Nakhee Sung, Climbing the ladder, © Gallery 2

The paintings of Nakhee Sung (b. 1971) are renowned for their exploration of an infinitely proliferating world of abstract forms. In each work, masses of color that transform into dots, lines, and planes emerge, dividing and occupying the canvas. Each elemental unit seems governed by an internal genetic protocol.

Her paintings can be appreciated much like pop music. To use an analogy: the first encounter calls for attention to the overall impression rather than analytical thought; the second follows the melody of the vocals; the third focuses on the guitar track; the fourth isolates the keyboard; the fifth attends to the bass line; and the sixth to percussion. Finally, one begins to discern when and how each channel attaches and detaches from the structure, and an understanding of the overall formal composition of the sound gradually takes shape.

The new works unveiled in her 7th solo exhibition 《Translation》 bear a peculiar quality. Titled Entrance, Leap, Settlement, Condensation, Outflow, Whirl, Resonance, Reverberation, and Tone, they serve as diagrams illustrating the contrapuntal foundation of Sung’s abstract painting practice—a microcosm of her painterly world that now explains itself through painting once again.

The artist sought to create “viewer-centered paintings.” Hence the title 《Translation》: to make her works more easily legible and interpretable, she presented them frontally, facing the viewer. “In the end, the paintings became remarkably flat,” she says.

This new phase of painting, begun in 2002, seems now to reach the close of its first act. The color-shapes—resembling primitive organisms—once born on paper, expanded restlessly across gallery walls and canvases alike. Now, they have evolved to the stage of self-reflection and self-explanation.

One key viewing point is gravity—both literal and pictorial. There is the real force of gravity, and then there is the gravitational (or magnetic) pull that operates virtually within the picture plane. Beyond the traces of paint that flow downward under real gravity, we can speculate about the multiple gravitational forces that acted on the work during its making. Through this, one experiences the painting as if it were rotating, lying flat on the ground, and then rising again on the wall to face “me”—a mysterious and intimate encounter between viewer and work.

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