Imagine a painting that isn't quite a painting, but a thought. That's the world of Joeun Kim Aatchim, whose art feels like looking through a memory — vivid, yet always just out of reach. She calls her creations "drawings," despite the fact they're definitely painted. Her lines are sharp, but the images themselves seem to glow, then fade, like a half-remembered dream.
The Art of the Almost There
Aatchim's secret sauce? Mineral pigment in shellac, sometimes with a dash of watercolor or pastel, all applied to delicate layers of silk stretched over frames. This setup allows the wall behind to peek through, making each piece a literal window into another image. It's not about different subjects, but different versions of the same subject, stacked on top of each other. Think of it like Henri Matisse, who'd repaint parts of his work to explore multiple ideas for a single scene, just a bit more... translucent.
She describes her technique as layering "first drafts." "Rather than working on a piece over and over to make it perfect, I can keep my first thought," she mused. The result is a collection of ideas that find their perfect resolution in their very unfinished state. And the "drawing" label? It's because she sees her work as "a thought in progress." If a material doesn't completely cover the surface, she argues, it's a drawing. Simple as that.
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Start Your News DetoxThis Korean-born artist has been busy since her Columbia MFA in 2017 (a suggestion from her former assistant-gig boss, Kiki Smith, no less). She's had solo shows popping up in New York, Los Angeles, Guadalajara, Seoul, and Madrid. São Paulo is next on the list. Because apparently, that's where we are now.
Speaking from Seoul, where she was visiting family, Aatchim admitted she's not great at resting. Hobbies? None. "I started thinking, maybe I’m nobody if I’m not making art," she confessed. So, naturally, she started creating in the dining room. Also, her preferred art supplies are easier to find in Korea than NYC, which, if you think about it, is both practical and slightly poetic.
Her true medium, though, might just be memory. She sees her incredibly sharp recall as both a gift and a burden. "Memories I haven’t drawn yet keep lingering in my head, and have to be stored somewhere," she explained. Storing them, she believes, makes room for new ones. Which perfectly explains why her layered portraits of friends and everyday observations are so clear, yet so wonderfully intangible. Memories, after all, are just thoughts that keep evolving.
