An Interview With Jieun Kim

Jieun Kim’s painting process is a slow and intuitive exploration of color, form, and materiality. Kim often experiments with unconventional techniques like carving or sewing into her canvases to create a sense of dimensionality. Jieun’s work is influenced by her background in classical music, with a focus on the interplay between the physical and the mental, and the relationship between movement and stillness. Jieun is continually exploring the connections between music and painting, seeking to understand the underlying rhythms and vibrations that inform her creative practice.

Can you tell us a little bit about you?

I was born in 1989 in Incheon. I studied music, focusing on the violin, and now I primarily work in painting. I studied and worked in Germany. Currently based in Seoul, occasionally travel to Germany for exhibitions and projects

What does your current process look like and how has it developed since you began painting?

When I first started painting, my work was more illustrative, often depicting objects or environments from my daily life. I would take something specific that I could see and then add or subtract elements using my own perspective and color palette to complete the piece. Over time, I realized that what mattered most to me wasn’t the objects or landscapes themselves, but rather the colors, the arrangement of forms, and the textures on the surface of the painting. That’s when I began focusing less on accurately depicting recognizable subjects and more on the combination of color, form, and texture. For the past few years, I’ve followed a fairly consistent process. I don’t start with a finished sketch; instead, I sit in front of the blank canvas. From there, I become absorbed in small stains on the canvas or vague shapes and colors that come to mind. This is how a single motif begins. From that initial motif, I slowly, and often intuitively, build up colors and forms, layer by layer. It can take anywhere from a few weeks to a year to complete a painting. Most of the time, I spend long periods simply looking at the canvas, observing the accidental elements that emerge, and considering what I can draw/ paint from them. That reflective process takes up the majority of the time.

Can you describe the balance between intuition and reflection in your painting process? How do your material and digital realities influence this?

My process is intuitive in the sense that I build up the painting without a finalized sketch or a clear, concrete image in mind. I rely heavily on instinct when starting, especially with the initial layers. However, this process doesn’t happen quickly. I take my time, carefully reflecting and self-assessing before adding anything further to the canvas. Only when I feel confident after this period of introspection and adjustment do I move forward with the next layer. When it comes to decisions like which colors to use, when to use them, how much to apply, or what shapes and sizes to paint in specific areas, these choices aren’t driven purely by either intuition or reflection alone. Both aspects work together, influencing each decision in harmony. At the same time, I can’t ignore the influence of the digital world on my process. The constant exposure to digital graphics—whether through pop culture, advertisements, or social media—has shaped my aesthetic sensibilities. The bright, bold colors and the graphic quality of contemporary visuals have certainly informed how I think about composition and color choices. Although I primarily work with traditional materials, the digital world indirectly shapes how I approach and perceive imagery and even influences my choice of materials. About 6-7 years ago, I began experimenting with iPad drawing. Unlike analog painting, where I have to decide on the size and medium at the outset, digital drawing allows me to keep all options open throughout the process. I can finish a drawing, change its size afterward, or modify its colors without altering its structure. I can duplicate elements, transform parts, or delete them entirely without affecting the rest of the composition. By integrating digital drawing into my practice, I bring the flexibility of digital media into the realm of painting. This ability to easily modify, alter, or reimagine colors, shapes, and sizes has had a significant impact not only on the aesthetics of my work but also on how I think about the concept of painting itself. In this way, both material and digital realities shape my creative process, pushing the boundaries of what painting can be.

How does your background in classical music influence your practice? What parallels do you see between the two forms of expression?

I believe that music, especially instrumental music without lyrics, shares many similarities with the elements and methods used in painting. In classical instrumental music, the character of the entire piece is determined by how abstract elements like individual notes are combined and delivered in various textures. If there's a single note, let's say 'A,' the overall image of the piece is shaped by how long or short that note is sustained, whether it’s followed by consonant or dissonant sounds, how loud or soft it's played, whether it’s repeated, mixed with others, or whether it’s performed on a violin, a piano, or even as a striking electronic sound. The combination of these individual notes, textures, and rhythms all come together to form the complete piece. This is much like the way I create a painting. Even with the same shade of red, the perception of that red can completely change depending on whether it’s placed next to blue, black, or orange. Similarly, the size, shape, texture, and how it harmonizes with other elements all play a crucial role. In painting, the way these elements are handled can vary depending on the ideas the artist wants to convey or their particular direction. But in my own approach to painting, I find strong parallels with how instrumental music combines notes, tones, and rhythms to present not a concrete image, but rather an abstract whole that invites the audience to imagine and feel something beyond the literal. However I never consciously brought the idea from music when I paint. Nevertheless I often find myself reflecting on how similar the process of composing and arranging music is to how I compose a painting. Just as no single note can contain every possible pitches or sound, the elements in my paintings, even if they exist as thin lines or small shapes, still generally remain as clear, distinct colors and forms that are not mixed. Much like capturing rhythm, the graphic lines and curves in my work might even remind one of musical notation. It’s in these aspects that I feel my background in music has influenced my approach to painting in significant ways.

What is the importance of color in your work?

Color is the most crucial element in my work because the central theme of my painting lies in the combination of colors, forms, and textures. The colors I tend to use are vibrant, highly saturated, and balanced in relation to those already laid down on the canvas. The colors and forms in my paintings are reminiscent of the variety of graphic imagery we constantly encounter in the modern world—much like how people in the past frequently encountered landscapes. In today’s world, we are more likely to come across things like logos on drink bottles, store signage, product packaging, fonts on posters, and the shapes and colors found in street advertisements. I often ask myself where these colors came from. Though I grew up in Korea, my surroundings were heavily influenced by a modernized, Westernized culture, particularly pop culture, as Korea had already undergone significant Westernization during my upbringing. The bright, bold colors I use are likely linked to my early experiences with pop culture through television and the colorful packaging of products I often saw in fancy shops or department stores while following my mom around as a kid. While the combinations of colors and forms are endlessly varied, I aim for the colors in my work to evoke a sense of brightness and positivity.

When did you first realise that you wanted to become an artist?

Well, saying that I wanted to become an artist might not be exactly what I meant. While the term 'artist' may not be the most accurate, I always knew that I wanted to work on something visual, creating things with my own hands. This desire has been with me since I was young. Although I studied music from an early age through college, that path was more aligned with what my parents wanted for me. As a kid, I was always enthusiastic about drawing, crafting, and painting classes. Even though I was learning violin with the intent of pursuing it as my career and had no direct connection to visual arts, I would often tell my classmates that my dream is to become a designer / a painter. Later, while studying violin at university, I began to truly appreciate classical music and playing the violin, especially in orchestras. At the same time, during concert preparations, I found joy in helping my friends with their makeup and started to think that adding a visual element to classical music could be fascinating. This led me to take on the role of organizing new type of concerts with friends—designing posters and setting up the entire visual concept. Through these experiences, I realized how much joy these creative tasks brought me. I continued to explore these interests in my daily life, learning Photoshop and developing a passion for fashion. However, it was more of a hobby thing, and I never considered pursuing it seriously as a career. At the time, I thought more along the lines of becoming a director or someone who could introduce and expand visual aspect in the classical music scene. After graduating from college, I went to Germany to continue my violin studies. But once I arrived and experienced the vibrant fine arts scene there, everything became clear: I have to study fine arts and pursue a career in this field.

What do you enjoy most about creating?

What I enjoy most about creating is the process of taking something abstract, something I can only sense, and bringing it into a physical form. Since I don’t work from a finished sketch, the process is very unpredictable, with many accidental and unforeseen elements coming into play. I often follow my instincts, not knowing exactly how things will turn out, and sometimes I discover things on the canvas that I wasn’t consciously aware of. Those moments of discovery are incredibly satisfying. But beyond personal satisfaction, the real privilege of creating, in my opinion, is this: the opportunity to share the work, engage in conversations about it, and most importantly, enjoy it together. Creating spaces where people can connect through the work and experience joy from it is, without a doubt, one of the most rewarding aspects of the creative process.

Who or what is your biggest inspiration?

When it comes to inspiration, there are many aspects from different areas of my life. However, in terms of my work, painting, my inspiration comes from moments when I encounter something visually striking—something that brightens my senses. This could be a landscape, a stage, a space, an artwork, or even an object. In those moments, I feel a strong desire to create something that can evoke a similar feeling in others. I think to myself, 'I wish I could convey this sensation through something I create.

Are you working on any projects you are particularly excited about?

Recently, I’ve been planning an exhibition that will take place for just one day in a minimalist space. The venue, called Jeil 제일, is a restaurant located in Seongsu-dong, Seoul, and is also featured in the Louis Vuitton City Guide for Seoul. Even though this place functions as a restaurant, the interaction between the guests, the owner's manner, and the space creates an intriguing dynamic. When you first step into this space, it’s hard to immediately grasp what to expect—there’s very little visual or direct textual information that reveals what kind of experience awaits. This sense of ambiguity invites you to explore further, as if the place carefully chooses what to reveal, leaving room for interpretation. This subtle tension between the space and its visitors is like the delicate push and pull you might feel when encountering a work of art, much like in an exhibition, where both sides slowly interpret one another, offering themselves fully to the experience with all senses open, allowing space for mutual understanding. Here offers this same kind of nuanced interaction—something rarely experienced in other spaces. Moreover, far from the typical white cube, the space has a strong character that I had to carefully consider for my presentation, and the very low lighting makes things both more challenging and interesting for me, as color plays a vital role in my work. Since the space is entirely different from the places I’ve exhibited before, I believe this contrast will create a fresh and engaging combination with my work.

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