Jae-hyun Kim paints questions. What is painting a question? This article also starts by posing a question. All acts of reasoning themselves, not only in this article, are a task of creating a chain of questions. Not a question but questions, because reasoning rather stops working at the moment you find the exact answer to the question. The questions that never reach somewhere but keep being delayed, raising another question, make us think and have us move. Such questions are usually asked through writing or speaking. It is an act of picking words gingerly, trying not to slip on the thin ice of symbols.
Kim, however, creates images, saying the things he has created are questions. Here again, let me ask what it is to paint a question. I paused for a moment to think about whether to put a period or a question mark here. In fact, it does not matter. Because there is no big difference in meaning. ‘?’ is a sign with one more bent line and a different meaning assigned, compared to ‘.’ In this contest, the difference between the two is very subtle. This subtleness occurs even though these punctuation marks are figures to anchor floating meanings. The same sign sometimes acts as a different meaning depending on where it is placed. For signs, meaning does not occur intrisically. It always exists in a certain relationship and moves around.
Images also have a surface where floating meanings can fall on. But it is much more slippery than the system of letters. The figures in an image continue to look wrong, deviate, and slip. Let’s continue our talk looking at one of Kim’s paintings. There are black stains on a hanging cloth. In the center, you can see the figure of two masses stained with relatively thin paint. When you step back a little, the figure soon becomes two hands. How did that happen? Is it because the figure is absolutely similar to the shape of the hands? We can also find some figures that can be seen as a hand or a segmented body part in Kim’s other paintings. However, those figures do not look alike. Sometime, a totally different painting technique is applied. Nonetheless, people who come across the images read certain meanings from those figures. That is, they are converging the ambiguous figures visible to their eyes into what they already know. Sometimes, we think of them as figures with specific meanings based on explanation given outside the canvas.
However, what is most important is that determining the meaning of each figure in an image is not the essence of the image. The image is not to simply refer to something else outside of it. Rather, the core of the image lies in the relationship between the whole and the part inside the image and the relationship between what the viewers expect and what works to meet the expectation. In such relationship, a figure turns into a hand, an eye, a bird, or a face. Yet they are not easily fixated. It is because they always exist in the tension of relationships. When looking at Kim’s paintings, if you gaze at the barely anchored figures, they tend to hide behind the traces of the brush again. In connection with the facial figure which is quite apparent, the dots scattered throughout the canvas look like shining eyeballs, but, at any moment, they melt back into abstract stains. Likewise, the figure of the sharp crooks on the front of the canvas makes us feel like it is piercing through our flesh, but soon goes back into traces of the brush.
Once again, coming back from the talks about images and figures, what is creating the figures of questions? This has a double meaning. Among the various figures that fill the canvas, only few things are structured into language. Most figures do not converge into specific meanings. Even after we put together all the figures and meanings in an image, surplus signifiants (signifiers) still remain. The joissance of semiosis, the sign process, can be found there. Images are intrisically beyond a simple sign process. Images as a work of art raise the question not of how close it is to the object it is referring to but of what gap it has with the object. This is why the viewers get to play a game between resemblance and non-resemblance as well as between the meaningful and the meaningless. Through this enigma, the painting itself becomes a question.
On the other hand, I think about the Diamond Sutra, which Kim recalled while painting the pictures as questions. In that arcane text, Shakyamuni and Subhuti come closer to the truth by exchanging questions. Instead of giving clear answers, Shakyamuni continues to ask question after question like Zen-dialoge to reach a certain spiritual stage. Is it because Shakyamuni is a Buddha who entered nirvana? In fact, it may not be that important whether Shakyamuni really knew the truth. More important is the fact that he is an ‘assumed’ subject to know everything. To borrow the language of psychology, since he is in the position of the big Other, the whole system of meaning works. Despite the fact that the big Other is actually not doing anything. In fact, his place is not different from being empty. It is the desire of the questioner that fills up the place. In this context, the fact that the conclusion of the Buddhist truth reaches ‘emptiness(空)’ creates an interesting resonance.
The place of meaning is vacant. The questioner has to put in his/her desire to make the meaning work. This is why we should not interpret the empty surfaces in Kim’s paintings in the context of materiality of modernism painting or against his background of Oriental art, but rather understand it as a screen on which the desires of the viewers are projected. Figures appear through spaces where no meaning can be read, and we see something. The reason the Diamond Sutra serves as a mysterious text is not in its narrative part where signification occurs but in this empty space created by meaningless mantras like “oṃ īriti īṣiri śruta viṣaya viṣaya svāhā”. We see “between” the empty and the filled. Images spring up from the gap in between. Figures, things that are not figures, questions, figures of the questions, and images.