Kim Whanki's words on art
By Kate Lim
Kim Whanki (1913-1974) is a preeminent modern painter of Korea whose signature dot paintings garnered an international reputation. During his stay in New York, he wrote in his diary on Oct. 8, 1973: “Art [Painting] is neither philosophy nor aesthetics. It is there just like the sky, the sea, mountains and rocks are there. Before the concept of the flower is born, even before the existence of name of the flower ― I think of these. Just a vague abstraction.” Kim wrote this same line of thought one more time on June 28, 1974, about a month before his sudden death: “Neither philosophy nor literature. Nothing but a painting.” Compared to the previous diary entry, his words were scarce and it felt like a monologue vibrating with reticent private belief.
Kim’s words on art typify the crisp verbal punch of the visual artist. The common joke-cum-knowledge among art people is “critics spend words and artists spare them,” because it is not through words but through the work they make that artists speak. In general artists are not excellent in verbally explaining their work. The words of an artist tend to be implicit or illogical, which are vulnerable to being dismissed by analytical words based on theories. All the same I often find the artist’s own language intriguing because it carries small epiphanies to be had in relation to art. At any rate, Kim’s abovementioned words on art may not be a welcome cup of tea to those who rely on profound philosophical observations or esoteric aesthetical theories for the explanation of a work of art. His remark will not be pleasing to those who interpret art as visual literacy, like a narrative to read with our eyes. Kim drew a line between art and three other disciplines.
Kim made an analogy between the existence of art and that of the sky, the sea, mountains and rocks, and straight after that, he mentioned the state before the conceptualization of the flower, sky or rocks were made. Critics consult Kim’s diary and essays since they are the only extant materials. The usual commentaries on his art and his thoughts on art lay emphasis on his deep love and reverence for nature. The essay titles such as “Formalization of Nature” or “Painter who Sang about Nature” or “Pursuing Nature” all indicate critics’ reading of his painting as a visual panegyric on nature. However, critics speak of this nature as the emblem of immortality and its anti-civilizational value, or highlight the spiritual affinity with nature in Eastern culture. Ironically, all of these are examples of conceptualization of nature, which is the exact opposite of Kim’s words. Kim clearly and unmistakably added, “Before the concept of the flower is born ― I think of these.”
I wince at these worn-out cliches used in conceptualizing nature. They sound like tiresome advertising jingles. Although Kim frequently expressed a longing for his hometown and idealized his old memories, it more reflects the painter’s melancholic attitude in general rather than his real artistic concern. I would be surprised if Kim Whanki had said he painted simply to express his homesickness or longing for the untainted wilderness of his hometown. Instead I read Kim’s words as his feelings toward the nameless and meaningless existence of nature and art. It is closer to the thought that nature is just there regardless of humans’ calling it magnificent or threatening. It is the autonomy of nature that makes her as it is. In a similar vein, Kim thinks of the state of artwork to be “before” it is interpreted and analyzed to convey a certain meaning. It seems to me that Kim wanted to paint that particular “state” prior to hypostatization and he might have felt that with the absence of a particular name or concept things could only look vague and undetermined.
I am tempted to draw inference from these words in his diary to shed light on Kim’s eventual shift toward total abandonment of figurative elements. He gradually moved to creating more abstract pictures from descriptive representations of a traditional jar, the moon, the sky, mountain ridges or flying birds in distinct outlines. Having Kim’s words in mind, we are still not given a presentation with finesse on the changing course of his work, but somehow they seep into our minds with ease and help us to understand it. Often the artist’s own raw words and intuitive observations that are in contact with the artist’s real-life experience offer us a window through which to better understand art. As the words come from the experience that has been lived by the artist, not from a theoretical construction outside of the art-making process, they are possessed of direct and persuasive power.
There is an undeniable feeling that we are inundated with comments and analyses spewed from the tip of the pen – or rather from the keyboard of the computer. As we know, the words of a pen are made up of independent artistry and they often override the artist’s words. In this light, how much we should respect the artist’s words as an intermediary between the maker and the viewer will be an enticing topic. By dwelling on the relevance between Kim’s own observations and his oeuvre, we might hit on a rich mine of truths in art.
Kate Lim is director of Art Platform Asia, an independent curator and art writer. Contact her at kate.yk.lim@gmail.com.