Light, on the verge of turning transparent, or so dense that it almost resembles a solid surface, a delicate grid of horizontal lines occupies, methodically, the paintings of Oan Kyu. A faint sign, moving across the entire sheet of paper, from left to right, repeating itself in a vertical, uniform, logical order until it totally fills the space: this is the linguistic material used by the artist. It is an elementary, minimal material, fruit of a "logical" approach to the problem of painting. What counts, what establishes the image of the work, is the construction, the search for an analytical dimension of artistic activity which bans any temptation to engage in expression or depiction, aiming instead at a sort of formulation of the language clearly connected with writing. It may be the very materials the artist uses, the same ones employed by calligraphers in her native land of Korea, meaning the ink sticks ground with ritual gestures, the thick-handled brushes with their narrow tips, the fibrous, higly absorbent paper, but one gets the distinct sensation, when viewing these works, that the scriptural element has become fully integrated with the pictorial act. And this is true even when there is no analogy of signs or calling up of images. Oan Kyu has worked her way back to writing through the same constructive logic cited earlier. The analytical organization of the surface takes shape through the constant presence of a sign which moves across the sheet, thickening into stains at certain points, practically fading away in others. The work is generated through a lengthy, patient process. The brush moves along, the hand guides it, the paper absorbs the ink: this is how the page is produced, in the same way as copyists composed their sheets in the monasteries of centuries past.
Writing is an act, an inclination of the spirit, which lies beyond any verbal evidence or iconographic reference. Oan Kyu refers to a writing earlier than writing, an originary place which is also a vital source for painting, meaning the act itself. Indeed, the initial impression of an underlying analytic construction gradually diminishes the more familiar one becomes with the work. It remains in the form of a rigorous foundation on which to model the rythm of the act of painting, the movement of the hand, lending it all a flavor of exalted musical lyricism. The contrast between airy lightness and density which served as a starting point represents the phenomenological constant of this pictorial writing. As the surface is gradually covered, there emerge oblique, transversal textures woven by the sign which, in the process of reproduction, seems to discover unsettling irregularities, small tensions in the image, and complies with them.
The writing is thus transformed into a musical composition, a score with no limits for a music beyond sound. Or, else, it very clearly reminds the warp of a loom. The light, immaterial nature of Oan Kyu's painting is matched only by the intense craft with which she constructs her work. As much does it possess a fleeting musical quality as it is firmly anchored to a sound technique in its making.
Lorenzo Mango
MINIMUM VARIATIONS
Having met with Oan Kyu in more than one occasion, each time I have been able to perceive her minimum variations, her continuous procedure by subtle differences. I have followed her work with attention for a good number of years, listening to her inexhaustible questions, her recounting of voyages beyond horizons. Each time I observe her images, her "unreadable texts", her state of mind, I discover that she has undertaken possibilities that are almost invisible but, in the end, determining. It is a course of operation that can be intended as a complex itinerary in which each living act is reflected. Oan Kyu uses few words, striking one by her knowledge and memory that feeds and guards her existence, never conforming to an easy convenience, always choosing the most difficult path. Her discourse regarding her work becomes tense and stretched; infinite strata become concentrated and then liberate uneasiness, convictions, and surprises.
These are only traced horizons in which every accentuated or lightened emotional pressure is only slightly revealed and shown, each motivation is barely indicated. Lines that are protected from one extremity to another on the surface as pulled threads disposed as a balancing act, that can never renounce a life that is not in continuous balance. "The tightrope walker is a solitary art, and it is a way of confronting one's own life, inside the most secret part of oneself, in the very human search for perfection ... anyone who has tried to do anything better, making personal sacrifices for an art, an idea, will have no difficulty understanding."
The sense of emptiness has no fear for the absence of material: it becomes, on the other hand, a space of maximum respiration, a zone of imagination and freedom, limitless possibility of movement. No stranger to the elaboration of the image is the ritual secret of the work's predisposition. The artist chooses her instruments, her sheets of paper, seeking each time a different light; large and small pages invade the studio. Beneath all this are hidden images that are immediate and instinctive; others more meditative, with a constant concentration even at their lightest. There is a sense of forewarned completion and at the same time an absence of confinement. As the levels multiply, they stratify surprises, they come apart and come together again.
So the lightest pages where the traces are barely seen alternate with others in black on black density or with exasperated contrasts over the surface, soft works contrasted with those of maximum tension. The signs deeply mark the projected screen, leaving behind indelible imprints. As the cable of the tightrope walker must continually maintain a basic elasticity, conceding only the minimum necessary for each step, thus in the works of Oan Kyu one never finds rigid segments but limpid waving, vibrations of improvised thoughts that act as a magnet for our regard, they are the details of a surface that is extremely seductive, where everything is spoken in silence of deep respect, extremely rare, uncommon today.
Elsa Nelter