alps, in the savageness of the forests in the mountains and in the domestication of formal gardens, she finds the matter for her representation everywhere, just enough to enable her to walk the boundary where she finds in a perfect balance, the full and the void, representation and abstraction, material and spiritual, perception and intuition. This endlessly repeated movement of the brush is an art of tightrope walking, an art of the furthermost bounds of risk, an art facing the possibility of the disappearance of the motif. I particularly think of this magnificent tondo entitled Orangeraie (n° 8) (Orange grove – n° 8). Three successive colored levels discover, in a gripping deepness effect, an Italian sky filled with fullness and yet with nostalgia. The explosion of crimson and the deep green reminding impenetrable forests protect, like the veils of reality. For the most ephemeral to the everlasting eternity, we sink into the mystery of the being.
Because Myonghi is a tireless traveler pacing the world to find the exceptional locations where her art of shaman will start resonating. From Mongolia to Patagonia, from Sicily to Touraine, she goes to meet the world in the search of new landscapes. With a preference for the savagery of extremes, this breath of the deserts letting rise to the surface nearly bared the origins of the world. May be like the sorcerers of the Stone Age who went to consecrated caves, to confront walls, reproduce hundreds of times the spine of a wild beast, guess in the wrinkles and crevices of the rock the drawing the wall itself wants, calls for, determines. A physical body art, an art of the confrontation and of the presence into the world.
The series of paintings of the Gobi Desert, like the magnificent Gobi 2003 – 2013 (n° 51) testifies to this fierceness. A world of dust tormented by the void is stirring on the canvas. A primitive chaos where the red earth is also the memory of the bottom of the oceans of ancient beginnings. Where the sand desert and the water desert are only separated one from the other by the vastness of an endless instant. Exactly what is held in each of Myonghi’s paintings.
Time and color
Myonghi penetrates the secrets of time. By dint of patience and repetition, like the melody endlessly resumes and yet always altered of a fugue. She assesses time as time assesses itself. Therefore when facing her paintings, we have to take the time to let in front of the eye the series of works succeed one another bursting out of a common inspiration and numbered by her. It is also to respect the time spent to work facing the easel ; to see the continuity through decades of numerous paintings, the return of names, motives, colors after a long absence. It is like a geological chronology leaving stratum upon stratum. A cumulative time, full, material that settles on the painting and, depending on the circumstances, makes opaque, colors or veils the light that, because of this, seems to become the absolute contrary of time, like instantaneity itself.
This is an amazing feat. The painting, in this accepted confrontation between the matter and the light, succeeds in capturing this fleeting eternity that is the world. Because it is a capturing system, a trap like the ones that are dug deep in the mountains to catch particles believed to be undetectable.
We must free ourselves from sensory perception to open to the possibility of an intuition, of a spiritual perception. It is to free ourselves from the process that is our relationship with time. The process of sensation that develops a signal from comparative stimulations. The process of reasoning that develops truths from a series of operations. Intuition alone escapes time. Intuition alone represents light. Intuition alone is the experience of freedom. Everything else is only illusion and artifice, slavery and constraint.
Myonghi’s art strives towards truth. But at the risk of unverifiability. This is Myonghi’s art asceticism, both a practice and an invitation. A way to compel oneself to a way of truth which only measure would be the artistic gesture but which validity would in fact go much further beyond. The paintings are only the emerged scattered pieces of the work that remains forever uncompleted, always in the process of accomplishment.
On the surface of Myonghi’s paintings, the time bends so much that the instant tends to join eternity. Probably not entirely, and that is what generates the very special vibration of these paintings, the impression that captivates the onlooker, soothes and worries him in turn, going sometimes towards the beauty of the instant, sometimes towards the fierceness of eternity.
At the turning point between light and time, the ephemeral can be found which belongs to both of them. It is a flickering, a flashing. Something that can only be assessed by its consequences, like this Cerisier foudroyé (Cherry tree struck by lightning). Full of delicacy, the fragile spur of wounded lights spreads from the dark verticality of a devastated blackened trunk.
The intention is cosmic. Nature, behind the profusion of appearances, goes on with a fight of elementary forces. And color is the dimension through which this struggle shows. Side by side with space and time, there is indeed another dimension, unrecognized, which is light or color, which is one and the same thing. It is to the quest for these hidden lights that Myonghi dedicates an important part of her research. This light from the depths is a witness-light, even a ghost-light like the distant lights inEtoile (Star), that might well be the residual glow of a star that died ages ago. It is the light-movement revealed by the course of the stars and the cycle of time in Dix Lunes (Ten moons) for example. Oceanic lights also become as important. They are the heart of the series entitles Pacifique (Pacific) where bubbles of bluish light circulate on the canvas or on the paper. Pacifique 2012 (Pacific 2012) invites us to an explosion of colors, in the ocean in majesty, where the turmoil turns to pandemonium.
In the presence of the world
When the very idea of a world order seems to be set for the mockery of all, scientists, artists, statesmen, there is yet a tenacious voice in Myonghi’s work that tells us : the world is one. There is a wordless thought that embraces the cosmos, that in a same motion thinks the world, nature and mankind, may be even the mind. Something powerful and terrifying dwelling at the top of the dark pines lined up in black forests in Korea, in Jeju. Something that needs shamans and ritual pillars, at distant intervals in the landscape. Something that makes essential the resonating of bells forged by centuries and the power of the mind. Because if cosmos exists, it is without diapason. It goes out of tune every moment, out of any ‘magnetic flux’ as Rene Char would call it. Because this continuity force that runs through the world and arranges the instants in series, that makes time happen in the magma of joined eternities, it is a force of the mind which is the love of the world, the deep union of the spirit and the matter. There it is less a belief than a wisdom. It is an attitude when facing the world, an attitude inviting each one of us to walk through the painting and be converted to another life, to cast off the unessential, even the lasting unessential, because everything that is ephemeral is not insignificant.
These are mirror-paintings and passage-paintings. Change-paintings accompanying lives. Because, once more, at the risk of repetition, it is here a matter of celebrating the miracle of presence and not the mystery of representation.
Myonghi’s painting is disconcerting, playing between the void and the full. What a contrast between the explosion of colors in Monsilang (n° 44) and the fierce ascetic paintings such as Touraine (n° 13) where all colors seem to have withdrawn. One of the Church Fathers said that God had left the world and that there was nothing left but the waiting for His return. But by way of promise for His return, He has left the colors. It is the same meditation that the Korean painter pursues. The sole tension of the soul is able to maintain a harmony of which the world is no longer capable with its strength alone. It is all the time a matter of recreating it not to multiply it or out of capriciousness, but because without this effort it would cease to exist. It is a matter, through the colors, to stay in tune with the world, to capture its song.
Several of the paintings presented in this exhibition come from one of the places Myonghi is particularly fond of. It is Jeju Island in Korea, where she has installed her studio in the open, far from the cities and often far from men, to confront the fierceness of nature. She finds there the shady landscapes enabling her to work on those deep greens that grip the onlooker and make him go over some sort of melodic line of sensations. Those greens both soothing and disturbing, that are the spur of the sap of a nature in full growth and this crack leading to the world of the shadows, of the dead and of the depths. This green of the ocean and of the opaque primary forest where all ancient people, from the Greeks and the Romans to the Indians of the Plain have located the dwelling place of the departed and of the spirits.
A cartography of breaths
Myonghi studies landscapes as we study faces. She reads the hills, the rivers and the forests as we interpret the moods of a person by the line of the nose, the bulge of the forehead or the shade of the skin. As such she draws like a seismograph fully intent to record the tremor of the world, to fix the succession of states on one canvas only. That is how the dancing cracked drawing, endlessly touched up, little by little becomes outline and shape. Here we are at the opposite of the pure line of the art of the Renaissance when each instant is an eternity. Time thickens on the canvas instead of lightening and finally disappear. It leaves prints and stratums. This time has become matter and it is most evidently what gives Myonghi’s paintings their impressive beauty.
The painter tries to capture the world, to tame and canalize it. It is a civilization venture. She challenges the world. But Myonghi takes a special place in this adventure and in this undertaking. She goes towards the world, determined to record everything, to trace everything, to list everything. She does not incorporate it. She chooses to make the world and her work coincide, to establish its cartography as the ultimate form of representation. The paintings keep the trace of the memory of the places that produced them or that made them possible. Like a geomantic map of the power nodes of the earth, a record of the sources of the breath.
This is how she describes her own work, patient return upstream, towards the source of the landscape. She works her own way up to the essential. Little by little she nears the breath and that is when the work is completed. She can go forward towards another animal source. Let’s look at the splendid painting entitled Gobi 2003 – 2013, a testimony of ten years of continuous creation, of touching up, of restorations. This painting, it is time turned matter, it is a vintage color like those wines kept to improve. Myonghi, we can feel it, has watched out to the changing, the variations. She has traveled this surface, unsatisfied and passionate, looking for a completion. Who knows to how many places she carried this painting, to soak it in new lights, to assess its colors from life, on the surface of yellow tomatoes she grows with the same passion she puts in her painting, on the iridescent feathers of a duck wing, on the red earth that settled at the bottom of the deserts. She probably took it, as if it were a child, to meet men, looked at it through the eyes of others, trying to guess what can be seen by those who did not see what she saw when painting it. Ten years, the time of a glance. Besides it was not unusual for her to keep track of the series of events that had accompanied the gestation of the painting and even more so for the so very special day that is the day of the completion. It also happens that she dates the same painting several times, thus giving it the substance of life.
To grow and create a work, it is to feed each time. Each time, it is life. Not the profuse and instantaneous vitality, but the life that follows the passing time, the life as alteration. Because Myonghi’s art is first and foremost an eulogy of metamorphosis, the acceptance of life as an alteration sometimes harmonious, sometimes out of tune, between inner transformations and the modifications of the world.
Myonghi, shaman painter and traveler among the worlds
If we were to venture to give an only description of her work, a trunk for shamans, may be, as they can be found along the roads and at the edge of Korean forests. The long painted trunks topped with a round crows-nest stand as testimonies of offerings to a nature as often protective as disturbing. The same applies to these paintings that are at the same time a piece of nature, that are part of it, as intimately as if there were no other creative breath in them than in what they represent, and a challenge between the human mind against nature, to plant in it a part of humanity, a point of view, a common measure in front of immoderation.
‘Follow nature’ to know oneself through painting.
The world leaks. It is hollowing out, caving in.
In a decentred world, one might think that everybody is on the fringe and everybody is in exile. And yet the truth is that each one, each thing becomes the center of it. It is the case as cosmology proved it in our expanding universe. It is the case, in a different way, in our world decentred by political and cultural transformations, in our civilizations decentred by the modifications of mentalities, hopes, technical means.
There is no doubt that the inner void that won over many lives in a world to which it is hard to find a meaning, is a source of resonance with those paintings. One looks into it, as always in art collection, for a healing, an intimate as well as collective healing.
It would be easy to wish Myonghi to be kept aside of the history of art. May be would she wish it herself, exiled out of time, out of tradition, out of view, constantly tracing her own vanishing lines, far from the markets, the galleries, the established circuits of artistic fame. It would be a serious mistake. Myonghi is a key to possible reconciliations in a pictorial field disturbed by struggles. She brings her answer without fuss, but in the most literal meaning, by evidence. She puts it right under the eyes. What her paintings tell us, it is that we were on the wrong track when identifying figuration with representation. That the West took the risk of abstraction to free itself from imitation and representation. That the East has lost itself in the virtuosity of the presence. That, in short, we were to make both pieces of the puzzle adjust, the pictorial traditions of the East and the West, their respective dead ends, to find new paths, even if it means picking up the pilgrim’s staff abandoned on the road by other uncommon and misunderstood creators. Looking at Myonghi’s painting I think about Fra Angelico’s strange frescoes in Saint Mark monastery in Florence. Patches of colors that strike with astonishment because they seem to be an incredible incursion towards abstraction, at a time when it was still unimaginable.
Myonghi stands at one of these essential crossroads where the art of tomorrow is brewing and that is why her paintings will never stop gaining in importance and in visibility. To live is to paint. Everything is dedicated to art and light. The whole world is her studio.
Paint as a poet, paint with the poets
Everything also made of interwoven meetings, because this intimate wisdom is an endless exchange, a breathing with the world as well as with other creators. Her truth, she did not seek it in the overexposure of the market, she patiently worked on it in the secret of the friendly word. There is no doubt that Myonghi has always worked with the best, to confront her creation to the one of poets, scientists, wise men, those whose responsibility is, may be, to go on making the world move forward.
Poets have a very special place in Myonghi’s art. First because she conceives her work as a dialogue, a meeting and a sharing. It is an infallible sign to see painters accept to make their way with other artists. It is also a sign that she seeks her poet friends like she seeks her landscapes, all through the whole world, from Arabic countries to France and to China, without debarment.
But there is another reason, the affinity of her practice of painting with poetry. It is a common gesture that leads to the poem and to the painting, the sign sent as a divinatory challenge to the forces of the mind. Throw up the scattered parts of sense, full of the breathing of desire, of the fright, of the scream. In the most ascetic paintings, testifying to the sharpest research, we are at the border of the line, the drawing and the sign. We stand where the world lay bare.
In the sharpness of the line, a doubt creeps. Are we facing a sign or facing a drawing. They both seem to escape us in turn. The eye tries to tame these lines retraced, these outlines delicately accentuated, but yet it always seems to escape her, to sway, to shatter.
Arbre Caoutchouc (Rubber tree) is the spectacular testimony of this. It shows a shower of signs, a swarming of lines at the dawn of becoming drawing. It would seem that we witness the gestation of the sense. This game between the sign, the drawing and the designation gives to this painting an access to the being through its very appearances. A hybrid line has been created that is not calligraphy – yet the series of Herbes (Grass), (more especially n° 37, March 2013) in red chalk and in black, are so alike the dance of elaborate Arabic characters – nor representation but experience of the link between the sign and the signified, this designation wonderfully described by Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe, one of the main thinkers of the art of the last quarter of century, about Myonghi, in his Ecrits sur l’Art.
Paint on a human scale
Each one of Myonghi’s paintings has a story. They talk to her. They enclose a period of time, more or less long, spent in a place, in a particular state of mind. They are pieces of herself and pieces of the world. That is what makes any exhibition of Myonghi’s works complex, intimate and moving. Because she unveils herself in them as much as she offers a world to see. To love her paintings, is always to enter into Myonghi’s friendship beforehand.
It is a painting made, more than one can imagine, of anger, fears and passions. The impulses of the soul show on its surface and explode, like the extraordinarily expressive variations of Tournesol Noir (Black sunflower) (n° 11 and 12). Superficial glances will readily imagine in these paintings an indifferent, unchanging, frozen world where the asceticism of the painter would lead her. On the contrary, it is fully a painting of life, a painting made of life and made to accompany the life of those accepting to lose themselves in these paintings. No messages slapping the walls of internationalized cities, but calls for freedom, for the full taking of possession of oneself in a fully political movement, a movement for union. One might wager that the painter feels a fair dose of sympathy for all rebellions, even if often naively, to reinvent a world for themselves instead of accepting to inherit it. To paint, it is an act of freedom, a silent overflowing over all the limits. Myonghi stands far away from static compositions. She chose daring. She chose to confront the void when it comes, without hiding it behind academic conventions. In some of her paintings, it is there, devouring, in the heart of everything, face to face. It is a freedom traveled like a road, a succession of moves in a strategy game, black pieces and white pieces, colors and empty spaces played in turn to establish a contact, to make the problem, the crack, the possibility appear. And after a final analysis, it is what remains incarnated and like embedded in the depths of the painting, an invisible fight.
I wrote it earlier, but I have to repeat it with the same methodical obstinacy, as Myonghi’s brush. As a matter of fact, it is a secret art. A well kept secret that all along the years has sought the recognition of her fellow painters and poets rather than the general public. More exactly, she goes on walking towards the public and its light, but in a friendly respect. It is not a matter of seduction to forget time in the pleasure of the instant, but rather to convince one by one, to address people, to what is the most intimate and genuine in each of us, instead of the masses. To shed all sparkling to avoid becoming glass jewelry. Myonghi surrounds herself with an always thicker, denser and more solid circle of friendships, the way the trunks of the dark pines grow that haunt her native Korea. Slow growth, continuous, where the accumulated past endlessly comes to protect the newness in its fragility. Unique work where the sap is sucked up towards vertiginous heights by the cohesion on the paintings, as many fibrous cells that give its upholding to the global architecture.
Man is at the heart of Myonghi’s painting, even if he does not appear in it, even if his name, his movements and his works very seldom appear in the list of titles. But it is the habitability of the world that is interrogated, it is the human condition that is questioned. In the painting entitled Keumneung (n° 46), in the middle of this swell of light and shade, we are gripped by a feeling of threat, by the fleetingness of a skiff lost at sea. Just as the magnificent Village seems to be floating in the air, suspended, ready to dissolve or crash down on earth. The possibility of life remains at any minute revocable.
Art of the internationalization ? Yes, because Myonghi expresses a new sharing of the world. Her art becomes a link between the East and the West. But it is not a one way link, on the contrary it is a path one can take in every direction and a place where the aspirations of the East and of the West can meet, but where can also interlink other meetings, other inspirations, other civilizations. Myonghi opens doors that nobody had guessed were there. Often because she confronts them with her smiling mischief, because she knows how to take shortcuts. We would like her to be a painter from the East who left to discover Western art and came back to her native land for a harmonious synthesis. Anyone who is acquainted with Myonghi knows that it is extremely more complicated. That no one could confine her and even less keep her imprisoned in any school or in any trend, not even in any culture. That she practiced and mastered the painting of Western origin before coming back to the traditions of Eastern art. She adopted the landscape not because of tradition, but because she conquered it. There is a long way between her landscapes and the classical silks of the East, with their aqueous mists, with the balances in their composition. They are also far away from the destructured and rearticulated landscapes with the colored patches of European modernity, as in Cezanne’s Sainte Victoire for example. Myonghi is infinitely equidistant.
She started with Western art, as the witness of a generation with worldwide horizons. She came back later on but without any disowning and without any conversion to any teachings, both philosophical and technical of Eastern painting. This path towards the past can be seen in the modifications of the paintings, in a new dialectic of the sign and of the color. Some similarities can be found, with the difference of one generation, between the path of a Zao Wou-Ki trained to European modern art during his youth before discovering his own artistic identity and Myonghi’s progression, between the poles of Korea and Touraine.
Sacred art ? Yes, these paintings are impregnated with a wisdom of the world and a respect for the primitive forces of nature. A sacrality made of astonishment and of respect, Of humbleness too. A sacrality that cuts out privileged spaces, as the Latin etymology of the word temple defines it. The space delimited and consecrated no longer touches the earth with Myonghi, it is lifted up on the surface of the painting, the rectangle or the circle thus becoming windows facing the true reality. The painting entitled Tombeau des Egarés (Shrine of the wandering) that Myonghi entitled after a poem she had asked me to write for a common work, bears witness of this will to go beyond the visible reality, but inside the world, without escaping into abstraction, speculation or imagination. Successive caskets, hardly visible and like translucent, make misty bubbles around a heart, always denser, opaque, mysterious. The beauty – the visible only – is in the foam of the sacred, in the fertile mist that shrouds the ruins and the old forests. The sacred, like time, is present. And it is only by acknowledging this irrefutable fact that we also can feel at peace with the world.
Here is what really is the closer to my heart in the presentation of this magnificent exhibition. These paintings that will join the collections of well informed art lovers are a promise. There are, according to painters, paintings that are technical feats, or intellectual successes or ruptures with social conventions. They are exhibited, in public or in private, because they bear witness of all this.
Myonghi’s paintings are different. They are alive. They are out of time. They are absolutely present. They are efficient, which means that they influence those who look at them and they transform the place where they are exhibited, museum or private collection. They radiate the power of joy that made them arise, this bliss of the painting that so few artists are able to capture, live and return and that Myonghi has been endowed with, as it has for example been the case for Zao Wou-Ki.
Myonghi is a real medicine-woman, an embodied spirit able, with her brushes and her infinite display of colors, to cure the souls. A long lasting friendship binds me to Myonghi. From Touraine to Korea, I have had the luck of this endlessly renewed meeting, the joy of sharing a common work, the astonishment of seeing her paint. This mixture of gentle tranquility and incessant whirling has always reminded me of the trail left by a bird taking flight. She twirls around her painting, absorbing all the emergency of the instant, fully receptive to the impression and to the sensation of the moment, attentive to the slightest modification of the light. The work is both ascetic and joyful. Between the white luminous walls of her various studios, to the tents she sets up in the deserts of the world, nothing else but the work in progress. All the rooms are taken up by works in progress, always breaking through the division between the places of life and work because one and the other are the same. Myonghi talks and shares. Her works are made to be seen. They are a common space where human word becomes possible, at the same time subject, language, space of all possible friendship. She thinks, she talks and she breathes the painting.
Through this exhibition a new dimension of Myonghi’s art at last appears to the public. She is one of the greatest artists overlapping two centuries and rooted into the worlds. She is one of the voices that count and that will count to bear witness of the modifications of the world and of the new aspirations.