Inside the White Cube: Lee Jin Woo /
White Cube /
Hong Kong /
Jun 1 – Sep 7, 2024 /

Lee Jin Woo’s solo exhibition at Hong Kong’s White Cube Gallery, provides a rather distinctive, nearly spiritual experience, as we stare at his semi-sculptural, abstract paintings, created through the methodical, slow manipulation of paper and charcoal. Some of his works are in various shades of light blue, while others are in grey-black monochrome. They have been arranged at White Cube with the gallery’s signature spaciousness, leaving a whole wall for each work and fully drawing in the viewer. The paintings, with their monochrome stillness and the dynamic jagged surfaces, created by the way in which Lee manipulates paper and charcoal to create texture, seem to change constantly: if we look at the overall effect, we see an imaginary geological landscape, darker at the bottom, where the ground would be, gradually becoming more ethereal as we look at a dreamlike, sometimes ominous looking sky, pale blue or pale grey.

Lee, born in Seoul in 1959, moved to Paris in the 1980s, where he studied at the École des Beaux-Arts. In 1993, he moved back to South Korea, living in the mountains on the outskirts of Seoul, and then returned to Paris in 2005, where he still resides. 

Throughout his comings and goings between Korea and France, he has kept very near to an identifiable Korean tradition, both in the materials he uses and in the meditative roots of his practice. His paintings are made using Korean hanji paper, produced from mulberry trees, and charcoal, which he breaks and grinds, and mixes with adhesive. Then, he spreads the charcoal on linen, and covers it with the hanji, which he beats repeatedly with a metal brush, until the two materials are completely intertwined; each painting can take up to three months to finish. This process creates rough, textural surfaces, which are then mounted on a wooden support – a series of operations that effectively bridges the distance between a flat canvas and a sculptural work. Looking at the pieces on show at White Cube from the side, we can see the layers of hanji paper and charcoal overflowing out of the wooden support, standing out a few centimetres from it, as a finished work can require up to 30 layers of paper. 

The abstract pieces can recall mesmerising lunar landscapes or eerie, half-burned-out forests, something neither natural nor manmade but with strong connotations of both – valleys and furrows, in which light is absorbed, and what could be the remains of a destroyed civilisation. Something undefinable in these artworks seems to be staring back at us, questioningly, stirring a sense of unease and fascination. His use of a hard brush to imprint lines, waves or dots into the paper, the adhesive and the charcoal mixture adds yet more details that capture our gaze in search of all the shifts, dramatic and subtle, in the texture; and a strange awareness that unless we stare for many hours, we will never be able to grasp everything Lee has transposed onto these jagged surfaces. 

Lee’s approach to abstraction has its roots in the Korean Dansaekhwa movement, featuring now highly recognised artists such as Park Seo-bo and Lee Ufan, which engaged in abstract art by creating rhythmical and contemplative works with a careful and intentional brush, with meditative repetition playing an important role. In the same tradition, Lee’s work has nothing that is improvised or free-flowing: there is an attention, a concentration and a powerful determination in every inch of his paintings, which he describes precisely as a form of meditation where he “disappears” and becomes “an arm which paints”.

Also on show are a few calligraphic works, painted in light ink, which is something Lee says he does every day as soon as he enters his studio. Here, the calligraphy covers the whole sheet of paper, producing a result once again closer to abstract art than free-flowing calligraphy. In a manner akin to asemic poetry – which doesn’t use words to express meaning, but a rhythmic repetition of lines, colours and other interventions on paper that could look like script from afar, while really having no content – it leaves the viewer with a lingering feeling of being interrogated or, more likely, of interrogating themselves through these paintings.

While this is definitely not an eye-candy show, the opportunity it provides to come face to face with Lee Jin Woo’s work while just off some of Hong Kong’s busiest central streets makes it one the most unexpectedly contemplative experiences one can have – one that leaves a lasting desire for stillness and attention. 

Featured image: Installation view of Inside the White Cube: Lee Jin Woo, Hong Kong, 1 June – 7 September 2024. © the artist. Photo © White Cube (Kitmin Lee)

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Inside the White Cube: Lee Jin Woo
白立方畫廊
香港
2024年6月1日至9月7日

李鎮雨的個展「Inside the White Cube: Lee Jin Woo」在香港白立方畫廊舉行，為人帶來一種獨特、甚或稱得上是靈性的體驗。他以緩慢、有條不紊的方式處理紙張和木炭，創作出半雕塑形式的抽象畫作。他的部分作品以各種淺藍色調呈現，有些則以灰黑色單色調呈現。白立方畫廊以標誌性的寬敞空間佈展，每件作品都有一整面牆展示，完全吸引著參觀者的目光。李鎮雨憑藉對紙張和炭筆的控制為畫作創造紋理，單色調的靜止感和鋸齒狀表面的動態感不斷變化。從整體效果觀察，我們會看到一個虛構的地質景觀，底部較暗的部分是地面，向上可以看到夢幻、但或許會令人不安的淺藍或淺灰色天空，從下而上看逐漸變得更加超脫。

李鎮雨1959年生於首爾，80年代移居巴黎，入讀巴黎美術學院。1993年回流韓國，居於首爾郊外的山區。2005年重返巴黎，其後一直居住至今。

在來往韓法兩地的過程中，他一直與可辨認的韓國傳統保持著密切的聯繫，無論是在使用材料，還是在藝術實踐中的冥想意義方面。他作畫時會使用由桑樹製成的韓紙和炭筆，將炭筆打碎、研磨，與膠水混合，然後塗抹在麻布上，蓋上韓紙，再用鐵刷反覆敲打，直到兩種材料完全交織在一起，每幅畫需要長達三個月才能完成。他透過這個過程製作出粗糙、有紋理的表面，然後再將畫布安裝在木架上，這一系列的動作將平面畫布和雕塑作品之間的距離拉近。如果從側面觀察白立方畫廊展出的作品，我們可以看到韓紙和炭筆的堆積物從木架中突出了幾厘米，因為一件成品可能需要多達30層紙。

這些抽象的作品讓人聯想起迷人的月球表面，或詭異、半燒毀的森林，不完全天然，但也不是人造的，如同摧毀文明後所遺下的昏暗山谷和溝壑。這些藝術品中有些難以名狀的東西帶著疑惑的目光看著我們，引起一種不安和著迷的感覺。藝術家用硬刷將線條、波浪或圓點印在紙張、膠水和炭筆混合物上，增添更多細節吸引我們尋找紋理中所有誇張和微妙的變化。我們會奇怪地意識到，除非不斷凝視作品數小時，否則我們永遠無法了解李鎮雨在這些鋸齒狀表面上呈現的所有概念。

李鎮雨對抽象的理解源於韓國單色畫運動，運動的代表人物包括廣受認可的藝術家朴栖甫和李禹煥，他們以謹慎而具意識的筆觸創造出富節奏感和沉思性的作品，反覆的冥想在當中發揮著重要的作用。李鎮雨來自相同的傳統，他的作品沒有任何即興或自由流動的元素。每幅畫都體現著注意力、專注力和強大的決心，他精確地形容這是一種「消失」並變成「一隻畫畫的手臂」的冥想狀態。

展覽還展出了幾件用淡墨書寫的書法作品，李鎮雨說他每天一進入工作室就會寫書法。在這些作品中，書法覆蓋了整張紙，再次創作出一種接近抽象藝術而不是自由書法的作品。他以一種類似無文字詩歌的方式創作，不使用文字來達意，而是隨節奏在紙上重複線條和顏色等。作品從遠處看起來像文字，但實際上卻沒有任何內容，參觀者會有一種被這些畫作質問，或要透過畫作質問自己的感覺縈繞在心頭。

這場展覽絕對不是最養眼的一場，但它讓人有機會在全港其中一個最繁忙的地區與李鎮雨的作品見面，打造了最出乎意料的冥想體驗，讓人對平靜和專注產生渴求。