“I cry during most of my paintings. I cry when the emotion I’m immersed in wells up, or because the painting I’ve made is so beautiful, because I like it.”
What is your name?
I’m Vada Lee.
Why did you become an artist?
Because I have a strong desire to express, as beautifully as I can, the emotions I have accumulated and hold within me.
If your work could be expressed in a single color, what would it be, and why?
Skin-tone Indian pink. I paint a lot of nudes, and I want to make paintings that are impassioned enough to touch people’s deepest feelings yet still warm, so I think the most primal color suits them. Indian pink is also the color of my cat’s skin, so it’s the color in which I feel the greatest sense of security and affection.
Has there ever been a work you thought of as a failure that later came to mean something to you?
Yes. That’s why, where I used to tear up or throw away the piece I wasn’t happy with, I now calmly bring it to completion one way or another and hold on to it for the time being.
Which direction of line do you use most in your work—vertical, horizontal, or curved—and why?
Curved, I think. Most of the world, in fact, is made of curves, and in that fluid flow I feel harmony and balance, and a pleasure akin to liberation. The human bodies I usually draw inspiration from, and the joints and markings of animals, are all made of curves too. So I end up using curves in my work as well.
If you had been born in a completely different era—Joseon, the future, and so on—what would you be painting?
Even then, I think I’d paint what I love, with people at the center, just as I do now.
Have you ever cried while painting? What was the moment?
I cry during most of my paintings. I cry when the emotion I’m immersed in wells up, or because the painting I’ve made is so beautiful, because I like it.
Is there a work of yours that you don’t want to sell—one where you say, “Not this one”?
Honestly, that’s true of most of my works. But a sale means my work has been recognized and loved, so I’m happy when one sells. And since a sale becomes the driving force that lets me transfuse new work, the way blood circulates through the body, I thought I shouldn’t be greedy and should sell. But a work where I truly feel “not this one,” I keep myself, give to someone close to me, or sell while arranging things so that I can see it whenever I want—that puts my mind at ease.
Which produced better work: your happiest moment or your hardest one?
Neither. In my hardest moments, not only my mind but my body collapses completely, so the very foundation for making anything gives way. In my happiest moments, I feel so fulfilled even when I do nothing that it never occurs to me to add anything more. The best work seems to come when I’m moderately unhappy—swallowed up by loneliness or by emotion surging up—or, conversely, moderately elated, exultant, and hungry for more.
What do you most often observe in daily life?
I observe people’s faces and the lines of their bodies a lot. Sometimes animals too. I love the curves that warm, living things make. Now and then I like natural things, but mostly I feel the scenery of nature rather than observe it; I do often observe beautiful flowers and the shapes of tangled tree branches, because I find them fascinating.
Of past, present, and future, which is your work oriented toward?
None of them, it seems. If I had to choose just one, it’s mostly emotions that arose in the past and that I had stashed away; but when I take them out to look at them, they are what I feel now, so it’s ambiguous. It’s the same when I paint the future. To be precise, my aim is to paint something that encompasses all of time.
If you could have a conversation with someone through your work, what kind of conversation would you want it to be?
I want to hear any kind of completely unrestrained response.
I’m curious about people’s opinions. When a painting I’ve made reaches someone, I sincerely want to know what kind of resonance it sets off, and I find that fascinating. But I hope it’s a thoughtful one. If it is, I’d be truly grateful.
When you receive criticism or evaluation, what concerns you most?
Naturally, negative feedback wouldn’t feel good, but if there’s a reason I can accept, I think I could even enjoy it. What I’d truly hate is someone glancing at my painting and slinging insults for no reason.
Among works by other contemporary artists, is there one that made you think, “I’d like to make something like this”?
It isn’t painting, but I was deeply moved by the work of Pierre Huyghe, recently exhibited at the Leeum Museum of Art. I thought I would be truly happy if I could bring the people who look at my paintings to the depth of feeling I experienced walking through that exhibition.
Do you think art can change the world? In which way?
I think art is something intensely personal, a medium that evokes private feeling. But the world is, after all, made up of individuals, so—as the saying goes, “one is all, and all is one”—I believe an individual can change the world.
What is “beauty” to you?
The power to touch the depths of the heart that we covered over in order to survive.
Do you tend to pose questions through your work, or to offer answers?
I pose questions. My work is a succession of question marks. And I don’t think I’m very generous with explanations of my work—I’d rather remain a question mark. I don’t know my own work all that well, either. I hope each person will arrive at their own answer to the question marks I throw out.
Is there a kind of work you haven’t tried yet but would like to take on someday?
I’d like to draw and publish a graphic novel. I’d also like to make a short-animated music video. And I’d like to make a sculpture in the shape of a firebird.
What do you most want to paint right now?
Jennie’s nude.
If you were selected for a program that sends artists abroad for a residency, which country would you want to go to?
My skin and immune system are sensitive, so as long as it’s a clean, comfortable place with temperature control where I can get the lotion I use for atopic skin, fresh water, and food, I honestly want to go to all of them.