‘’내 작품 오십 점의 발자취” 2020
다작의 작가가 아닌 그는, 육십 고개를 들어서며 자신이 가장 아끼는 작품 50 점을 추려, 그 작품들에 얽힌 사연들을 차례로 글로 적어 옮긴다. 그는 , '쓰다보면 내가 기억을 작품에 담은건지, 담는건지, 기억이 내 작업이 되는건지 어떤땐 뭐가뭔지 뭘하고 있는지 헛갈리지만, 삶속의 숱한 기억들을 글로 적어 옮기는 일은, 정말 많은것을 새로 배우고 다시 깨닫게하는 시간이며, 여태 모르고있는 나를 발견하기도하는, 무엇보다 생각을 정리할수있는 좋은 기회 ‘ 라고 그는 말한다
- 커멘트2020
REVIEWS & CRITICS
‘ Searching for "Ina kwon’s 50 works"
behind stories’
Searching for "Ina kwon’s 50 works"
behind stories’ 2020
Her works are strange, difficult to approach. The artist even feels sorry when someone stands in front of his works. As she didn’t produce many, she decides to choose about 50 of her significant works, and from that,she begins to write the stories around each work.
"...When I start a new work, I always think,'This will be my last one' then I swear to my self that I’ll make the best things I’ve never done before…extrait of his, 2020
Abbé
신부 oil, 110x110cm 2006
여기도 얼굴 , 저기도 얼굴 , 내 눈에 보이는 건 오직 얼굴 뿐 , 얼굴은 가는 곳 마다 나를 따라 다닌다 , 구겨진 종이 , 깨진 석고 조각 , 어둠속 , 땅속 , 물속 , 꿈속, 어딜가도 항상 얼굴이 있다 , 칙칙한 캠퍼스에 희미한 붓자국이 보인다 , 저 안에도 얼굴이 있다 , 저 얼굴 뒤에도 또 얼굴이 있다 , 얼굴 안에 얼굴이 , 얼굴 뒤에 또 얼굴이 , 수 많은 얼굴들이 내 눈 앞을 잇따라 지나간다
나는 다시 덧칠을 해갔다
천천히 얼굴이 나온다 , 뿌연 원 속에 누군가가 보인다 , 상이 조금 흐리다 , 초상은 눈을 반쯤 뜨고 멀리서 보아야 한다 ,초상은 뒤로 물러나 볼수록 더 또렷이 보인다 , 저게 누구인가 ? 누가 저건가 ? 얼굴을 많이 만드는 사람은 마음에 상처가 있는 사람들이라 한다 , 그럴 지도 모른다 , 어쩌면 그 상처가 얼굴을 만들게 하는 지도 모른다ㅡ가슴에 든 '멍', 그 멍의 '표적'을 남기기 위해 ... 초상속의 얼굴은 가만히 보면 말을 한다,잘 살펴보면 , 그 안의 손도 그리고 또 눈도 뭐라고 말을한다, 초상은 그래서 '눈 '말고 '귀' 로 들으라 말하나 보다 ........
권 이나 에세이 '신부' 중에서
Villejuif 2018
Un visage par ici un visage par là, je vois toujours des visages. Les visages me suivent partout où je vais... un jour, j’étais en train de terminer une toile dans laquelle je peignais une forêt, puis tout d’un coup apparait un cercle, et je voyais une figure dedans et ce visage cachait plusieurs visages en plus, un derrière un autre devant, là- dessus, des milliers de yeux me regardaient avec les regards intenses comme si ils me parlaient ...
… je continue de tartiner des couleurs ... il y a quelqu’un dans ce cercle pas clair, effacé, comme dans un brouillard... je me suis éloigné quelques pas en arrière. Un portrait ou une statuette, on voit mieux éloigné, de loin… qui est t-il ? il est qui ?……….on dit que ceux qui travaillent beaucoup le visage sont ceux qui ont une douleur dans le cœur. Peut-être cette douleur qui les fait créer le visage... pour marquer sa plaie... ce qui fait dire que « un portrait, il faut l’écouter… écouter au lieu de regarder. »
« Abbe Pierre, extrait de essai. 신부 Le Prêtre » 2016
A face here, a face there, I still see faces. Faces follow me everywhere I go ... one day I was finishing a canvas in which I was painting a forest, then all of a sudden a circle appeared, and I saw a figure in it and this face was hiding several more faces, one behind another in front, on top of that, thousands of eyes were looking at me with intense looks as if they were talking to me ... ... I continue to spread colors ... there is someone in this unclear, erased circle, as in a fog ... I took a few steps back. A portrait or a statuette, we can see more distant, from afar… who is he? Who is he? ………. it is said that those who work the face a lot are those who have a pain in the heart. Perhaps this pain which makes them create the face ... to mark his wound ... which means that "a portrait, you have to listen to it ... listen instead of looking. "
“Abbe Pierre, extract from an essay, The Priest ” 2016
« ABBE » Critic kim hyangnam -priest -oil 110/110. 2006
Le portrait de Abbé Pierre
-amour des nus et des affamés, a été achevé de cette manière....abr...
le portrait a une lumière qui revient comme si elle sortait d'une pierre mais la lumière ne rebondit jamais la forme des yeux du nez et la bouche éclairée dans le faible contours ,et elle est humaine ,humaine comme si ils avaient toutes les expressions du monde mais solennel ..l'auteur pouvait laimer sans jamais l avoir croisée rien qu'en écoutant sa voix qui sort de la radio ..L'artiste a sculpté un 'visage'dans le paysage ...devant le portrait,l'artiste entend à nouveau sa voix,cet 'être humain ' qui recommence à parler,sa voix ,nous est maintenant entendu..
essaie ´Abbé ´2016 Titre 'Abbé ´(신부)
Portrait of Abbé Pierre
Love of the naked and the hungry_was completed in this way ..the portrait has a light that returns as if it came out of a stone but the light never bounces the shape of the eyes from the nose and the mouth lit in the faint outlines, and it is human, human as if they have all the expressions of the world but solemn .. the author could love it without ever having crossed it just by listening to his voice coming out of the radio .. The artist sculpted a 'face' in the landscape ... in front of the portrait, the 'artist hears his ‘voice’ again, this' Human Being' who begins to speak again, his voice, is now heard .
Critic Kim Hyang- nam ´Abbé ´2018
The “PRIEST”
…… The owner of a thoughtful and gentle spirit is appearing, shaking like a lamp. From the title, she may have been the priest who attended the church. Perhaps this is the scene that she wants to see from the face of a religious man called a ‘Priest’. Isn't it the priest's face?.....
Pak Yung-Tak extrait in”figures”
PIANIST
...Tout à coup, mes yeux sont tirés vers le haut par une étrange force, qui tire ma tête en arrière, toujours plus en arrière... J'essaie de résister de toutes mes forces, en vain... Mon corps sans défense est aspiré vers un trou noir, noir de silence dans un espace infini, lentement... Je vois un plafond blanc... Je regarde autour de moi... Mon corps est allongé par terre ... Pourquoi ? Que s'est-il passé ? Où suis-je ? Je suis où? C'est où ici?... Un bruit lointain, comme un écho, résonne au fond de mes oreilles... J'entends une voix... Quelqu'un m'appelle... Savez-vous ce que c'est de ne rien se souvenir? Savez-vous ce que c'est cette sensation, de vous réveiller, en ouvrant les yeux, après un profond sommeil, et de ne rien reconnaître? De la lumière, de l'odeur, du son, de tout ce qui vous entoure, de ne plus vous rappeler de rien ? A cet instant, vous êtes un étranger, un inconnu à vous même... Avez-vous jamais ressenti à un moment l'enfer, l'anxiété extrême, où vous vous retrouvez perdu, avec la peur des regards des gens, l'humiliation, un moment de désespoir...............
Extrait de l'essai ´Pianiste´ - 2016
Peindre la détresse de l’âme
D’une critique de Kim Jong-geun (critique d’art, prof. assistant à l’Université Sookmyung, Seoul)
« Sans les affres de l’âme et la souffrance du corps, ma vie aurait été prise dans la tourmente de l’océan comme un navire sans guide… » Ces mots d’Edvard Munch disent bien comment il a vécu et créé toute sa vie dans l’épouvante et la hantise de la maladie, dans les ombres de la mort. Vivant en France et peu connue dans son pays, la vie de l’artiste coréenne Ina Kwon est à l’image de celle de Munch. Il suffit de voir ses peintures, plus retenues, subtiles et féminines, certes, mais infuses des mêmes tourments et angoisses qui demandent d’être exprimés. La création, selon ses propres mots, est quelque chose d’envahissant, de fatal, nécessaire et pressant… Affligée dès son adolescence d’un mal incurable, Ina s’est vue contrainte d’abandonner une carrière pourtant prometteuse de pianiste. Le sort l’a fait tourner alors vers les arts plastiques, et la chance a voulu qu’elle soit prise sous l’aile de son vieil oncle paternel, le sculpteur Kwon Jin-kyu, dans l’atelier de qui la jeune collégienne a pris goût à malaxer l’argile et à voir surgir de ses doigts la figure en rond…
Painting the distress of the soul
“Without the anguish of the soul and the torment of the body, my life would have been like a vessel without a helmsman, at the mercy of the stormy sea…”
Edvard Munch’s words tell all too well how he lived and worked all his life in fear and dread of sickness, of impending death. Living abroad, in France, little known in her motherland, the life of the Korean artist Ina Kwon is not unlike [that of the Norwegian artist] Munch’s. It’s enough to contemplate her paintings, more restrained, subtle, delicate and tender to be sure, but infused with the same distress and anxiety that loom on the surface. Creation, she says, is intrusive, demanding, inevitable, compelling… Afflicted since the onset of puberty with an incurable disease, Ina couldn’t but renounce a promising future as a pianist. Fate made her turn to the plastic arts and chance would have it that her old paternal uncle, the sculptor Kwon Jin-kyu, took her under his wing. In his studio, following her natural inclination, the college girl and budding artist quickly developed a taste for fashioning clay, for creating space and shape in the round…
From an appreciation by Kim Jong-geun (art critic, adjunct professor at Sookmyung Women’s University, Seoul)
힘없이 빨려 들어간다 머리채를 잡힌채 뒤로 또 뒤로 아주 천천히 말이 없는 깜깜한 구멍속으로 ...여기가 어딘가 내가 왜 여기 있나 무슨 일이 있었나 지금이 언제인가 눈을 굴려서 주위를 살핀다.
쓰러져 있는 내 몸뚱아리...
..........어디서 누가 자꾸 나를 부른다 ..아는가 아무것도 기억이 안 나는 순간을? 잠에서 깨어나 눈을 떴는데 여기가 어디인지 지금이 언제인지 자신이 누구인지 알 수 없는 ,주위의 사물들이 전혀 기억이 없는 하나도 뭐가 생각이 안 나는 그런 황당한 상황을,이 때의 느낌을 그 극도의 불안을 겪어본 적이 있는가 ....중략
에세이 '피아니스트' 중에서 권이나 2016
Les gens ne parlent pas de leur propre histoire en général. C’est-à-dire la vérité est un secret, nous avons tendance à garder, cacher au fond du cœur, plutôt que de dévoiler... parce que dire la vérité, la déclarer, gêne, nous dérange, nous effraie. Quand elle, l’auteur sort de la vérité, raconte, écrit ses tristes histoires vécues et vit, en faites,en le lisant,en assistant nous sommes désemparés car les gens comme nous, qui reflechissons d une maniere droit,rigide,logique voire froid,ne pouront jamais la consoler ni de l encourager.
‘ Pianist ‘ critique essayiste Chung Seung Youn
People don't usually talk about their own story. That is to say, the truth is a secret, we tend to keep, hide deep in our hearts, rather than reveal ... because telling the truth, declaring it, embarrasses us, bothers us, scares us. When she, the author comes out of the truth, tells, writes her sad lived stories and lives, by assisting ,we are all confused, helpless because we who only know the ultimate manners, logical and cold , hardly have the capacity to console or encourage her.
‘PIANIST’ From the essay "Pianist"-Critic. Jung seung yun
'Pianist' Letter from washington 2017
I just read your story ,it is just incredible how you survived such pain for the physical pains.. if you had not had to go through such a hardship at such an early age, your arts and now writing this would not be the same. I know how a beautiful luminous pearl is formed inside on oyster ,now you have told the whole world how you survived and overcome,all I can say is congratulation. your courage in telling the whole wide world what you had to go through is really heroic.I am sure your story will encourage millions of people and give them hope that they too can achieve something ...H.L
...... All of a sudden my eyes are pulled upwards by a strange force, that pulls my head back, further back ... I try to resist with all my strength, in vain... My helpless body is sucked into a black hole, black with silence in an infinite space, slowly ... I see a white ceiling .. I look around me... My body is lying on the ground... Why? What happened ? Where I am? Where is this ? Where is it here ? ... A distant noise, like an echo, rings deep in my ears... I hear a voice ... Someone is calling me... Do you know what it is to remember nothing? Do you know this feeling, to wake up, opening your eyes, after a deep sleep, not recognizing anything? Of lights, smells, sounds, of everything that surrounds you, to not remember any of it? In this moment, you are a stranger, unknown to yourself ... Have you ever felt hell for a moment, the extreme anxiety, where you find yourself lost, fearful of people's stares, humiliation, a moment of despair. ..............
Excerpt from essay ´Pianist ´ - 2016
매우 반짝인다. 내 앞에 보이는 것 모두가.아프고나면 보이지 않던 것들이 보인다 .기억을 끌어내는 동안 못보던 게 나타난다 .내가 저런걸 그린 적도 있었나 ?벽에 걸린 캠퍼스 안에 그리다 만 얼굴 ,저건 '피아니스트'가 되겠다! 나는 그 자리에서 타이틀을 달고 그림을 마무리 지었다 .이 그림과 글은 그렇게해서 생겼다 .
“Pianist” exrait essay ‘피아니스트’ oil 30 /45cm 2007
L'Âme de poète
‘화가의 혼’ ‘Painter’s Soul’ oil 175/140 Extrait from essey
………끝이 나므로 홀가분 하다 해도, 늘 아쉬운게 전시 마지막 날이다.
멀리 내 그림이 보인다
이제 어두워지는 그랑빨레 의 밤 -Grand Palais-Paris . 앉아있는 이 돌계단을 둘러싸는 늦가을의 냉기.아무도 없는 썰렁한 내 그림 앞…사람들이 저걸보고 '추상'이라해도,그들 눈엔 샛노란 꽃이 꼽힌 ,그리다가 만 화병으로 보인다 해도 ,나 밖에는 알아보지 못한다해도 ,내 눈에는 ,저건 ,틀림 없는 그의 얼굴이다 ,그의 ‘혼’이다 , 갈 곳 잃고 떠도는 가여운 혼 ,'화가의 혼'이다 !
책가방 들고 교복 차림으로 보러 갔던 신문회관 이중섭 전시 .층계까지 닥지닥지 붙여놓은 담뱃갑 그림들 ,그 작은 담뱃갑안에 아이들이 놀고 있었다 ,꽃과 게와 고추와 소나무 ,내 나라 ,전쟁 ,가난 ,그리고 눈물 그 모두가 한데 모인,
담뱃갑 속은 사랑으로 가득 차있었다 ,나같은 철부지 조무래기들에게 까지 깊은 감동을 주었던 전시회 ,그러고 보면 잘 다듬어진 큰 그림들 만이 꼭 우리 마음에 와닿는 건 아닌가 보다 ,작은 담뱃갑 그림이 이렇게 가슴을 치는 걸 보면 ! .....어쩌면 그의 '슬픔'을 우리가 사랑하는지도 모른다 ,나의 전전긍긍이 그의 절망에 동감 하는지도 모른다 ,자신과의 싸움 ,나자신하고의 씨름,뭔가를 기대하며 떼엇다가 붙였다가 또 떼어버리던 흙 과의 시간 ,나는지금 그걸 화판위에 벌이고있는지도 모른다…눈에 ,내자신의 눈에 찰때까지 기다리는 그 긴긴시간,그래도 영원히 빛을 못볼거라는,한백년 살아도 다 못할거라는,아무것도 여지껏 한게 없다는 생각이 들땐 난 자다가도 벌떡일어나진다....
길,초조한 길,끝도 없는 의문의,길도 없는길.나 혼자 덩그라니 그 길 위에
서있다.차가운 그랑빨레 이 대리석 계단,지금 여기,나 앉은 이자리,이고독,이 고문,내 창자,내 꼬라지를보고,문득 ,아니 갑자기 ,저어기 보이는 내그림,내 '화가의 혼'이 ,그 안에 찍힌 꺼어먼 반점이 ,중섭의 푸석푸석한 누런 더벅머리가,길 잃은 그 혼들이 내게 손짓을 한다, 손을 흔들며 날 막 부르는것 같다,오라고 이리 오라고,그렇게 혼자있지말고 ...와서 같이 놀자고,우리 같이 목놓아 서럽게, 한번 울어나 보자고....
전시장을 나와 집을 향해 걷는다,돌아가는 길녘엔 온통 헐벗은 마로니에 나무숲. 나무들 사이로 보이는 메트로 구멍.그 앞은 벌써 크리스마스 분위기로 들떠있다 .잎도 채 지지않은 가로수 가지마다 눈부시게 반짝이는 예쁜 색동 꽃 등불 .
또 한해가 서서히 막을 내린다
Grand Palais,Paris, 빠리 11월 ,2011
저자의 글 '아버지에게'중에서
Villejuif,
´L'âme de poète ´ oil 175/130 2006
..abr…. Je regarde ma toile de la veille , c'était un pot rempli des fleurs jaunes que j'ai longtemps travaillé encore jusqu'à hier, mais là Dans une lumière sombre ,je vois qu'il y ait des taches noirs.. on dirait des yeux ..j'ai l'impression qu'ils bougent en plus.peu à peu le pot était en train de se transformer en ´visage.....
extrait essay 2015
Lee Sang-eun reviewed ina kwon's 'Soul of Painter'
Reading Kwon Na's text makes me free. I don't have to feel guilty while feeling my own way. This is because the author is also speaking freely. Because the author allows it.
Kwon Na uses vocabulary here and there like paint. Meaning disappears and feelings and emotions are alive. Maybe Kwon Na's painting is like this. As the meaning of the text is moderately broken and the feeling blooms, in the painting, color, feeling, and emotion will overwhelm the canvas rather than the outline and shape. I imagine so. I just intend to feel. Like listening to music without lyrics. Let's throw away the meaning sometimes. Let's shake off the idea. Like Kwon Na. If you abandon the idea and meaning, you will see another side of existence.
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About Ina kwon's painting Critic ,Jung Seung- Yoon
Reviewed after Kwon Ina s “ Soul of a Painter” oil,175/145 2007
Kwon Ina uses vocabulary like color paints everywhere in his work. Meaning disappears, feelings and emotions are alive. Kwon Ina's paintings will also be drawn like that , So the meaning is moderately broken, and the feeling is blooming..Colors, feelings, and emotions will overwhelm the cus. I really imagine so. I just intend to feel. As if listening to music without lyrics. Let's throw away meaning from time to time. Let's shake off logic notions Like Kwon Ina .If you abandon it, you will see the very other side of ‘Existence’. by lee Sang -Eun ,2015
Peinture de ina kwon. Critic j.s.y
Chaque fois que je regarde les peintures de Kwon Ina me vient le mot "tâtonnement sombre''. Je sentais que je le créais en bégayant plutôt qu'en dessinant, dans le noir plutôt que dans la lumière, avec la pulpe d'un doigt ou un couteau plutôt qu'un pinceau. Plutôt qu'un festin de lumières et de couleurs entre fleurs et papillons, cela semblait être l'œuvre d'une araignée qui rassemble le clair de lune chaque année dans l'obscurité. Donc, même si ses peintures semblent rugueuses et ambiguës, tout compte fait j'ai senti le poids d'une existence pesante. Il en a été de même pour ses écritures : j'ai dû "chercher'' dans le noir en la lisant pour comprendre ce qu'elle essayait de dire au final...
A few words about a real passion. oil,175/135 2007
CHO Kyong-Ran, novelist
I can't forget the day I saw Ina Kwon's paintings for the very first time.
That day I had gone to see MANIF, the exhibition held at the Arts Centre, and was walking about with nothing particular in mind. Wherever I went I wasn't doing more than passing by, without enthousiasm, just having a look. Paul Valéry once said that if you don't live like you think, you will end up thinking like you live, and that was how I was at that moment, my thinking dictated by my life, passive and being acted upon. Then, all of a sudden I had the feeling that something was seizing me, something coming out of the earth. I turned and looked back. There, some paintings like I had never seen before were hanging on a wall.
If there hadn't been the titles it would have been rather difficult to understand what they
were about. If looked at from near it was impossible to know what was meant, and only if you looked at them from afar could you make out a form, in the manner of impressionnist paintings. That is how Ina Kwon's paintings appeared to me at first. I looked at them again and again, going back and forth, far and near. Me who had always wanted to understand an artwork and to dialogue with it, at this very moment, I ceased to be just a passer-by. What I saw in her paintings, wasn't it myself in a mirror, that part of myself that hurt and which I wanted to get rid of?
It was like her paintings were hesitating between resistance and resignation, between excitation, fervour and detachment. The colours, I saw them with amazement, bursting like flames out of a background that contains them all. I was particularly absorbed by her blue. A bluish light, dark and hurting, covered with a black gauze. Hasn't it been said that blue always goes along with its shadow? Then I noticed her yellow, sparsely used, as if cut with a sharp knife in a single stroke. A yellow menacing and excessive, like the the desperate cry for help of a frightened animal. Those contrasting yellow and blue rays, those gleams from all the different layers of paint, like water that in his movement draws along everything else, softly blended together. And Ina's paintings asked me so insistenly how long I was going to keep backing out and passively submit…
… After that we have met once. We talked far into the night about painting and literature. My feeling that this wasn't the first time we met might have come from the fact that I had already seen her paintings, and that she had already read my books before. Whatever, it was not important, anyway. We might very well not even have talked about anything that day. Maybe because we had long moments of silence. But she knew. She knew that about things that cannot be expressed in words, things one should keep silent. Sometimes silence that is more eloquent than words. Like the person sitting in front of me. This was not an ordinary person, but somebody always ready to learn and to discover, somebody who was very familiar with the suffering that comes from the craving for life. This person here was her own painting.
I am a writer. I am trying to find out how to describe the world with words. That I took up the pen and started to write was out of necessity. At the time, when Ina Kwon's painting held up my step, I guessed, I felt, I knew that this must be the case for her also.
Strangely, whenever I see a good painting, my chest starts aching. Isn't that the way it is? Without Cézanne's anxiety and Van Gogh's anguish, could their paintings be really beautiful? The most difficult thing is to believe in and to respect oneself,
Works all the more sincere as they are born in pain and full of life, telling of their creator's strife that opposes her inner self and the forces from without. Leaving behind these works painted with such extraordinary fervour, I slowly walked out of the exhibition hall. Me who had for a long time been living a passive life, I had realized that I shouldn't let myself be upset by things happening around me, that silence may be more musical than sound. And, I had won something else. It was to have been made to think once more about the value of my own self, about the life I live as I like. Again, I have discovered that it is possible to get out of oneself, just as Picasso must have done with his cubist vision.
That was the day when I first saw Ina Kwon's paintings.
Mother's Portrait
Kwon ina's' “portrait of mother” oil 100F, 2000?
critic Lee Jong-Chun
I saw it when I went down
I didn't see when I went up
That flower
Go- Eun 'That Flower'
I passed by Kwon ina s work,'Portrait of Mother' right behind the cover of Essay No57. The title seemed to portray a mother, but the dark background and the first impression were sharp, so I thought that she was a scary mother. The view of the picture was this shallow, and it was not my style. in her essay,'mother's portrait', her mother shouts all the time,
"useless creature! Myungsooya Let's go away, let your mom take a rest!she is always tired!"
" This fucking golf course is the source of pollution in this country! 'cutting the mountain,spread deshervant,spoils water !''
"hey,Do you have a shovel? you have'nt obiously !"etc
I went back to the front and looked at the painting.then I came back to the text. I went back and forth between the text and the painting a few times. In the meantime, the invisible image of mother began to appear little by little.her neck is long, body is slim, and hands are teasing. A slender grandmother with no law appeared quietly. Her face was not clear, but the atmosphere ressembled her mother in the portrait. My maternal grandmother, who died a long time ago, reminded me of her.
*'I paint without thinking and the scraped part came into my eyes. As I kept scratching, a hand came out. It's a familiar hand. i know this,This is just my mother's hands,My mother's broken hand, which was almost burnt out of fictional work for a long time until it became like this rake....full of sinews!'*
I went to the front and looked at her mother's hand. It wasn't still the 'shape of my hands' in my head, but it was a few strands of white hands that looked like scratched by a tree bar or wire. Without impatience, I looked at the painting for a long time. ..The figures were gathering' At one point, another rough hand appeared. I could see that hand, which was once upon a time white, long ,pretty hand. I quietly touched the picture. That hand.....abr..
*'Then, I folded one of the rolling paper wrappers, applied a podium, and pressed it firmly on the face. It's similar now. Even though it's a rake hand and a crumpled paper face, it really looks like my mother!...'*
I look closely at her face. The expression is alive. The face that looked like a scary iron mask seems to say something - was deep in the picture, was clearly revealed. A-hah..she must have been like this!
How l'm greatful !Thank you ina for the drawing and the writing. it really opened my blind eyes for sure.
abr......The portrait of the mother has cool expressions. It is not blocked. I read it refreshingly, but something comes to my chest and closes it. It hurts a little.....abr..
The porter who lives in the house said 'I don't know well, but your mother looked at the unwrapped picture without any comments, and she was standing in front of your painting for a long time!' .......'staying without words face to her daughter's painting ,a 'book' is floating upon mothers eyes ...'
Now, in the Kwon ina's paintings and writings, I can see her mother properly. My eyes finally opened.
Thank you very much.
Kwon ina essay'Mother's Portrait' critic reviewed by Lee Jong-Chun
Mother's illusion
Ina Kwon's “Mother's Illusion” oil 215/145 2017
reviewd by prof Kim Jong-Wan
Kwon Ina is an extra treasure trove of the Korean essay world. It is because She has a much higher status as a painter before an essayist. Such genealogy would be from Kim Yong-Jun in the 1940s, Chun Gyeong-Ja in the 1960's and 1970's, and Kim Jeom-Seon in the late 1990's cand 2000's.This genealogy will be passed down to Kwon Ina in the '2010s.' The adjustment of Kwon Ina's growth is a big week. When Jo Jung-Eun met her for the first time, how many words a painter who has left Korea for 40 years would have desperately poured out, would all be motives and foundations for her creation? Promised. This series was in the form of posting pictures as pictorials and writing about them. Kwon Ina was writing her own way, refusing to write in general, so she struggled to change it to a single code. The publishers hate that it wasn't a real shock, and the publisher silently endured the goal of the conflict and waited for the next week. Kwon Ina's essay has a characteristic that reveals the flow of human emotions smoothly and naturally, and it is that Korean essays are a valuable asset found only in essays by women painters Chun Gyeong-Ja and Kim Jeom-Seon, which have been lost or never had. I agree. Kwon Ina is 'Unique' in that respect.......abr
in 'Mothers Illusion '2017
'어미의 환상 '. oil 215/175 2020
나뭇가지처럼 앙상한 엄마의 긴 다리 ,나는 이 다리를 기억한다 ,나에게는 늘 어려웠던 엄마의 존재 ,갑자기 눈물이 핑 돈다 ,,,,불쌍한 엄마 ㅡㅡㅡ,,,,나는 나의 온 '촉 '을 동원해서 두 손을 부벼가며 열심히 주물럿다 ,꼬맹이적 생각이 났다 ,할머니가 날 볼까봐 난 할머니 다리를 이불 속에 숨어서 주물럿엇더랫지 ....바로 그때 ,'이 뜨끈뜨끈하고 부드러운 손이 누구손이냐 '?그러면서 엄마가 물끄러미 나 있는 쪽을 바라 본다 -정 어린 부드러운 눈길로 ,엄마의 그런 온화한 얼굴을 나는 처음 본다 ,몸이 풀리니 기분이 나아지셧나보다, 어두워 잘 보이지도 않는데 따뜻한 손의 주인이 누구건 ,굳이 알바가 있는가 .나는 길게 대답 않고 계속 발가락을 주물럿다.... 그게 내가 마지막으로 본 엄마의 시선이었다,,,,,,깡마른 엄마의 발목 ...이리 축난줄 알지 못하고 ..이런 내가 딸이라니 ,나같은 애물단지가 !갑자기 엄마가 너무나 불쌍하다 !나는 엄마의 차가운 발가락 사이에 내 열 손가락을 끼워서 기도하며 주물럿다 ,문책 하듯이 아니 애무하듯이 ,,긴 세월 맺히고 맺혓던 응어리들,설움 원망 저주 분노 모두 다 털어 ,언 엄마의 몸을 꾹꾹 주물럿다
ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ
공항으로 달리는 순간까지 치댓던,'아리랑'이라는 토를 달고 시작했던 이 그림 . 암세포 전이의 진전상태를 시시각각 전해들으며 긴장 속에 맘 조이면서 작업을 하는 동안 색도 선도 변해갔다 .춤사위 하얀고깔이 검정이 되더니 너울대던 긴 소매가 지워지면서 꺼먼 작대기가 나타났다 ,그 작대기 에 누가 매달려 간다 ,점점 정지하는 아리랑의 율동 ,그래선지 칙칙해 ,발치에 금가루를 발랐다 -더는 '아리랑'이 아니다 ....나와 엄마 사이에선 책이 한 권 나올거라 떠들었던 나 ,결국 그 책이 그림이 되었다 .오늘내일하시는 엄마를 병원에 두고 멀리떠나 와서는 제 작업에다만 온힘을 쏟아붓고있는 나....죄짓는 마음,나는 이 시각 불효하고 있다는 생각 ,이 캔버스를 앞에 두고 착잡한 심정으로 내 안에서 엇갈렸던 무수한 감정의 파노라마들을 엄마는 들으실까 ?이 안에 찬 나의 절규를 ?
나는 감히 '효'를 논햇엇지 허면,이 그림은 차라리 내 '식'의 '효'가될 수도 있지 않은가 ?...율동이 정지 되어 버린 '아리랑 ',내가 어머니에게 드리는 마지막 '선물 "....ㅡㅡ이 그림은 어머니 사 구제와 한 날 한시에 바다건너 어느 전시장에 걸렸다 ,나는 그날 ,양지 바른 금곡 ,아버지묘 옆에다 엄마를 나란히 묻고서 친지들과 함께 모여 분향을 했다 ,향 몇가치에 불을당겨 갓덮은 흙위에 얹고나니 왠지 ,아니 나도모르게 그자리에서 무릎이 꿇어 진다 ,절을 한다는게 ,언 돛자리 위에 엎드려 얼굴을 파묻고 그냥 머리를 조아린다 ....속이 찡 하니 뭔가가 내 가슴을 죄어온다, 아프다 -가슴이 ,꼭 ,찢어질 것 처럼 ,아프다 못해 아리다 ,너무 아리다 ...나는 머리를 수그렸다 ,정말 난생 처음으로 진심으로 !진정 사죄하는 마음으로 !그럴 수 밖에 없었다 ,내가 할 수 있는 건 이제 이것 뿐이었다,난 여지껏 그것도 몰랐다 ,그만큼 나는 아무것도 몰랐다 ,기가 막혔다 ....언 땅 언 비석 ,'이곳에 쉬다'라 적힌 쓸 쓸한 내 부모의 묘 ..그 앞에 펄썩 주저 앉아 소릴내어 울기엔 ,나자신 너무 면목이 없었다 ,눈물도 안 나왔다 ,오히려 화가 났다-내 자신이 부끄러웠다 ,그래서 나는 외쳤다 ,할 수 없이 속으로 ,그치만 마음으로 ,소리 죽여 ,아니 숨도 죽여 ㅡ
아부지! 엄마 !
고맙습니다!
에세이 어미의환상 중에서 권이나 2017ㅡ2018
Empty Armchair
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He's gone now. He's not there anymore. That he's not there anymore because he's gone now. Empty armchair, vacant place whatever .no important..……this canvas, later I put it on the altar at the time of the funeral- to pay homage to him, to make me forgive ... to daddy, a dad who loved me ..that I loved… besides, I didn't let him go, he roams around me somewhere to watch me, to support me……… that day,My mother stuck a label on it:’ empty armchair’. This is how this title that came to be.
In’ Memories’ 2011.
Il est parti maintenant. Il n’y est plus. Qu’il n’y est plus parce qu’il est parti maintenant. Fauteuil vide, place vacante peu importe... cette toile, plus tard je l’ai posé sur l’autel au moment des funérailles pour lui rendre hommage, me faire pardonner... à papa, un papa qui m’aimait... que j’aimais… d’ailleurs je ne l’ai pas laissé partir, il rode autour de moi quelque part pour me surveiller, me soutenir… Ma mère a collé une étiquette là dessus : fauteuil vide. C’est comme ça que ce titre est venu.
Dans Memories 2011.
Cette chaise est vide.Il est parti. Il n’y est plus.
la place est vacante a present. Cette toile,plus tard, je l’ai posé sur l’autel du temple, le jour des funérailles.cetait pour lui rendre hommage...me faire pardonner... a un papa qui m’aimait que j’aimais... d’ailleurs je ne pense pas quil soit parti.je ne l’aurais pas laissé, il rode quelque part pas loin de moi pour me soutenir…un jour j ai decouvert une étiquette la dessus, ecrit « fauteuil vide »c était ma mere. comme ça que ce titre est venu.
Dans » Memories » 2011
« 빈자리 » 'Empty Chairs’ ,oil 40/30 2006
부드러운 얼굴에 무서운 선생..
'니 그림은 정지 돼 있어 너는 니 환상에서만 산다 그림 아무나 하는 거 아니다 그만두거라 !' 서울 떠나는 마지막 날 새벽 ,날 불러 놓고 아버지가 하시던 말 .그 때는 그런 혹독한 말이 왠지 고깝게 들리지 않았다 ,너무 섭섭 할 때는 '무감각' 해지는 거겠지 .우리 아버지가 날 ,빌빌 하는 당신 딸을 보면서 참 얼마나 한심 했을까 ? 얼마나 억장이 무너졌을까?가시는 마당에 나한테 하고픈 말이 무진장 이었을거다 ,보통때보다 몇 백배 더 농도짙은 신랄한 ,온 정내미 다 떨어지는 말,독설이란 독설은 다 꺼내어 ,뱉어놓고 가고 싶으셨을거다 ! ……난 다 안다 ..아버지가 한심하단 눈으로 날 훔쳐볼때의 표정을,돌아선 내 뒷꼭지에 느껴지는 아버지의 시선을 ..이그으 저거 쯔쯔쯔 !
…abr삼베두루마기를 곱게차려입고 꽃신을 신고 평온히 누워 계신 아버지 .염을한 아버지의 크다란 손이 수의 밑으로 삐져나와 축 처져있다..………abr
아버지는 이제 가시고 없다 ..'빈자리'...아버지 앉아계시던 자리는 이제 비었다 ...abr후에 나는 아버지 상정에 이 그림을 올렷다 . '빈자리' 는 그때 어머니가 붙여주신 '토' 다.
2015 ,에세이 ‘빈자리’ 중에서
Symponie n 9
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"Symphony 9" oil 110/110 symphony 9, 2010
´´ Have you ever heard the sound of moonlight? Is there a sound on the moon? ´´when someone, someone who can hardly hears - transcribe the language of the moon into a beautiful musical notes that touch the world,I myself have to express the invisible things that we d'ont see- onto my canvas ............
extract of essay 'Symphony9´2015
"Symphony 9" Huile 110/110 Symphony 9 2010
‘Avez-vous déjà entendu le son du clair de lune? Y at-il un son sur la lune?´ quand 'quelqu'un, quelqu'un qui n'entend presque pas -arrive a transcrire le langage de la lune en manifique l'air de musique qui bouleverse le monde, moi,je dois arriver à exprimer des choses qu'on ne voit pas, quelque chose d'invisible sur ma toile vide .....
extrait 'Symphonie no 9' Essai de Kwon Ina 2015
달빛의 소리 를 들어본 적이 있는가
달에도 소리가 있는가
어느 누군가 들리지 않는 귀로 저 달의 언어를 오선지 위에 음으로 옮겼을 때 ,
나는 눈에 보이지 않는 무언가를 그림으로 표현해야 한다.......
권이나 에세이 심포니9에서.
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Petal
‘Petal’ oil 100/80 ‘petal ‘ 2006
‘Have you ever watched the leaves falling, silently, one by one? ‘When they fall swaying, floating on their tired wings, given over to the fickle winds, slowly to the ground... Are the leaves falling or do they bloom? I wouldn't know...
From Ina Kwon's essay ‘Petal’,"Falling leaves"
‘Avez-vous observé les feuilles tomber sans faire de bruit, une après l'autre ?’ Quand elles tombent, s'abandonnant à leurs ailes fatiguées, s'évanouissent en vrille, s'échouent enfin par terre... elles se fanent ?ou s'épanouissent-elles ? Je ne sais pas…
Ina Kwon, son essai ‘petal’
꽃잎사귀 oil 60/40 2008
꽃잎이 하나 둘 소리없이 떨어지는 광경을 가까이서 지켜본 적이 있는가? 잎이 힘없이 휘청이며 떨어지는 순간을?
지친 날개를 펴고 곡선을 그으며 천천히 밑을 향해 내려오는 모습.... 꽃잎은 떨어져 내리는가 아니면 피어오르는가 ?
알수없다…
권이나 에세이 꽃잎사귀 중에서
'꽃 잎사귀' ‘ Petal’ oil, 100/80. 2007
essey extrait `Petal’중에서
꽃에 정성을 드렸다. 슬그머니 시선이 가는, 가다가도 슬쩍 다시
돌아보게 되는 그런 꽃이 피어주길 기다리면서 정히 메운 새 캔버스,그림속 내 꽃에 매일매일 정성드려 물을 주었다 .
….중략
문제는 관중이 내가 그린꽃을 ‘신발’ 이라고 생각하는데 있다 ! ‘꽃잎사귀’라 굳이 토 를 달아놓은 이유는,자칫 혼돈을 할까, 꽃을 ‘신 ‘ 으로 착각하는 이들에대한 염려에서 나온 나의 각별한 배려 였다. 생각하기 나름이라, 뭐라 칭한다해도 별 상관은 없지만, 내 보기엔 정성들인 내 꽃이 신발로 보이는 그 들에게 오히려 문제가 있는 듯하다. 아무래도 좋다.
세인들이 칭하는 소위 ` 꽃`
꽃 과 같은 자태.꽃 의 자태를 지닌 여자.꽃의 자태
를 연상시키는 무엇 등등.... 한번 여인인 당신 자신이 그 꽃이라고 쳐놓고 이 말들을 다시 생각해 보라. 감미롭긴 커녕, 화가 날꺼다
꽃 중에도 화병의 꽃은 봉우리 졌을때 피리란 희망으로 어여쁘고, 활짝피면 그 아름다움에 환히 미소 짓다가, 차츰 빛을 잃고 시들해지면 여지없이 뽑아 버린다.
그림의 꽃은 그러나 영원히 시들지 않는다 ..는 나의 생각 , 완전한 교만과 확신을 가지고 정물화를 잡았다 .
시작 할때부터 뭔가가 빗나가,끝까지 문제를 일으키는것 들이있는데 이 정물도 그 중의 하나였다. 되지 않을껄 갖고 집요하게 물고 늘어지는 희열은 해본 사람만이 안다. 그래도 왠 지 이번 만큼은 그렇게 쉽지가 않아 ,애를 쓰고 하다 하다 정말 될대로 돼라 홧김에 칼로 북북 긁어 마룻바닥에 캔버스째 동댕이를 치고 손을 털면서 일어서는 순간,번더진 이 정물이 돌연 숨을 쉬기 시작한다 !먼지 쌓인 방바닥 어두운 바탕,칙칙한 캔버스 안에 하이얀 잎사귀들이 여기저기 떨어져 있다 … 꽃잎을 잃고 지쳐 누워있는것 같은 그림 위에 박박 긁어놓은 아까 그 누룽지가 꽃잎사귀로 변하여 한 잎 두 잎 피어나는것 같다 ......중략
…꽃잎이 하나 둘 소리없이 떨어지는 광경을 가까이서 지켜본 적이 있는가? 잎이 힘없이 휘청이며 떨어지는걸 보았는가 ?
지친 나래를 펴고 곡선을 그으며 천천히 밑을 향해 내려오는 그 모습 , 떨어지는 그 모냥이 사실은 남들이 모르는 진짜 `꽃`의 `자태`가아닌가?
꽃잎은 떨어져 내리는가 아니면 피어오르는가 ?
알수없다…나는 별 자신없이,자신없는 이 그림을 전시장 한쪽 벽에 걸었다.
정물화 전시장 .
눈부시게 아름다운 꽃 다운 꽃 사이로 저 만치 신발의 형태를 한 책상위 화병안에,고갤떨군 꽃 하나가, 가지 없는 내 꽃이-잎을 잃은채 맥없이 서있다.잎도 사실 나 때문에 잃어버린 화병의 저 가지가 제 잎사귀 지는걸 물끄러미 바라보는것 같다..그 꼴이 왠지 슬퍼, 다가가 물어본다 `왜 그래요? 왜 그리 슬퍼요 ?`...........
언제 한번 차분히 잎사귀 들을 지켜 본적이 없는 내가 자신이 그린 꽃잎 앞을 떠날줄 모른다 .잎을 잃은 꽃이 애처로와? 지는 꽃을 보기가 안타까와? 꽃도 언젠가는 잎을 잃는다는 사실이 슬퍼? 이 모두 자태와는 멀어져 간다는게 섭섭해?
목을 빼고 바라보는 하이얀 내 꽃잎사귀 ...이렇게 목을 빼고 보게되는 그림은 목을 빼고서 그렸던 그림인가보다..
산전 수전 겪은 이 그림, 내 늙은 누룽지꽃이 팔려 가던날 ,나는 마치 내가 고이 키운 아이가 내 품을 떠나는 느낌이었다 ...시들은 꽃 줄기를 반으로 접어 쓰레기통에 넣어버릴때의 속 시원한 그 기분이 아니었다... 자태로 치면 시들어 가는 연변의 들꽃이될, 내 곁에서 소리없이 한결같이 늘 나를 거둬주던 친구가 ,내 짝이, 이제 내 곁을 ,머언 길을 영영 떠나가는것 같은 뭐라 할수없는 그런 서운한 마음이었다 ...
차라리 꽃신 이라 토를 달았더라면 ,어렵게 한켤레 팔고 숨 돌이키는 신장수의 환한 웃음을 흉내라도 내볼것을!
그 꽃신이랑 내 신발꽃… 어느 하늘 아래있는지 잘 있는지 어디 다치지나 않았는지 소식이라도 들어볼수 있다면..보고싶어라 ......
빌쥐프2015 권 이나 수필 ‘꽃잎사귀`중에서
Voyage au bout de la nuit
´Visitors' oil, 40/35 2017 critic Jeong Seung-yoon
Whenever I look at Kwon's paintings, I put up the word ``dark groping.'' I felt that I was creating it by stuttering rather than drawing it in the dark rather than light, with a fingertip or a knife rather than a brush. Rather than a feast of colorful lights and colors between flowers and butterflies, it seemed to be a work of a spider that gathers moonlight each year in the dark. So even though her paintings seem rough and ambiguous, in the end, I felt the weight of a heavy existence. The same was the case with the writing: I had to ``seek'' in the dark as I read her writing to find out what she was finally trying to say.............
망아지
‘Mang Aji’ oil 30/20 1990?
The years aren't long nor short, they only seem so in our eyes. The time passing by for everyone sometimes feels too short sometimes too long. In this life, long or short, we learn a lot, a lot of things. Artists struggle for a long time for this, devote their life, live to learn or learn to live...
Learning is important, but there is something we lose here - we lose as much as we learn. I've lost as much as I learned, I lost as much as I gained in life...´
"Mang agi" - a little horse, as I was, awkward by not learning, not manipulating, still innocent and pure. The "Force" of clumsiness - the Freedom of it - the fundamentals of Art - I've lost them, i was losing them without knowing, but I gradually lost them....
extrait of ina Essay 2015
Poesie de Kim eun -hee ‘Tout Comme un portrait assis’.
L'un des plus méprisables parmi les trucs est l'histoire de ne pas avoir de bouche. Ce serait la magie de ce que la bouche ne devrait pas être, la magie de l'image. Pas pour voir la photo, mais plus pour la personne qui écoute la photo.
Voici le silence féroce que j'ai jamais entendu.
L'immobilité qui avale le silence, la lumière qui avale la lumière, le blanc qui avale le blanc, la forme qui avale la forme, et se rend soudain compte. Que je suis devenu sourd, et ce silence m'a brûlé les oreilles en un instant. Que la couleur statique est la couleur blanche du feu qui a atteint le pic de chaleur.
Après être devenu sourd, je vois l'image. Tu peux le voir. J'ai une forme forgée comme du platine à l'extrême du feu qui ne peut pas être chauffée, une forme qui se brûle aussi bien que du bois de chauffage.
Le nez d'une personne qui avait une forme nette avec une égratignure comme cette coupure est droit comme un couteau et brille comme une lame. Cependant, il sait que même cette splendeur est une seule égratignure, une accumulation de rayures sans vie. Ceux qui savent que l'existence est une structure tissée d'innombrables rayures.
Il est assis.
Dans l'obscurité bleu foncé d'une profondeur inconnue, peut-être dans le bleu foncé de l'aube, peut-être en extinction. Si ce n'est pas de la solitude, rien ne sera de la solitude, et si ce n'est pas de la solitude, rien ne sera joyeux.
‘portrait’. 120/80 1998 Écrit par Poete Eun-hee Kim
달밤
« 달 밤 » -귀뚜라미 이야기 - Oil. 40/30 2005
할머니 손잡고 보는 달 우리애 손잡고 보는달
나 혼자 보는 달
달은 달인데 달 마다 다 다르다
나는 그 달 아래 집을 지었다. 하늘과 땅과 바람을 부치고 그 위에 색을 입혔다. 하늘은 까맣게 집은 파랗게……abr
한 가을 찬 바람에 달은 그만 하얗게 물이 들어버렸다abr 물끄러미 저 달은 마치 내가 저를 보듯,저도 나를 본다.. 문득 어디서 소리도 들릴 것 같다.. 저 달빛 타고 어쩐지 죽은 내 귀뚜라미가 나를 향해 막 뛰어 올 것 같다 ,지금 가을이라고,가을이 왔다고-나 여기있다고,널 보러 다시 왔다고....... Extrait Kwon ina 에세이,달밤 중에서2015
"Autumn moon" cricket story Oil 40/30' 'autumn moon'2005?
The moon that I see with my grandmother's hand
The moon that I see with my child's hand
The moon i see alone....
moon is the same moon, but each moon is different ..
On my canvas,i draw a moon and I built a house under .the sky, the earth, and the wind.l put the colors on.the sky in black, the house in apple green.but sadly the cold wind in the autumn blew on them,whole moon turnd in white ! It became pale... but How strange! that pale moon seems look at me,sees me as i see her too..then suddenly, l hear a sound comes out from my drawing ,a sound i know, a voice i knew long time ago..It seems ,it really seems to me that my old friend ,my tiny cricket who's gone has return, somehow by riding in the moonlight? is jumping towards me,to say "come ! it's autumn, autumn is arrived ..I'm here ! look ! I came back to see you".....
Extrait Kwon ina Essay' autome moon '2015
Green Apple
2021년 2월 14일 "청사과"
그림 '청 사과' Oil 120/80 1990/2021
이보다 더 슬픈 사과를 본 적이 있나 ? 난 왜 이렇게 어두움 만 찾아 다니며 울까 ? 이 그림은 내가 젊고 희망에 찼을때 그렸던 거겟지 분명. 난 이제 이렇게 생긴 사관 싫다 나는 희망을 그릴꺼다 . 그래서 날 기다리는 사람들 에게 밝고 맑고 파아란 희망의 사과 를 만들어 줄꺼다
“Green apple no2” Ina kwon oil 120/70 2005?
Have you ever seen an apple look as sad as this? This apple I must have been drawing while I was still innocent and life was full of hope... Why had i only been looking for darkness and tears ? Now I cannot stand all of this. I will never draw these things again. Now, time has come to try to do my best to make a fresh green apple, an apple that is full of hope... to share with people who need it, who are waiting for me somewhere… fev14,2021 villejuif
태극기 Drapeau
*Le Drapeau* ´Taekeukki' Oil,210/165 2020 fév
Pour ce drapeau je me suis acharné pendant quatre ans.chaque année,je l'avais raté.à la fin ,tant pis que j'aie raté encore,autant l'accrocher,quitte à mourir j'ai eu si peu de confiance ...Au moment où je la voyais accrochée sur le mûr de Grand Palais, Bien que c'etait raté,j'étais plutôt fière ...D'après tout,pendant toutes ces années,je m'étais tant appliquée!je merite ‘un coup de Chapeau'.le jour de vernssage,devant cette toile,franchement j’ai eu le cœur gros..j’ai applaudis,appaudir pour la premiere fois,à 'MOI’..
‘’태극기 ‘’ oil 175 /215. 2020
나는 이 태극기를 그리기 위해 4년을 매달렸다. 4년 동안 매해 망쳤다 .결국 마지막까지 망친 것을 ,기왕에 망친 거 도망치지 말자 하고 걸었다.너무나 자신이 없었다 . 가슴이 벅차오른다 하나 ?전시 오프닝날 ‘그랑 빨레 -Grand Palais’벽에걸린 내 태극기를 보는순간 울컥했다.그 세월을 얼마나 붙이고 또 지웠나 그림 앞에서 나는 내 자신이 자랑스러웠다.그래도 끝까지 놓지 않았구나..나는 박수 쳣다.내가 나에게 ,아낌없이 ,열렬하게…
Gegenständliches und Abstraktion
Ina Kwon aus Korea und die Wiesbadenerin Herma Lerch im Atelier Moering
U.E. — Acrylmalereien und Plastiken der gebürtigen Koreanerin Ina Kwon sowie
Aquarelle und Muschelzeichnungen der Wiesbadenerin Herma Lerch sind in einer
Ausstellung im Atelier Moering zu sehen. Dabei dominiert der Gegensatz die Malereien der
beiden Künstlerinnen: während die in Frankreich lebende Ina Kwon die Abstraktionen durch
eine dunkeltonige Schichtengestaltung erzeugt, gestaltet Herma Lerch ihre Blumenaquarelle
mittels einer locker geführten Pinseltechnik, die die Motive hindurchflutet, transparent und
trotz fluidaler Andeutungen gegenständlich eindeutig formuliert.
Die weisse Grundfläche wird in derartigen traditionnell gemalten Aquarellen nur
bedingt miteinbezogen. Dagegen wird sie in zwei stark abstrahierten
Landschaftsdarstellungen zum unmittelbaren Bestandteil des Motivs, das nur durch
vollkommene fluidale Pinselspuren angedeutet ist. Flächigkeit ersetzt räumliche und
plastische Qualitäten.
In den kleinformatigen Tuschezeichnungen treibt Herma Lerch ihre Abstrahierungen
voran, so dass nur noch „Spuren” entstehen, die Experimenten mit einer subjektiv erzeugten
Strichführung im Einklang mit der weissen Fläche gleichkommen. In diesen Zeichnungen
steht der frei gefundene abstrakte Strichrhythmus im Vordergrund.
Abstraktion in absoluter Harmonie mit der Fläche ist in den stark verdichteten
Schichtmalereien von Ina Kwon unmittelbares Thema. Die in den Titeln angedeutete
Gegenständlichkeit, wie „Stuhl“, „Hund“ kommt in allen ihren Bildern durch eine rein
abstrakte Farbmalerei zustande, sodass die Motive erst nach längerem Hinsehen in den
Dunkelgestaltungen aufscheinen, um anschliessend wieder in den gestisch initierten Malerei
unterzugehen.
Ina Kwon geht in ihren Bildern nicht vom Motiv aus, sondern gestaltet in erster Linie
einen reflexiven, eigenständigen, die Fläche betonenden Farbzusammenhang, der aus eigener
Kraft das Motiv andeutet. Motivische Uneindeutigkeit und Diffusion dominieren die
Farbchangements, die die Dinge stets in einer Art „Schwebezustand“ veranschaulichen.
Ähnliches gilt für die Plastiken (bi 22. Juli).
Ina Kwon
Toute peinture ambitieuse est ambiguë, en ce qu'elle brouille les pistes et se tient parfois au carrefour de plusieurs courants, d'où la difficulté à en isoler la ligne fédératrice. Mais plus que les classifications, ce qui compte en priorité, ce sont les rapports des formes entre elles, leurs correspondances ou leurs discordances, leurs calibrages et leurs recentrages, le dosage des nuances chromatiques et le travail sur la matière.
Ces facteurs déterminants ont toujours guidé la perception d'Ina Kwon. Néanmoins, elle n'a pas choisi sa vocation ; elle s'est imposée à elle de manière immanente, après une longue phase consacrée au jeu de la terre dans la main, au cours de laquelle naîtront de robustes figures décharnées moulées dans le plâtre et ensuite dans le bronze, témoignages de son adresse manuelle et de son tempérament volontaire et généreux. Passée à la peinture, ses origines orientales affleurent discrètement sur l'écorce échancrée de ses supports, à travers le rôle des zones lacunaires, la liaison entre la densité des plains et des vides, et le recours à des nappages gazeux qui renvoient aux flux naturels. Mais forte d'une liberté revendiquée, attachée aux détours du réel, elle n'a pas tenté d'en évacuer la trace, en rejoignant l'abstraction monochrome un temps en vogue en Corée du Sud, son pays d'origine. Ayant établi sa propre synthèse, elle a opté pour le mélange des genres, même si la figure domine.
En quelque sorte, sa pratique se situe dans l'évocation, parce qu'elle ne nomme pas. D'abord on est plongé dans une marée de signe brefs, voire de piquetages qui s'articulent sur des trames interstitielles vaporeuses et grattées, dont les rythmes s'échelonnent et se diluent dans une "matière –lumière" constellée de courts paraphes striés. Et à l'Instant le moins attendu, se dessine sur la toile comme à la dérobée, le profil longiligne ou ramassé d'un visage, d'un tronc ou d'un corps, subrepticement émergés de la gangue abstraite, et déclinés par un graphisme sculptural ténu, qui agit sur le statut de l'image, sans en alterner l'harmonie globale. Car nous avons là une peinture d'harmonie, ventilée par une houle contrastée, couturée de menues balafres mitoyennes où les formes ondoient et se chevauchent, créant des brèches et des replis émaillés de soudaines incandescences.
Puis de nouveau apparaissent à contre-jour les configurations embrumées d'une silhouette féminine ou d'un faciès noyé dans la pulvérulence de la matière. En d'autres occasions, les traits du visage, par exemple ceux du "Poète", se font plus saillants, accusent des rides et des dérèglements organiques aux lueurs blafardes, qui réfléchissent une impassibilité inquiète, dans une veine proche de l'impressionnisme.
Par ailleurs omniprésente dans l'esthétique de l'est-asiatique, la nature n'est pas éloignée de certaines étendues mouvantes et griffées de l'artiste, quand le ciel et la terre se rejoignent, ainsi de "Moonlight". A la spatule ou au couteau, au moyen de touches rapides incisées par un geste nerveux, le champ se dilate ou se resserre, les formes fusent et se recomposent dans une condensation osmotique ouverte sur le monde.
Maintenant, si on peut tout dire avec les mots, la peinture a des secrets que la parole ne peut confesser. Donc, sans être taiseuse, la démarche pudique d'Ina recèle des sentiments cachés qui traduisent les vicissitudes de l'existence et les blessures d'une histoire personnelle, où la mélancolie sert de garde-fou à une plus grande détresse.
Toutefois, au sein de cette syntaxe ambivalente qui penche vers la figure masquée, il n'est pas nécessaire d'établir des distinctions. La peinture se suffit à elle-même pour tout dire. Et l'essentiel pour Ina Kwon, c'est le sens de l'image, l'impact de sa présence, sa cohérence, où intention et réalisation s'épousent à l'aune de ses convictions intimes.
Gérard XURIGUERA