Jin
Jeong
Jin Jeong (b. 1993) is an artist based in New York City. She received a BFA from the School of the Art Institute in 2017 and an MFA from Hunter College in 2022.
memory/
Breathing is an integral element in my work. The natural landscape is very important to me, and I try to capture the sensations I feel when breathing in nature. I remember the feeling of airflow as I breathe in and out in a specific environment. Even at the same time in winter, the air and color of light in the desert of the West Coast are different from the forests of Upstate New York. The breath in the desert feels expansive and rounded, while the light is tinted orange and pink. In the forest, the breath feels crisp and the light is more blue and turquoise.
My observations in nature focus on transformation, such as in changing seasons or in light and shadow. I try to remember as much as possible about specific time differences, such as how the sun changes, how the colors change, and how the depth of shadows evolves. I don’t try to replicate images of a landscape from photos. I remember and interpret the landscape and my physical experience into abstraction.
I struggle with anxiety and panic attacks, so I often forget how to breathe properly during the day. I think that happens to many modern dwellers, because we breathe to live, but don’t consciously know how to breathe healthily. I have to go on walks for almost two hours a day just to see what breathing feels like on that day. Since I am a hypersensitive person, breathing in nature is important for me to calm down and focus on my painting practice. That study of myself and my sensitivities brought me to these emotional and abstract landscapes.
line/
Donald Judd is one of my greatest influences because he understood the importance of human experience in a physical space. He was concerned with how the viewer engaged with his works and how he could make them self-conscious of their relation to the space. His designed calculations are not visible to the viewer, but people understand and perceive them just by existing in the space. There is an openness to his work. To me, nature is also open. It doesn’t teach you to feel a specific emotion. The sensations and emotions are instinctual. I think of nature as giving an invitation–an invitation to breathe, an invitation to feel–which I also try to employ in my painting.
Helen Frankenthaler is important to me for her soak-stain technique. The techniques of Western painting typically involve opaque paints layered on top of each other. Eastern painting involves the absorption of ink or pigment into the paper or the canvas. That’s why I think I’m in between Eastern and Western painting. I layer paint and color, but I also let the linen absorb the paint and develop profound colors by layering translucent pigments. I think the techniques I use are influenced by my subconscious preferences as a Korean artist.
I never thought that I had a connection with Korean painters because I learned how to paint in Chicago and only studied Western painters. Once I learned that I loved being in the comfort of nature, I began engaging more with Eastern painting and philosophy. I started connecting to concepts in Taoism and Buddhism, seeing energy in the soil and the universe, and saw their conceptual relations to Kandinsky, Kant, and the Sublime. It’s not about Western or Eastern. Our shared humanness includes our ability to connect with the energy in nature.
color/
If I visit a place where I feel deeply connected to the landscape, I just feel the energy of the soil, grass, and flowers. I try to remember only two elements as colors: the highlights and the shadows. I also try remembering how my eyes move around the forest or park. I don’t sketch or plan anything. I just go straight to the canvas and I make large gestures with a paintbrush for the first and second layers. These first layers use oils diluted with turpentine to make a translucent paint that soaks into the linen. The grand gestures of paint form the basis for the composition and convey the sweeping and jumping movements of my eyes around the landscape.
I then add the two colors from the highlights and lowlights. I develop the rest of the palette of the painting through an engagement with these colors. For example, if I begin with purple and orange, they are the main colors, then the entire spectrum in between is filled by understanding colors in relation to each other. Color theory is integral to my practice. If I use a darker purple as a neutral device, then I will use a deeper green next to it as a contrast. It is a form of problem-solving, figuring out what tones and hues of colors have to go next to previous decisions.
I think my paintings are representational because even if they are abstracted, viewers will always recognize the landscapes. People can see organic, biomorphic shapes in the paintings that remind them of legs, tongues, or sensual human body parts. That is an inevitable thing, and it’s up to the viewer how they engage with my paintings and what they recognize in them. Nature has brought me peace and helped me understand who I am, so in turn, I want my paintings to be a shelter for breathing and self-reflection for my viewers.
Images courtesy of the artist, Albertz Benda Los Angeles, Chris Young, Loyal Gallery, Jean-Baptiste Béranger, Sora Woo, and © 2024 Christie’s Images Ltd.