Episode 42: The Genius Hides His Paintings
“Lower the age of the sponsored artist to twenty?”
“Yes!”
Ryu Miyeon was a little surprised by her daughter’s request but firmly shook her head.
“No, the minimum is 24 years.”
Seoyeon asked in a disappointed voice.
“Why not? You said Picasso was a genius who picked up a brush in elementary school and was so talented that his painter father couldn’t paint anymore. Plus, the art world loves young prodigies.”
“Seoyeon, the foundation separately selects young prodigies.”
“There might have been circumstances that prevented them from applying when they were younger… Why did you set the age at 24? Is there a specific reason?”
Ryu Miyeon touched her forehead and replied.
“That’s the age Michelangelo was when he created the Pieta.”
“He’s really good too! I even saw a plaster statue that looked alive once. Of course, he broke it, but still…”
“…You’re saying things that aren’t like you. The art world indeed wants young prodigies. It’s true that the younger they are, the greater the impact. But art isn’t that simple. It’s not just about having skills. The Pieta isn’t just a technical work.”
“What I mean is… He already has the skills and is fundamentally different from others. If he gets sponsorship, his work will gain depth and develop unimaginably.”
Seoyeon seemed determined to persuade Ryu Miyeon, who found her reaction curious since she had never been so assertive before.
‘Who could it be? She said it was a school friend; I should go check out their exhibition if they have one…’
Ryu Miyeon smiled and patted Seoyeon’s head.
“I’m glad there’s someone you want to defend so much. I don’t think you’ve ever introduced anyone as a friend before…”
“Mom, it’s not because he’s my friend. It’s my intuition.”
“Alright. I trust your judgment. But does your friend have enough works? The portfolio requirement is 20 pieces, right?”
“Well…”
Seoyeon thought it unlikely that Kang Lim, who had just enrolled, would have so many paintings and closed her mouth.
Ryu Miyeon gently comforted her disappointed daughter.
“Many young prodigies in the art world never see the light and disappear quickly due to a lack of depth in their thinking.”
“…”
“Like in literature, people who have experienced a lot write with a sense of reality. Art is also referred to as the art of twilight for similar reasons. Unless there’s a brain of an old soul in a young body, it’s challenging.”
Seeing Ryu Miyeon make an impossible assumption, Seoyeon realized it would be hard to change her mother’s mind.
But she wanted to ask one more time for the promising talent she didn’t want to miss.
“Then, if he brings 20 pieces, would you consider it?”
“Haha, you don’t give up easily.”
“Pardon?”
“Alright. Let’s have a meal first.”
Ryu Miyeon took the tweed jacket hanging on the coat rack and stepped outside.
Kang Lim scrolled through his phone, looking for solo exhibition applications.
‘They say an artist isn’t an artist until they’ve held a solo exhibition…’
Unlike group exhibitions where only one piece is submitted, the time and passion required for a solo exhibition are incomparable.
Depending on the gallery’s size, at least 20 pieces are needed for a solo exhibition.
Artists typically spend about 1-2 years preparing for their first solo exhibition.
In short, a solo exhibition showcases the artist’s long-term research achievements.
‘This one looks good. Baekyeon Gallery has a good reputation, it’s spacious with 120 pyeong, and its location in Gangnam is great. Being next to the Heyum Museum, there’s a chance a museum director might pass by and see it.’
Kang Lim accessed the Baekyeon Gallery website to see the detailed application guidelines.
The website had a section for viewing the portfolio format and the works of selected artists.
‘Wow… The competition for solo exhibition applications is over 70:1 every year. They say there aren’t many people in the art world, but looking at this, there are plenty.’
Gallery and museum.
Though they essentially mean the same, in Korea, the names often differ based on the scale.
Large exhibition spaces run by the state or corporations are called museums.
Galleries refer to relatively smaller spaces.
Baekyeon Gallery was special in this regard.
Though not operated by the state or a corporation, it was quite large.
Kang Lim carefully read the application guidelines.
- Eligibility: All pure artists active in Korea (no restrictions on experience or age)
Support:
- Exhibition space
- Promotion by domestic media
- Banner and catalog
- Curator’s exhibition preface
- Cost of artwork transportation and installation.
Submission: Portfolio
(Artist’s biography, career, artist’s note, and at least 20 images of works matching the exhibition theme)
Exhibition Theme: Fragments of Memory
Despite having no experience restrictions, a portfolio requiring a biography and career is a typical aspect of solo exhibitions.
Fortunately, Kang Lim had many experiences to fill in his portfolio.
‘It’s a relay solo exhibition with a theme. The theme suits me perfectly.’
In a relay exhibition, artists matching the curator’s theme take turns exhibiting over a set period.
Typically, for a six-month planned exhibition, six artists take turns exhibiting for a month each.
The exhibition period being much longer than group exhibitions provides a significant advantage in terms of exposure.
‘Wow. They even cover transportation costs and make a catalog. This is a rare opportunity. I must apply.’
Kang Lim printed the application guidelines and put them in his bag.
‘It’s finally time to open my storage. I’ve been waiting for a solo exhibition.’
Kang Lim entered the adjoining room he had set up as his workspace.
The walls were covered with plastic, and the floor was carpeted with foam.
‘I haven’t worked here since starting school, so it feels like it’s been a while.’
The room bore traces of paint and ink everywhere.
This space, filled with signs of use, was Kang Lim’s treasure trove.
After gaining the ability to remember everything, his observational skills became unusually sharp.
When he didn’t know how to handle his uncontrollable talent,
Every day, he came here and poured out images as they came to him.
He hadn’t wasted the 15 years after his regression.
He broadened his thinking, developed an eye for good artwork,
And accumulated the best works alone.
Currently, there were about 2,000 pieces, including palm-sized paintings.
‘Fragments of Memory… This is perfect.’
Kang Lim searched through the stacked piles of paintings.
Despite being on the cheaper side, the acrylics he used had excellent color and durability.
What differentiated his materials from other artists was that he painted without fixing the fabric to the canvas frame.
This method prevented the paintings from becoming bulky, allowing him to stack multiple pieces.
Without a spacious personal studio, it was an inevitable choice.
Kang Lim always bought fabric from Dongdaemun, cut it as he pleased, attached it to the wall, and painted freely.
He experimented with various fabrics, from light muslin to high-quality aasa.
‘It’s easy to find since I organized them by theme…’
Kang Lim took out the pieces he painted early after his regression.
He maintained the paintings’ conditions by placing thin rice paper between them for ventilation.
The woman in the paintings always gazed out the window.
With a look that seemed to pray for the day to pass safely.
After witnessing a murder, Kang Lim continuously painted his mother, who worried about her son’s autism.
His mother’s unique expressions and gestures seemed to encapsulate all human emotions.
‘After the incident, I painted whenever I had the chance. This series of 17 pieces is a record of the year following the incident.’
Kang Lim aimed to continue the series, capturing his mother’s current, brighter appearance.
He intended to complete the series with memorable expressions.
‘The 17 pieces I have are about size 50. If I add a few more of the same size, it should be enough for 120 pyeong.’
Kang Lim selected one of the earliest pieces, put it in a large paper bag, and headed to school.
The summer heat was still sweltering.
Fortunately, the air conditioner was on when he entered the studio.
Though it was obvious who would come during the vacation…
“Ahhh!”
Shin Taemin’s painting was far from obvious.
As soon as Kang Lim turned the corner, he was startled by the grotesque image.
The image was entirely unexpected.
It looked like a dead person’s face.
Why paint something so large? It almost gave me a heart attack.
Kang Lim placed his hand on his startled heart and put down his bag.
“You’re here.”
Without turning around, Shin Taemin continued painting.
It seemed like he was unconsciously building up repetitive strokes.
Endless darkness.
The self-portrait with deeply hollow eyes made one question if this was indeed the studio.
It almost seemed like a shaman should come and perform a ritual.
If an image this shocking was a success, Kang Lim decided to congratulate him.
It was obvious how much he had holed up to paint this.
“The size of the painting is surprising, but… It’s well done. Unique and good.”
Shin Taemin let out a deep sigh and replied.
“This? Isn’t it too stiff and depressing? I hate it.”
This isn’t narcissism; it’s self-loathing…
Kang Lim looked at the deflated Shin Taemin.
“I always hate my paintings. They feel like trash.”
Shin Taemin put down his brush and stretched.
Wanting to take a break, he leaned back in the chair.
“What did you come to paint?”
“This. I came to continue it.”
Kang Lim unfolded the painting he brought.
Shin Taemin was momentarily speechless upon seeing it.
He felt a strange sense of connection with the woman looking out the window.
Moreover, the composition was unique.
Though it was clearly a common villa structure, the perspectives were oddly misaligned.
The background looked fragmented due to the lack of adherence to perspective rules, the texture was rough as if painted on hemp, and the colors were cold as if in resignation.
As if representing the mental state of the seated figure.
“…Who is this? You brought something just as depressing.”
“It’s a long story. It’s my mother. I caused her some distress when I was young.”
“You?”
“Yeah. Life is full of unintended events.”
“Goodness.”
Shin Taemin looked at Kang Lim, who spoke like an old man, in disbelief.
“When did you paint this? The atmosphere is incredible.”
“I told you, I caused some distress when I was young. I painted it when I was six.”
“…?”
Seeing Shin Taemin’s frown, Kang Lim chuckled.
His expression clearly read, ‘Stop lying.’
“It’s true. I painted it when I was six.”
“…Well. I guess nothing surprises me anymore. There are too many unbelievable things.”
“Haha. Does that mean I’m a genius? Thanks.”
“…”
Kang Lim stuck a piece of aasa fabric from Dongdaemun on the wall and took out his paints.
Shin Taemin watched in fascination as Kang Lim started his unique painting method.
Right from the start, nothing about him was ordinary.
“Why don’t you paint on a canvas and instead use sheets?”
“Hmm… When I was young, the bulk was too much to store at home, so I painted on sheets. Looking back, it felt more liberating. Painting directly on a framed canvas makes you forget about the things happening outside the frame, and avoiding that helps.”
You’re someone without a frame from the start.
The thin paint is to fix it later.
Shin Taemin envied the nonchalant Kang Lim.
Kang Lim stared at the canvas, envisioning the image he wanted to paint.
His mother’s gradually brightening appearance as she emerged from despair.
Especially that day, when he could fully sense her emotions.
Shin Taemin couldn’t resist his curiosity anymore and spoke up.
“How do you paint? There’s nothing here…”
Kang Lim momentarily broke his concentration and turned around.
“Are you asking why I don’t use photo references?”
“Yeah.”
“I can remember everything I’ve seen. When I think of an image, it feels like it’s projected onto the paper.”
“…What?”
“What I’m painting now happened almost ten years ago.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean… I remember everything that happened that day. Like being able to read a book I’ve read once in my mind.”
“Is that even possible?”
Crash!
Shin Taemin’s face turned pale.
Simultaneously, the sound of a breaking plate echoed.
