Lee Bae’s work begins with the residue of fire: the ‘charcoal’. Charcoal is the substance left when flames extinguish, yet within it remains the condensed trace of heat and time. The artist sees in that residue the energy of life and an inner light. “Working with charcoal is not simply using a material, but dealing with the essence left when life has burned,” he says.

Na Kyung-soo’s images always begin with the act of making. Her work is less about drawing and more about a kind of structural experiment—a material event born from the encounter of line, color, paper, and ink. The pressure of her hands, the spread of pigment, and the texture of paper operate as a language of their own, one that crosses the boundaries between painting, craft, printmaking, and design. Na is not so much a draughtswoman as a craftsperson who refines images through touch and repetition.

Lacquer is a quiet record of time. The raw sap extracted from the lacquer tree absorbs not only the brush and the artisan’s hand, but also light, air, and the slow accumulation of time itself. When light settles upon wood, it deepens along the grain of years. Lacquer is not a mere material—it is an art of layers built from patience, human touch, and time.

Korean lacquer artist Sojung Pyeon translates this silent process into a language of contemporary sensibility. Her work reveals the material and emotional depth of lacquer, transforming it from a craft into an art form that contains time itself. Each of her objects embodies the tension between tradition and modernity, matter and emotion—painted landscapes of color shaped by the passage of years.

Trained in metalcraft and Oriental painting, Pyeon earned certification as a Cultural Heritage Restoration Technician (漆匠, Chiljang), grounding her work in the discipline of traditional Korean lacquer craft. Her approach extends beyond revival: she overlays traditional technique with modern perception, expanding lacquer’s presence from utilitarian tableware to spatial art objects. What emerges from her hands is not just craft, but a form of living art—objects that hold and reflect time.

Flowers wilt eventually. Yet some transform that very moment of withering into an “art of remembrance.”

The artist Nanan draws what she calls “flowers that never wither,” exploring how gifts, memory, and emotion can linger far beyond their physical form. Her signature series, Long Long Time Flower, unfolds from the concept of “gifting memory,” showing how personal emotions and recollections can expand into shared experiences. Her flowers are not mere painted forms but emotional devices that mediate relationships between people.

Before her works, some weep, others smile. In the oscillation of these emotional intensities, Nanan proves that art is not merely a “viewed object” but a co-created experience.

When the city lights fade and only darkness remains, Lee Seok remembers the landscape. His practice begins in that fragile moment — between disappearance and perception — where light becomes a language to re-see the world. Lee does not use technology to replicate nature. Rather, he uses it to ask a deeper question: How do we, as humans, perceive nature?

For him, the frame is not a screen but a threshold — a sensorial hinge where nature and human perception meet. “Once a frame is erected, a door opens between nature and humanity,” he says. Across his works, the frame becomes both a lens and a mirror, urging viewers to recognize their own position within the landscape they observe.

Since his first media performance at MAXXI – National Museum of 21st Century Arts, Rome (2015), Lee has continuously expanded his stage beyond museum walls — toward public architecture and heritage landscapes. His light has illuminated spaces such as the PyeongChang Olympic Memorial Hall (2021), Daereungwon Nocturne in Gyeongju (2023), and Transcendence at the Korean Cultural Center in Buenos Aires (2024, co-organized with the Cultural Heritage Administration of Korea). Through these works, his art moves steadily from image to site, from representation to experience.

Clay does not speak, yet within it, time leaves its trace.

Korean ceramic artist Huh Sangwook, known for reinterpreting the traditional Buncheong technique, transforms this silent passage of time into form. The Buncheong he shapes is more than a vessel; it is a living surface — its carved lines, subtle fissures, and contrasts of silver and cobalt revealing a dialogue between time and material.

Building upon the traditional bakji (incised slip) technique and enriching it with silver inlay, cobalt-blue (cheonghwa), and iron-brown (cheolhwa) decoration, Huh bridges tradition and contemporaneity. In his hands, Buncheong becomes not a static object but a breathing narrative — one that responds to light, space, and the slow rhythm of change.