Kim Choi Eun-young (Aesthetics)

It wasn’t simple. Charcoal, feet, wood, stars, water. Taken individually, these are objects that are easy to understand. Yet, as they pass through Huh Yun-hee’s artistic process, they become neither simple nor clear.

When encountering most contemporary visual artworks, the focal point is the artist’s concept—that is, what is in their mind. In this exhibition, however, it was the artist’s body that was visible: the act of wielding rough charcoal, erasing, refilling, applying force, pausing, and then unleashing a torrent of movement. I do not refer to “the artist’s hands” here because the accumulated lines and erased traces extend beyond the hands to the arms, shoulders, and waist- a range that can only be achieved by engaging the entire body. The body is a crucial element in art. Its importance extends beyond its role as an object; as suggested by the term “embodied realization” (體得), the realization of virtue (德 = 得) is derived from the body (體) rather than the mind (頭), as implied by the etymology of the word. Truth gained through the body is distinctly different from knowledge acquired through the mind. Huh Yun-hee’s paintings and the act of painting itself fully support this interpretation. The sight of feet becoming trees, and lines resembling blood vessels becoming the grain of the wood, is not grotesque but natural, as if such things have always existed. Moreover, the artist’s actions are preserved on the canvas as significant traces. The lines are flowing. These are not static, lifeless landscapes, but moving, living lines. That is why ‘Foot-Dance’ clearly appears to be a foot-dance. It is not as simple as individual feet or a dance, and while it cannot be clearly named as “something,” it is a visual language with which we can empathize.

The leaves, wildflowers, and unnamed birds that might have brushed past on a dry, sparse, and seemingly useless mountain path are imbued with profound emotion through the subtle hues and rough texture unique to charcoal, as well as the hazy effect revealed when erased. It feels fleeting and poignant. It is not lighthearted, but it is by no means a tragedy. Everything that once existed will vanish, just like charcoal. Yet, like the traces of charcoal that cannot be completely erased, it is a testament to existence.

‘Offering Flowers’, which explores the transience of life, and ‘Bird’, which dwells somewhere in hazy memories, are not beautifully refined or conform to standardized proportions. Yet they move the heart. Stirring the viewer’s thoughts. Evoking emotion. That is the role of art. Huh Yun-hee sought beauty in the non-beautiful, ordinary truths in absurd combinations, and the meaning of life in what is dry and decayed. This bears a striking resemblance to Su Shi’s (Su Dongpo) saying: “Outwardly withered but rich within; seemingly淡 yet actually浓; when splendor reaches its peak, it returns to simplicity.” As countless lines were repeatedly layered and erased, the artist must have cleansed his mind as if wiping the canvas. The story captured in its entirety in this way resonates deeply. How similar are the nature of this mural project-undertaken with the knowledge that it was destined to fade-and that of charcoal drawings, which are far removed from fame and financial gain? Amid today’s visual artworks that often demand admiration and emotional response, the artist’s dedication-in not easily abandoning charcoal, a simple and humble medium-must now be reciprocated with empathy.