Red Herring #2, 2024, Oil on linen, 80 × 80 in

Image credit: Daniel Greer
Courtesy of the artist.

City Hyperopia, 2025, Mixed media, 4.3 × 30 in

Image credit: Daniel Greer
Courtesy of the artist.

Red Herring #1, 2024, Oil on linen, 80 × 80 in

Image credit: Daniel Greer
Courtesy of the artist.

Coffee and Cigarettes, 2024, Oil on linen, 6 × 21.5 in

Image credit: Daniel Greer
Courtesy of the artist.

Twins, 2024, Oil on linen, 68 × 33 in,

Image credit: Daniel Greer
Courtesy of the artist.

memory/

The keyword “memory” is the central idea that flows through all of my works––how memories are vulnerable to distortions and inaccuracies, and how they gradually fade over time, undergoing reconstruction and alteration when recalled. Narratives created through memories and perceptions are fragile, prone to errors and illusions.

This interest stems from my childhood. I was raised as the youngest child in a household with three generations and dozens of animals under one roof. When my parents married, my mom moved in with my grandparents and my father’s seven older sisters. In addition, we had around eight dogs, dozens of cats, and a huge group of carp––so many that we lost track.

This environment placed me in the middle of an intricate power dynamic between humans and animals. When I was young, I saw myself as the tail end of the humans and the head of the animals, who were treated as possessions for display. I felt a responsibility to be a spokesperson for the animals, yet I often lacked full awareness of what was happening within such a large household. This gave rise to fundamental doubts about the reality of experience, cognition, and memory.

Even if my work isn't directly related to memory, it carries an undercurrent of questioning––a blurred suspicion, an attention to relativity, and the possibility of change depending on perspective.

The artist’s studio.

Courtesy of the artist.

line/

Although my works take visual form, the process leading up to painting is linguistic. I build illogical lists of words with no order, applying the writings loosely and abstractly. At one point, I began with a concrete idea behind my paintings, but the paintings never turned out as I originally anticipated, and I lost enjoyment in the process. I got rid of this rigid preparatory process, but I still have visuals in my head stored in words or sentences. I write down what I don't want to lose. Since my concepts are eventually finalized as images, developing an idea through text opens up more possibilities for visual interpretation.

Looking at my drafting practice from a technical angle, I recently started pencil drawings as a quick exercise before painting. The drawing exercise doesn't relate to my actual painting––it's about trying to loosen up. I am someone who believes that a solid foundation is very important and allows for full control over your work. It's like sports; once you've learned something, it’s always going to be in you. However, if you stop practicing and stimulating that skillset, it calcifies and crumbles away. Drawing is the basis of painting, so I am trying not to lose it.

The artist’s studio.

Courtesy of the artist.

color/

I have no step-by-step process, even though I feel like I should at this point. I had a huge burnout since graduating last year, and I couldn’t paint on a large scale. I think my recent smaller works have given me room to breathe. In my recent series City Hyperopia, a series of five smaller paintings, I utilized a different color palette. With smaller sets of work, my choices have to be more intentional. It’s like a visual puzzle; the first painting began with a hand holding a green pencil, then I took that green and made it one of the colors in my palette. The palette grew out of subjects that happened to already be in the image.

I used to stick to a few colors, but I'm trying to get away from this right now. Within the first layer of my paintings, I often use a reddish-orange. The color is used in our society as a symbol of vigilance, like in caution signs and traffic signals. I also use artificial greens. Green is normally found in natural elements such as grass or forests, but the green I use is more akin to a toxic chemical. There is this sheer pink as well, which I think of as similar to the icing on mass-produced children's cakes. These colors create a constant tension; they are unnatural to the eye and often provoke discomfort. Looking toward the future, I want to keep this feeling, but also desire more diversity and variation in my work.

In terms of my subject matter, the figures in my paintings take on each other’s personas. Recurring elements morph into different combinations and situations. I use elements that are familiar to me, like the humans, dogs, and fish that permeated my childhood. More recently, I have utilized cityscapes and pigeons––motifs from my current life. Sometimes I see subjects metaphorically, such as flies or holes. I think about the flies as wandering souls without a destination. In contrast, my dogs always run straight in one direction, set on a particular destination.

I use diptychs, triptychs, and larger series to highlight the inherent limitations of understanding and formally visualize the parallax gaze. The gaps between the images disconnect them, but also suggest an infinite potential of time and space. I think about my individual works as a cell of a larger body or a gear in a machine. They grow in a nonlinear order and shift the operations of the whole accordingly.

Image courtesy of the artist.

Written and interviewed by Emma Kang.

Emma Kang is a writer and artist based in Washington D.C.

Published July 22, 2025.

Image credit: Daniel Greer
Courtesy of the artist.

Youngmin Park

Youngmin Park (b. 1997) is an artist based in New York and Seoul. She received a BFA from Korea National University of Arts in 2022 and an MFA from Columbia University in 2024.

Park’s debut U.S. solo exhibition, Allegory of Fragility, was presented at Make Room Gallery in Los Angeles in 2024. Her work has also been featured in group exhibitions such as Tone Check: The Skins of Contemporary Korean Painting at Eli Klein Gallery, New York; Bracing at Latitude Gallery, New York; MORE THAN NOW at Moosey Gallery, London; and in media res at The Blanc Gallery, New York. Additionally, she has participated in art fairs including ART 021 Shanghai with Make Room Gallery and NADA New York with A-Lounge Gallery.