The Artist © Suh Yongsun

Painter Suh Yongsun begins each day by painting a self-portrait in the morning. He prepares his paints at night and paints the portrait as if writing a diary. In the self-portrait, the artist is kneeling, painting as though in disciplined practice. The posture is almost combative, conveying serious reflection and persistence.
 
“To me, people are truly fascinating beings. The stories within them are inexhaustible.”
For Suh Yongsun, not only himself—his daily subject of observation—but also people in the streets and people in history all become important subjects of painting. His historical paintings and depictions of contemporary life, rendered with heavy brushstrokes and intense color, have made him a singular presence in the Korean art world. In recognition of this achievement, he was selected in 2009 as the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art’s ‘Artist of the Year’, one of the most prestigious honors in the Korean art scene.


Suh Yongsun, The Drawing Man, 2010, Acrylic on Korean paper, 96 x 62.5 cm © Suh Yongsun

Last March, around the time of his large solo exhibition at Hakgojae Gallery, I visited Suh’s studio located in a quiet village in Yangpyeong. Spring was gradually arriving in the spacious studio filled with the clear air of nature. The studio was packed with works that could not be fully shown in the exhibition as well as works still in progress. In 2008 he gave up, without hesitation, his professorship at Seoul National University—despite more than ten years remaining until retirement—out of a single-minded dedication to his work. He still believes it was the right decision.
 
In the studio was a painting in progress depicting the two principal figures of the 1905 Taft–Katsura Agreement. During a trip to the United States the previous year, he visited the home of President Roosevelt, where the so-called Taft–Katsura Agreement—providing a pretext for Japan’s intrusion into Korea—was made. It was a site where our history was manipulated by foreign powers. He believes parts of that historical situation have yet to be sufficiently clarified.

“Furthermore, I have continuous doubts about history. History is more than what is recorded in writing. I acknowledge the legitimacy of official history, but since history is made by people, subjective elements and unresolved problems inevitably exist. Dynastic history and the history of power are not everything. My concern is how to embrace the history of ordinary people living everyday lives.” This concern marks the starting point of Suh Yongsun’s painting.


Suh Yongsun, People’s Thought, 1991, Acrylic on canvas, 194 x 517 cm © Suh Yongsun

The first subject he immersed himself in was historical painting about King Danjong. In 1986, during a personally difficult period, he happened to visit Cheongnyeongpo, the place of Danjong’s exile, while traveling to calm his mind. The peaceful landscape contained the tragic story of Danjong, who was dethroned by his uncle King Sejo and died unjustly in exile. ‘The Diary of Prince Nosan’ series began there. Rather than merely depicting narratives based on official history, he overlays psychological conflict among historical figures surrounding the deposition with the observer’s own tension through various methods.

One work from the series, People’s Thought, stands out for its subjective interpretation absent from official records. The moral judgment of the people toward the usurper and their silent resentment are expressed in powerful colors—chilling for Sejo and for all usurpers of power. By psychologically actualizing history in the present, Suh’s historical painting gains significance in a Korean art tradition that otherwise lacks a strong lineage of historical painting beyond state-sponsored works.


Suh Yongsun, Gyeyunyeon01, 1992, Acrylic on canvas, 193.5 x 130 cm © Suh Yongsun

Suh says that in the early stages of his career he was more influenced by literature than by visual art.
 
“Isn’t literature ultimately all about people? At first I tried abstract minimal work, but I could not abandon the importance of relationships and stories.”
 
‘Relationships between people’ and ‘the importance of narrative’ are key concepts in understanding his work. Even his interest in history ultimately points toward humanity. “It feels as if relationships between people are everything. The positions, attitudes, speech habits, and expressions of people around me are fascinating. Sometimes when I take a taxi, I feel like recording all the life stories drivers tell.” The people he speaks of are us—living here and now.


Suh Yongsun, People Waiting Subway at 14th Street Station, 2010, Acrylic on canvas, 143.5 x 230.5 cm © Suh Yongsun

This interest in humanity originates in his unusual adolescence. Despite later becoming a Seoul National University professor, his youth was far from predictable. At the end of his second year of middle school his family went bankrupt, and seven family members moved into a single room in Jeongneung. Survival in the hillside neighborhood was not easy. Poverty drove children into the streets and toward delinquency. The years he spent with such friends were intense and painful. Study came second, and despite his mother’s expectations he repeatedly failed university entrance exams. After completing military service, he began art late and was eventually admitted to Seoul National University. Among model students raised in sheltered environments, he struggled to adapt—but through hardship he came to understand people more deeply.
 
His paintings of people waiting for buses, passengers in the subway, and street scenes observed from buses capture the expressions of our time as he has witnessed them.
 
“I paint, but I like this vivid process of thinking about people.”
 
At the Hakgojae Gallery exhibition he presented works painted during recent travels to New York and Berlin. Even there, his interest remained the diverse crowds encountered in subway stations and streets.


Suh Yongsun, Brandenburger Gate, 2006, Acrylic on linen, 400 x 500 cm © Suh Yongsun

His sincere affection for people also appears in another project, Drawing Cheoram. Begun in 2000 and continuing for over a decade, the project aims to preserve the former coal-mining town of Cheoram in Taebaek and transform it into an art district, modeled after Germany’s Ruhr coalfields turned cultural zone. For this, Suh and fellow painters still travel to Taebaek about every two months and organize exhibitions once or twice a year.

Asked whether the project has approached its dream, he replied: “We’ve done many activities, but the results appear indirectly. It’s a slow process in which a small number of people begin to understand the region’s uniqueness and awaken to culture.” Progress has been slow but real; parts of the abandoned mining town’s distinctive landscape have been preserved. With voluntary participation from residents, a new event is being planned this autumn. The unfamiliar artists who once came and went are now gradually understood by the local community.
 
During the interview, canvases for new works kept arriving at the studio. Asked what he wishes to pursue next, he said he wants to address historical issues such as division and the Korean War more deeply. This year he has solo exhibitions scheduled in Berlin and Osaka, and in Korea he is preparing an exhibition on Jirisan. While the mountain’s beautiful landscape will be the main theme, he also hopes to capture the stories contained in Jirisan, which both connects and divides the Yeongnam and Honam regions. It will be interesting to see how Jirisan—the nature that has shaped history—will appear on his canvas. He said: “There is still much to do. Too much to paint. Only time is lacking.”

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