With Winds 1991

Curator: Well, if this isn’t calming, I don’t know what is! Lee Ufan’s, "With Winds", crafted in 1991 with acrylic paint, seems to breathe. What strikes you initially? Editor: It’s hushed, almost a whisper. A field of snowy static, with just the faintest hints of something… stirring. The strokes themselves look like shorthand – as though we are meant to interpret, rather than simply look. They're glyphs of a lost language. Curator: Lost language indeed. Ufan, part of the Dansaekhwa movement, was all about restraint. It's fascinating how such minimal gestures can feel so expressive, right? The repetition… it's almost meditative, isn’t it? I feel like I'm gazing into a Zen garden after a light snowfall. Editor: Exactly! Snowfall carries specific weight: Purity. Loss. Absence. The painting doesn't scream at you. It invites contemplation, forcing you to confront what you bring to it. Are those winds internal, emotional? Or echoes of historical turbulence? Curator: Oh, that’s beautiful. Turbulence echoed through stillness… Ufan used painting as a dialogue with the void, the space between things. These brushstrokes aren't objects in themselves but evidence of an interaction, like footprints in snow. Editor: Footprints are also the markings of transient presences… Think of those minimalist calligraphic marks that seem like attempts to capture movement and transience with a single breath. This isn't just abstract; it's elemental, tapping into the primal human need to find meaning in the patterns around us. Curator: And there's a profound beauty in that seeking, isn’t there? A willingness to embrace uncertainty, to see the world as a field of potential rather than a fixed landscape. "With Winds" whispers an invitation, urging us to slow down, look closer, and listen to the unseen currents that shape our lives. Editor: Indeed, that sense of open-ended possibility…It resists definition. It’s what allows it to speak differently to each of us. To hold memory and potential for generations to come.