Interviews, Issue 6

Lee Bae

Moving in Time

Words SUBIN ANDERSON

Photography LAURA STEVENS

Styling MANON DEL COLLE

“The methodology should be concise. It should be simple,” says Lee Bae. Lee’s nominal yet intricate paintings are enough to merely look as it is, as each stroke reads almost like a figurative sense containing the artist’s emotion, movement, and history. One might think of these gestures as spontaneous, but every process is the fruit of intense research and countless repetitions of movement, gradually forming like a symphony. Through this, Lee’s body is infused with the gestures until they become unified, where wordless storytelling communicates their complexities.

Lee Bae creates a visual language that speaks directly to the viewer. The marks and textures created with charcoal are like a map of his innermost thoughts and emotions, a window into his very being. The jagged lines and bold strokes that characterize his work evoke a sense of energy and movement, as if the charcoal itself were alive and in motion, pulsating with energy. Meanwhile, the softer, more delicate tones suggest a sense of vulnerability and introspection. As we gaze at his works, we are drawn into a world of sensation that is deeply personal and universally relatable. It is a world that exists in the spaces between the marks on the page, inviting us to explore the infinite possibilities of the monochromatic palette and discover the beauty that lies in the shadows. Lee’s work is an enigma, a mystery waiting to be unraveled, and a journey of the senses that promises to captivate and inspire all fortunate enough to behold it.

In this interview, we discuss Lee Bae’s intimate process and approach to the series of his oeuvres and the desire to embrace and transcend one’s identity.

SUBIN ANDERSON: Having read about your life and career, I have so much I want to discuss with you. Before we delve into specific works, let’s talk about charcoal. In what ways has using this particular material expressed your artistic language, and how has it continued to guide your practice?

LEE BAE: I approached charcoal as a way to express my artistic sensibilities. It symbolized the cyclical nature of life and death, breathing new life into my creative practice. As wood transforms into charcoal through the fiery furnace of a kiln, it retains its inherent integrity. Similarly, all things in life exist in a continuous state of transformation while still holding on to their essence.

In Korean culture, charcoal holds a special place as a key element in calligraphy, revered for its deep symbolic significance. Its intricacy and nuance set it apart from more conventional materials like oil paint or pastels. Charcoal’s complexity intertwines with my artistic process, evoking a sense of spirituality that guides my work as a whole.

SA: And tell me about your choice of charcoal, as it’s the base and the starting point for your creative process.

LB: In the 90s [during my early days in France], I was walking by a small shop in Paris and found a bag of charcoal for barbeque. I was surprised at the moment as I wasn’t fully aware that charcoal was easily accessible in other foreign countries as well. With my work, I typically use charcoal made from pine trees grown mainly in Korea, preferably using baeksong, a white-bark pine tree that radiates light gray/blue ash color. Moreover, Korean pine trees have a unique texture due to the vast temperature differences throughout the year. Nonetheless, I also work with other types of trees and sometimes charcoal sourced in France. All around, it’s incredibly fascinating to see the complexity of patterns, textures, and colors in each type I work with.

SA: Could you walk me through the making process?

LB: I have a kiln in my studio in Cheongdo (a county in North Gyeongsang Province, South Korea), which is also a place where I source pine trees too. Typically, these trees have a lifespan of 80-100 years, and just before their time ends, I cut the wood to begin the charcoal-making process. It’s usually done during the winter season, and this is the time when I would come back to Korea from Paris. Cold winter days are when the trees hold their fullest depth and color. Once I have the materials ready, the logs will be placed upright, waiting for the kiln to be fired. Once the fire is lit, it takes about two weeks to burn and another two weeks for the charcoal to cool down completely. It’s quite a long process.

SA: A full month!

LB: [Laughs] Yes. As everything is out of my control once I fire the kiln, I always have to keep my patience and hope for the best.

SA: One of the earlier series you began with charcoal was Issu du feu, which encompasses sculpture, installation, and painting pieces. In the two-dimensional painting works, small charcoal pieces are glued onto the canvas creating a mosaic-like pattern that highlights infinite hues and textures of charcoal within the frameworks. In comparison, the installation and sculptures seem to express dialogue within the material itself.

LB: My ultimate focus with three-dimensional works was to showcase the physical property of charcoal in the simplest way possible. French painter Paul Cézanne made a series of mountain paintings; if you think about it, the actual mountains and surroundings Cézanne perceived looked not so different from those we can all imagine. But because we encountered it through the eyes of Cézanne and his interpretation, the landscape became something extraordinary. And that’s an incredible power. So, whenever I begin sculptural or installation works, I imagine bridging the vivid imagery and energy I connect with the mountain landscapes of my hometown, Cheongdo. I experimented with tying, laying, and placing large carbonized tree trunks in various cuts while constantly challenging myself to embrace charcoal’s intrinsic beauty without letting the material lose its original form. I am balancing the harmony that essentially belongs to nature as it’s something that humankind can’t control. And I want to respect and learn from the material of my choice.

SA: While the natural surroundings are undoubtedly a remarkable aspect of Cheongdo, can you share some personal recollections of your hometown?

LB: Cheongdo is a mountainous place with only a tiny part of flat land. I grew up in the rural countryside, where technological development was extremely stagnant. I was about eight years old when we first started using electricity. Before then, my day consisted of spending hours out in the woods. My time spent in nature has shaped my life for sure. As a child, this entire landscape was my world and is still the most significant influence I cherish.

Also, in my hometown, we always celebrated Jeongwol Daeboreum. It’s a Korean holiday celebrating the first full moon night of the year in the lunar calendar. During this day, we do this ritual called Daljip Taeugi or “moon-house burning.” Basically, young male members of each household would gather together to make a “moon house” – made from giant piles of branches and sheaf. Once built, people write their wishes on mulberry paper with charcoal ink and tie them to the moon house. When the moon finally rises at night, usually the first man in town getting married that year sets the fire, and the festival begins. The next morning, a massive pile of ashes would be on the ground. These burned ashes are considered precious partly because they symbolize purity, preventing bad energy and bringing good luck. We would take these burnt charcoal ashes for various purposes in the household. Thinking back, my connection with charcoal started at a very young age.