Artist’s Journal: Finding Stillnes
This essay reflects on my journey from a digital career in Seoul to my life as an artist in New Mexico. I share how trading digital screens for paints helped me discover a sense of profound stillness. Under the quiet desert moon, I moved away from a society that demanded ‘correct’ answers and began to find my own meaning.
Why I Traded the Digital World for the Stillness of New Mexico
I spent my early years in Seoul, immersed in digital creation, painting images that always demanded ‘correct’ answers. But in 2017, after letting everything go, I arrived in New Mexico. Something in me no longer leaned toward the work I had done before. The sky, once framed between buildings, was wider than I had ever imagined. Its endlessness, like an ocean above, began to change me. As a stranger in an unfamiliar land, I was drawn into a time of silence and stillness.
I no longer wanted to work digitally. Years of creating images with ‘correct’ answers had left me weary. I longed to pull something out from within myself, rather than following a set path. I wanted to create an original object that existed in the real world, something tangible that I could call my own. These would not be images with pre-defined answers, but paintings without them, just like life itself.
Why do gouache and acrylic become my new language of light?
The brilliant moonlight of New Mexico stirred my heart so deeply that I could wait no longer. I bought gouache paints for the first time. I had worked with watercolors, but their transparent nature could not contain the intensity of my feelings. Shortly after experimenting with gouache, I turned to acrylics, which allowed for more vivid expression. This was a new medium for me.
As I continued to work, I became aware of the environmental impact of acrylics. Yet, as someone in transition painting large moons in a small room, acrylics remain the most practical choice. It is a compromise with my current reality. Once fully settled, I intend to transition to eco-friendly materials. For now, I do my best to minimize my footprint: I never pour acrylic waste down the drain, opting to let it evaporate and wiping it away with paper. I also clean my brushes using only a water spray and paper.
What does my art offer to those at the edge?
My moon may not be the same as the one others see. But as my moon rises, I hope something similar rises in their hearts. For those standing at the edge of the world, and for the part of myself still standing there, this is a prayer and a gesture of encouragement.
