Hong Kyoungtack, Pencil, 1998, oil on canvas, 259.1x581.7cm © Hong Kyoungtack

“I wanted to paint the world of our time as vividly and raw as it is, from religion to pornography.” The painter’s painter Van Gogh, Pope John Paul II, and the flamboyant dark-voiced pop singer Prince. A scene where figures that seem difficult to coexist at first glance are brought together—this is the world inside Hong Kyoungtack’s paintings. 

The exhibition held in a gallery in Hyehwa-dong in 2006 bore the unusual title 《Funkchestra》, a word combining funk, a genre of contemporary popular music, and orchestra, a symbol of classical music. Within its dazzlingly repetitive patterns appear not only figures of saints and aphorisms such as “Saengongjima,” but also nightclub DJs and lyrics from pop songs—an unexpected fusion. Hong Kyoungtack’s paintings reveal a new generational sensibility that has finally emerged in Korean art history. 

What first made Hong Kyoungtack known was his Pencil Drawing, densely filling a large canvas with pencils. The colorful pencils erupt like fountains or fireworks bursting into the sky. This powerful image immediately captivated young curators searching for new forms of painting. His Library Painting, with its surreal sensibility, and text-based paintings combining letters, images, and patterns firmly established the young artist as a promising figure in Korean art. 


Hong Kyoungtack, Gogh, 2005, Acrylic on linen, 162x130cm © Hong Kyoungtack

Contrary to the image one might imagine from his vividly colored paintings, Hong Kyoungtack appeared to be an unmistakably “model student.” His attire, neatly styled hair, and even his natural features conveyed this impression. Perhaps I had expected someone equally flamboyant as his paintings. Yet through conversation, I realized that the inner world of this “model student” was anything but ordinary. His world, where Van Gogh, Pope John Paul II, and Prince coexist, embraces both the sacred and the profane to construct a new realm.

As a child, he was a sensitive boy who felt compassion when witnessing the cruel pranks of other children. Though his life lacked major upheavals, he reacted keenly to the trivial contradictions and dissonances of the world that others might overlook. In this sense, he was born with a rather classical artistic sensibility. Now in his forties, he acknowledges the contradictions of life—the chaotic coexistence of churches nestled among clothing stores and bars. He expresses these contradictions through the sensibility of a generation raised on television, films, pop music, and the dazzling imagery of MTV. 

In his studio, music flows endlessly from an old Sanyo radio boasting years of use. One wall is filled with around 2,000 LP records and CDs he has collected since middle school. He lives immersed in music, turning it on as soon as he wakes and turning it off only before sleep. Invisible music drifts through the air and eventually settles into his paintings. The British techno group Pet Shop Boys’ song, with its provocative lyric “I love you, you pay my rent” and melancholic melody, satirizes modern love. By quoting these lyrics, he translated the song’s atmosphere into patterns and colors. 

The sensibility of the MTV generation is also evident in his other works. If the pencil drawings express an explosion of inner passion, the library paintings depict an inward, withdrawn, and secretive space. The books in his paintings are not meant to be read but function like bricks constructing a fortress. “I wanted to protect the microscopic and small world of the individual against the vastness of history.” He once explained his work in relation to Japanese otaku culture.

This generation, raised in nuclear families, enjoyed economic benefits, leaned toward individualism, and showed little interest in politics. Often described as a generation that lost its dreams, otaku instead display obsessive dedication to the objects of their interest, tracing them to their roots and creating their own microcosms. This becomes the driving force behind new youth culture. Platforms such as UCC, blogs, and mini-homepages serve as spaces where this generation operates. 


Hong Kyoungtack, Prince, 2005, Acrylic on linen, 162x130cm © Hong Kyoungtack

He lived his share as a recluse

With his lively sensibility, Hong Kyoungtack reveals the inner worlds of young people who retreat into themselves. Born in 1968, his ability to understand the sensibility of the otaku generation stems from the intensity of the 1980s when he was in university. “I believe that a recluse has his own role. I sometimes feel ashamed that I lived past the 1980s without engaging, and that I lived too personally, but I do not regret it. If everyone goes out to the square, who will fill the empty world left behind? Now, ten years later, I am fulfilling my role.” This recluse presents an alternative strategy, fulfilling his role in his own way. 

His paintings, armored with glossy plastic textures and dazzling fluorescent colors, contain meditations on the salvation of the world. Skulls, frequently appearing in his works, symbolize Golgotha, where Jesus met his end, and are accompanied by crosses and Christian iconography. In one painting, the artist supports a bookshelf densely packed with books to prevent it from collapsing.

One foot wears a military boot, which attempts to step on a doll with a snake’s tail symbolizing evil, yet the leg is tied with a string. It depicts the irony that even though good exists, evil cannot be eradicated. His works, which began with the intention of constructing an alternative world, thus develop into densely structured narratives. 

As a devout Catholic familiar with Christian iconography and adept at playfully quoting the traditions of Western art history, Western audiences often recognize his value more quickly. Beyond the striking imagery, his ability to construct such dense narratives distinguishes him in Korean art history and points to his vast potential. 

By focusing on his inner self, Hong Kyoungtack established his artistic world early on, shortening the many stages of trial that artists typically undergo. The pencil and library paintings that brought him recognition were, in fact, works he had been creating since university. Initially, these works received little response. Nevertheless, he continued painting while giving private art lessons and working part-time installing artworks.

It was young curators in search of new imagery who eventually recognized his work. Having held his first exhibition in 2000, he has since emerged as a blue-chip artist in the Korean art scene, attracting the attention of discerning collectors in the global art market, including auctions at Christie’s Hong Kong. 


Hong Kyoungtack, Library, 2004, oil on canvas, 162x130cm © Hong Kyoungtack

When asked to pose comfortably for an interview photograph, he crossed his arms over his chest. When asked what kind of pose it was, he shyly replied that it was a “cold and hungry pose.” To me, it resembled the posture of a curled-up fetus. Now entering his forties, he still retains the innocence of a shy youth, and the world seems to remain, for him, a place filled with longing, compassion, and traces of wounds. Perhaps an artist shines most beautifully when they are honest with themselves. 

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