Artist Kim Yun Shin continues her work with the chainsaw, even today.
“Kim Yun Shin: why has her work been off our radar until now?” marveled art insiders at her solo exhibition at the Seoul Museum of Art titled “Kim Yunshin: Towards Oneness”. Although Kim has been an active figure in the South American art scene for over four decades, her presence in Korea was limited to several smaller exhibitions. It was not until this museum showcase that her profound artistic contributions were fully acknowledged. This landmark retrospective not only catalyzed global buzz but also earned her an invitation to the prestigious Venice Biennale’s main exhibition, <Foreigners Everywhere>. Following this acclaim, she secured exclusive contracts with Korea’s Kukje Gallery and the U.S.-based Lehmann Maupin Gallery. Touched by the overwhelming response, Kim decided to relocate her life’s work to Korea. Currently, she is holding solo exhibitions titled “Letters from Argentina” at the Lee Ungno Museum and <ZIP> at the ARKO Art Center. With her 90th birthday and 70th art career anniversary approaching, we met with Kim in her Paju studio.
Could you update us on your recent activities? I understand that all your belongings have now successfully arrived from Argentina.
The moving process was incredibly challenging. It was my first time organizing and packing 40 years of personal belongings and artworks, necessitating several containers. Exporting art from Argentina is particularly difficult, adding an emotional strain to the logistics. I began packing in mid-October 2023, but it wasn’t until mid-February 2024 that I finally set off for Seoul. Leaving a place I had called home for four decades was bittersweet, but the thought of returning to my homeland eased the transition. I’ve lived by the philosophy that “home is where you make it,” yet realizing I can no longer reside there stirred up complex emotions. Given my dislike of the cold, I find solace in planning to spend winters working in Argentina, where the seasons are reversed from Korea. In preparation for my departure, I organized the Kim Yun Shin Museum and left my house ready for any return visits. My deep connection to the museum remains, though that hectic period left little time for nostalgia. I’ve recently established a new studio in Paju, but it’s not quite settled yet. I’m still in the midst of organizing it and preparing for exhibitions, having temporarily stored everything in a storeroom for later review. The studio, a renovated glass building, is thoughtfully divided into dedicated spaces for painting and sculpting.
You’re working on your painting and sculpture projects today. It’s wonderful to hear that these works have gained international acclaim.
Recently, many of my works have been featured in major exhibitions, such as the Venice Biennale, Lee Ungno Museum in Daejeon, and ARKO Art Center in Seoul, leaving my studio feeling quite empty. This emptiness has motivated me to accelerate my production. Even while waiting for the photography team today, I felt the urge to continue working. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, when I was confined to my studio, it became difficult to source new wood, prompting me to start painting on wood sculptures. However, preserving Korean wood proved challenging, so I’ve recently transitioned to working with bronze as well. While bronze sculptures can be replicated through repeated casting, I hand-paint each one, making every piece uniquely distinct. Although they share the same form, each one looks visually different. I find the varying colors across the works intriguing, and it’s exciting to work freely like this. Unlike wood, bronze has a dry surface that requires frequent repainting. I had dabbled in this type of painting and sculpture when I was younger, but it was only during the pandemic, when I couldn’t freely go outside, that I began to seriously pick up leftover wood from construction and engage deeply with this form of art.
I’m saddened by the recent closure of the Kim Yun Shin Museum in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
It was a challenging journey to manage it for 15 years starting from scratch. Although the museum no longer exists, the Sala Kim Yun Shin, which I established in 2018 at the Korean Cultural Center in Argentina, remains. I’ve donated some of my best works there, and it hosts permanent exhibitions; if you ever visit Argentina, please stop by. The Argentine cultural scene recognizes me as a diligent artist who also ran a museum. After my invitation to the Venice Biennale was announced, there was a flood of interview requests, but, due to an embargo, I couldn’t give any interviews until the day I left Argentina. However, I was grateful for the extensive coverage and interest shown in my work even in my absence.
Every November, during La Noche de Los Museos (Museum Night) our Kim Yun Shin Museum showcased its most prized pieces. We hosted Korean traditional percussion performances, and about 800 to 900 people visited the museum daily. Although the event lasted until 6 a.m., with free city bus rides available, we often had to close around 3 or 4 a.m. due to exhaustion [laughs]. Despite the challenge, it’s a fond memory that I cherish.
The solo exhibition <Towards Oneness> held at the Nam-Seoul Museum of Art in 2023 was truly beautiful. This exhibition led to your invitation to the Venice Biennale, correct?
Yes, that’s correct. A few years ago, I had exhibitions at the Hanwon Museum of Art and the Whitewave Art Center. During those events, I had the opportunity to meet Kim Hong-hee, the former director of the Seoul Museum of Art, who asked if I could donate some works to the museum, which led to our collaboration. She suggested holding an exhibition at the Seoul Museum of Art Seosomun Main Branch, but I was planning to return to Argentina shortly and didn’t have time to wait. Since the Nam-Seoul Museum of Art I visited with my students also had great spaces, I proposed having the exhibition there as soon as possible. Fortunately, a permanent exhibition space for sculptor Kwon Jin Kyu was being planned already, so we hurried to schedule my exhibition before that. Luckily, I had previously exhibited at several galleries, so many of my works were still in Korea [laughs]. Works remained at Gallery Banditrazos, Park Ryu Sook Gallery, and DongA Gallery, and some works from the 1970s and 1980s were even at a friend’s home. While my previous gallery exhibitions focused on new works, the Seoul Museum of Art exhibition became a retrospective. It was special to be able to see my past works all in one place.
After this well-received exhibition, you were invited to the Venice Biennale. Could you tell us more about that?
In July 2023, a text message from an unknown number was sent to Kim Ran, the director of the Kim Yun Shin Museum, in the middle of the night, which is common in Argentina. Still half-asleep, I saw the message from her was an invitation to the Venice Biennale and initially thought it was spam [laughs]. However, I responded, requesting further details via email, and researched the sender’s name. It turned out to be Adriano Pedrosa, the director of the Venice Biennale. Realizing the importance, I immediately got up to participate in a conversation. He mentioned that he had visited Korea in early May, shortly after my exhibition at the Nam-Seoul Museum of Art ended on May 7. He had been recommended my show by everyone he met at the Gwangju Biennale and felt it resonated perfectly with the theme of “Foreigners Everywhere,” prompting him to extend the invitation. Unfortunately, I had missed his initial email among the many I received and inadvertently deleted it, nearly costing me the chance to participate in the Biennale!
The Venice Biennale runs until November. After visiting, did you experience any new changes or inspiration?
I arrived in Venice on April 13 and immediately inspected the exhibition site. Adriano Pedrosa greeted me warmly, and meeting him in person after so many online communications was a delight. I was delighted at the prominent placement of my works.
I also met with fellow artist Lee Kang Seung, who was invited to the same exhibition. Staying in Venice for six days was particularly meaningful as it was my first visit to a biennale where my works were exhibited; I could only send my works to the 1974 São Paulo Biennial due to lecture commitments.
The Venice Biennale venue itself is architecturally beautiful and vast in scale. I was impressed by how the artworks, including mine, were curated to share themes, which enhanced their impact. I saw works by Kay WalkingStick, an Indigenous American artist, Avef el Rayess from Lebanon, and Austrian artist Leopold Strobl. Like me, they drew inspiration from natural settings. Viewing the balanced arrangement of various artists’ works allowed me to reflect on how my pieces resonated within this grand setting, reminding me of the long path still ahead in my artistic journey. While I realize that I may never reach perfection, I am determined to leave behind works that firmly convey the world of Kim Yun Shin. The harmonious integration of my sculptures with other artists’ paintings reinforced the importance of sculptural works in three-dimensional space, as opposed to purely architectural or flat aspects. Sculpture offers a different dimension to space than painting. Although I chose sculpture, few artists persist with it until the end. I aim to reflect my spirit in my works, setting an example for younger artists. The true challenge is maintaining that concentration. When I focus my mind, it’s essential that my soul is truly present in the work. However, I sometimes worry whether I can maintain that level of engagement. As I’ve aged, my legs have become painful, leading me to spend more time working while seated.
Regarding the eight pieces you submitted to the Venice Biennale, it’s mentioned that the artistic director personally selected them from your Seoul Museum of Art exhibition. Did you hear about the criteria used for their selection?
No, I didn’t inquire about the specific criteria used to select the eight pieces, given that they were created in different times and places. However, my students believe the artistic director chose works that best capture the essence of nature without altering its inherent beauty — such as sculptures resembling wood on the verge of peeling or those with hollowed centers due to decay. The selection appeared to favor pieces that preserve the untouched beauty of nature, transformed subtly by the artist’s hand. It seems the pieces were selected for their ability to elevate nature into art without opposing its essence. The chosen works simply accentuate natural elements in their raw forms, preserving and highlighting parts just as nature intended. They achieve the highest aesthetic of form by appearing as if sculpted by nature itself, not merely by human effort. These are not just decorative pieces, but creations that represent a harmony between nature and the artist’s intervention. The works of other artists in the exhibition also seemed to transport elements of nature into the gallery space.
As you approach your ninetieth birthday, do you continue to use a chainsaw for your sculptures?
Yes, absolutely. I’ve often been featured in the media as a female sculptor who uses a chainsaw, and I continue this practice in my new studio. I first began using a chainsaw during a trip to Argentina. While there, I had to quickly prepare for an exhibition at the suggestion of Roberto del Villano, the director of the Buenos Aires Contemporary Art Museum. This led me to collect and cut wood from the streets, which is how I started using a chainsaw. Before that trip, I wasn’t even aware that chainsaws were used in sculpture. After completing a solo exhibition with locally made works, I ended up with a backlog of exhibitions that prevented my return to Korea for three years. I could have comfortably continued teaching at a university in Korea, but I wanted to overcome challenges and pursue my career as an artist. The university was willing to wait for my return for those three years, but ongoing exhibitions extended my stay in South America to forty years. In retrospect, embracing the artist’s path has been fulfilling. I’ve been fortunate to continue my work with support from communities in both Argentina and Korea.
I’m still setting up my new studio and planning to dive back into sculpting, which I hope will bring some stability. It’s unfortunate that my workspace is now separate from my home, unlike in Argentina where I could work and showcase my pieces to visitors at any hour. The flexibility to work or rest at any time was a significant advantage. Nowadays it’s challenging to rise early, and my leg pain is a constant concern. Despite treatments from a Korean traditional medicine clinic, relief is hard to come by.
You had plans to live out your life in Argentina, presumably due to the presence of the Kim Yun Shin Museum. It’s wonderful that an invitation to the Venice Biennale has led you to settle in Korea instead. Could you share more about that decision?
Yes, I had actually prepared a final resting place in Argentina about 20 years ago. However, the challenge of deciding what to do with my extensive collection of artworks was always a concern, especially considering the complexities involved in donating them in either Argentina or Korea. As I grew older and travel became more difficult, I chose to spend one last year in Korea in 2022—to revisit beloved places, meet old friends, and indulge in favorite foods. My return in May coincided with significant opportunities, such as exhibitions at the Seoul Museum of Art and the Venice Biennale, which ultimately persuaded me to spend my final years here. After the Seoul exhibition, I desired to stay longer but lacked a suitable residence. Fortunately, I secured a year-long stay at the Park Soo Keun Museum residency in Yanggu, Gangwon-do. Yanggu reminds me of my childhood town, Anbyeon, near Wonsan. Anbyeon was well-known for apples, and I recall cherished memories of watching foreigners paint there during the Japanese occupation. The residency, primarily intended for painting, led me to borrow a space from a National Forestry Cooperative Federation for my sculptural work. Fortunately, it wasn’t a busy period for the cooperative, so I was able to use the space freely. Considering my age and the use of a chainsaw in my work, the cooperative kindly installed CCTV as a precaution to ensure my safety.
You’ve recently launched the <Letters from Argentina> exhibition at the Lee Ungno Museum in Daejeon. Could you tell us more about that?
The exhibition marks a continuation of my lifelong relationship with Lee Ungno, whom I met at Hongik University. We became close when I entered the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Paris in 1964, where he was actively involved. He once advised me, “Only visit good galleries and see good works.” This advice deeply resonated with me, emphasizing the importance of truly experiencing Paris. Lee was instrumental in founding The Academy of Oriental Painting at the Cernuschi Museum in Paris, alongside artists like Pierre Soulages, Zao Wou-ki, and Chang Daichien. I often visited his home to exchange ideas and sculpture techniques, which I taught him for about a year. I advised him to prepare rasps, chisels, and hammers. He brought chestnut wood from the surrounding area, which is a particularly difficult material to work with and carve. Although our meetings became less frequent over time, having this exhibition at the Lee Ungno Museum feels incredibly meaningful. The exhibition features large sculptures that I’ve cherished and wanted to keep, alongside prints and paintings from various phases of my career, including etchings made during my time in Paris and some of my most recent works. The exhibition will run until September 22, and I warmly invite everyone interested to come and see it.
I was particularly captivated by the exhibition <ZIP> at ARKO Art Center in Seoul, which showcased the works of 16 female sculptors, from established artists like yourself to second-generation women artists. What was your experience of this exhibition?
I’ve noticed that contemporary artists are experimenting with materials that have unique properties. I wanted to contribute something new using these innovative materials, but time constraints led me to submit earlier works, which was somewhat disappointing. During the opening ceremony, I was asked to offer some advice as a senior artist. I emphasized that while material properties are important, the essence of art lies in imbuing those materials with the artist’s spirit. It’s essential not to focus solely on the physical attributes of materials but to ensure they convey the deeper intent of the artist. This, to me, is the true nature of art. The material itself is secondary; what matters is how effectively an artist can express their vision through it. Young artists today are incredibly intuitive and quick in stark contrast to the slower pace I became accustomed to in Argentina. Being back in Korea has invigorated my spirit. Keeping up can be challenging, but it provides a valuable opportunity for deeper reflection. The exhibition, which includes works by Park Yoon-ja, Hahn Ae-Kyu, Roh Si-Eun, Kim Joohyun, Shin Meekyoung, Roh Jinah, Chung Soyoung, Chung Munkyung, Cho Omyo, Jo Hyejin, Kim Taeyeon, Lee Leap, Seo Hyeyeon, Hong Khia, and Park So Yeon, runs until September 8.
The exhibition at ARKO Art Center showcased the evolution of female sculptors in Korea, from past to present. It prompted reflection on the stereotype that sculpting, often considered physically demanding, favors male artists. Could you share your thoughts on this matter?
As an artist, I believe there’s no need to distinguish between male and female creators. Yes, men may naturally possess more physical strength, but the gender of an artist should not define the work’s perception. Even with identical axe cuts or sawing, differences between genders exist, and the outcomes cannot be exactly the same. Each artist, regardless of gender, should strive to leverage their unique strengths. Women may infuse their creations with delicacy and warmth, while men might approach their work with boldness and intensity. However, men are equally capable of producing delicate work. Ultimately, I see little difference in the outcome based on gender. I founded the Korean Sculptress Association, which is approaching its 50th anniversary, as a platform rather than a label. The focus should be on an artist’s ability to persist and excel, regardless of gender. In art, what truly matters is the quality and intent of a work, not the gender of the person who created it.
You’ve mentioned that both painting and sculpting are central to your artistic expression. Would you say sculpture defines the essence of your work? How do you prefer to be identified—as a sculptor or as an artist?
The label under which I operate is irrelevant. While my formal training is in sculpture and printmaking, I do not confine myself to these categories. People often inquire whether I am a sculptor, painter, or printmaker, curious about my primary discipline, but I find such distinctions unnecessary. What’s crucial is the impact of my work in the art world and its reflection of my deepest efforts as an artist.
Could you describe your process when working on sculptures?
I begin sculpting without preconceptions, feeling my way through the process. Earlier in my career, I would sketch, draw, and model with clay, but, as I matured artistically, I found these steps unnecessary. Now I focus on becoming one with the material, letting my insights into its inner qualities guide my work. Once a piece is completed, it often reveals unexpected results, which is true for both wood and canvas. In my studio I leave canvases and logs just as they are, some lying down, others standing up. I spend a lot of time just observing and pondering over them. I smell the wood, examine it closely, and touch it to establish a connection. Only after this deep interaction do I begin to work, and sometimes a piece may be completed in just a day. This process allows me to fully absorb the essence of the materials and pour that into my creations.
Does your approach to sculpture resemble Michelangelo’s, where he claimed to see the angel in the marble and carved until he could set it free?
While there are similarities, my approach differs significantly. Michelangelo might have seen an explicit form within the marble. In contrast, I do not search for a specific shape within the material; instead, I let what’s outwardly visible remain and enhance its inherent qualities. I work by observing the differences between the inner and outer characteristics of the material. The act of carving allows me to delve deeper into the material’s inherent properties. Others may think I work haphazardly, but for me these are crucial processes.
What kind of energy have you gained from your long stay in South America? How have South American culture and history influenced your artistic world?
The influence of South America on my work is subtle. Living there has permeated my art, much like my Korean heritage inherently shapes my expressions. For instance, I found that the primary colors used by Bolivian locals and indigenous peoples of the area align with what I had considered uniquely Korean hues. This cultural osmosis also occurred after my studies in Paris, where observers noted Parisian influences in my color palette.
What message do you hope to convey to the viewers of your artwork?
I don’t provide explanations for my artwork because it is completed by the viewer. Everyone experiences a piece differently. The message of the artwork, therefore, lies in each viewer’s perception. I hope they take away something to reflect upon, rather than just passing by. Even though my work contains my emotions and intentions, it is interpreted based on each viewer’s personal circumstances and interests. Titles might guide perceptions, but each viewer ultimately shapes their own interpretation and conclusions. Since my work is abstract rather than representational, it invites discovery and embodies the allure of abstraction.
Why do you explore using various materials like wood, bronze, semi-precious stones, and canvas?
Exploring new materials is a fundamental aspect of being an artist. If one material inspires me, it’s natural to explore others to continue evolving. This requires an attitude of experimentation. There’s no time to remain idle; if an idea strikes me, I act on it immediately or jot it down for later. Ideas fade with time, so urgency is crucial. I’ve devoted my life solely to my art, eschewing personal commitments like marriage or children, demanding total dedication to my craft. Despite several health scares, I’ve been fortunate to overcome them with support from friends and family. I don’t view these challenges as crises. I’m grateful for the continued care from my foster daughters, who were once my students and now play a significant role in my life. I recall a childhood memory of trying to wake up my grandmother one morning, only to find that she wouldn’t.
Could you share your future plans?
For 2025, marking my 90th birthday and 70 years in my art career, my immediate goal is to complete the new projects I’ve begun in my studio. I sculpt by day and paint at night. With my 90th year approaching, I’m aware of the preciousness of time—today I’m healthy, but the future is uncertain. I aim to work diligently while my mind is clear.
This year at Kiaf SEOUL, I’m presenting a solo booth through Kukje Gallery. In 2025, I plan an exhibition at the Lehmann Maupin Gallery in London, showcasing both my earlier and recent works. I’m also planning an exhibition in another museum, the details of which I will share later. Additionally, I will participate in a joint exhibition at Gallery Banditrazos with 22 of my students, celebrating my 90th birthday under the provisional title “Kim Yun Shin and Her Artistic Descendants”. We also plan to publish a book commemorating this legacy.
You’ve previously mentioned wanting to be an artist remembered by history. Do you still feel the same way?
As I approach my 70th year in the art world, I’m beginning to grasp its depths. With the constant changes of the present, my hope is that future generations will remember that someone like me contributed meaningful works to this era. Encouraging the next generation to maintain a strong artistic spirit is what I see as my duty as a senior artist.
