Artist Statement
In April of 1986, I was working with paraffin which overheated and 40% of my body was burned.
After graduating from a woman’s university and majoring in embroidery, I had always dreamed of being married, being the best wife and a mother and working on my art. It had only been a year, after giving birth to my two children, that I was finally living the life that I had dreamed of, reconnecting with the artist within me.
A year, and my whole body was burned and I was looking at death, face to face. I changed.
Is there an afterlife? Was there a life before this? Why was I here? Are these worlds connected?
My children can continue their life, live and grow even after I die, but my work stops the moment I stop living. This led me to constantly think and worry about my work which is completely dependent on me.
The doctors told me that I would not be able to use my right hand. Forever. In those hours of despair, all I could do was pray.
Then one day, I met Jesus in my dream and He sent 5 bright rays of light onto my fingers. I decided not to believe in the doctors and underwent 8 surgeries and 3 years of rehabilitation. Every living moment was agony, but slowly, my fingers started to move. Although still numb, they were moving and the doctors told me it was a miracle
The fact that I was able to move my fingers again was a newly acquired skill. I started to work on projects that constantly kept my fingers working. The first artwork from my new life was called ‘Body and Soul’ (1989) and was my first installation art. In the project, I used UV light, to introduce the many souls I had encountered at the doorsteps of death. I wanted my small existence to be known and came up with a 10 meter installation work, The ‘Waiting Soul’ (1994) followed by ‘Umbilical Cord’ (1994), The ‘Lost Embryo’ (1999), all to express life.
Thread is like blood vessels to me.
Untangling of the thread on a reel and dream-like images seen under the darkened UV light speak of my life. Amongst critics who ridiculed my works as a rendezvous of plastic pieces and fluorescence underneath a disco light, I persisted my storytelling.
After graduating from a woman’s university and majoring in embroidery, I had always dreamed of being married, being the best wife and a mother and working on my art. It had only been a year, after giving birth to my two children, that I was finally living the life that I had dreamed of, reconnecting with the artist within me.
A year, and my whole body was burned and I was looking at death, face to face. I changed.
Is there an afterlife? Was there a life before this? Why was I here? Are these worlds connected?
My children can continue their life, live and grow even after I die, but my work stops the moment I stop living. This led me to constantly think and worry about my work which is completely dependent on me.
The doctors told me that I would not be able to use my right hand. Forever. In those hours of despair, all I could do was pray.
Then one day, I met Jesus in my dream and He sent 5 bright rays of light onto my fingers. I decided not to believe in the doctors and underwent 8 surgeries and 3 years of rehabilitation. Every living moment was agony, but slowly, my fingers started to move. Although still numb, they were moving and the doctors told me it was a miracle
The fact that I was able to move my fingers again was a newly acquired skill. I started to work on projects that constantly kept my fingers working. The first artwork from my new life was called ‘Body and Soul’ (1989) and was my first installation art. In the project, I used UV light, to introduce the many souls I had encountered at the doorsteps of death. I wanted my small existence to be known and came up with a 10 meter installation work, The ‘Waiting Soul’ (1994) followed by ‘Umbilical Cord’ (1994), The ‘Lost Embryo’ (1999), all to express life.
Thread is like blood vessels to me.
Untangling of the thread on a reel and dream-like images seen under the darkened UV light speak of my life. Amongst critics who ridiculed my works as a rendezvous of plastic pieces and fluorescence underneath a disco light, I persisted my storytelling.
In 2010, my father passed away without ever having heard of his children in the north. In my next exhibition, I made an installation at DMZ that included all the vowels and consonants of the names of separated families, to appease my father’s wounded soul.
I started looking deeper within. Hurt from the loved ones doesn’t always start with something as grandiose as war. It can start with a simple misunderstanding, but the pain is as real and as damaging, if not more. Although close in proximity, there are many families who are cut off from one another.
To me, Yarn is the thread that connects what has been separated, for a more hopeful tomorrow.
I sincerely desire that my work with yarn may send a message of comfort, of understanding, and of peace.
Stories
My work began with textile arts but has expanded to installations, mainly incorporating diverse media such as fiber, polyester, and black lighting. While preparing for my first exhibit in 1986, I sustained extensive skin burns on my face and body after an explosion of hot paraffin, the medium I was using. Despite the tortuous rehabilitation, I could not stop creating my art and representations of life force. Thin fluorescent threads pass every corner of my artwork, such as Umbilical Cords, Lost Embryo and Life.
After I relocated to Germany, my longing for human relations led me to create the installation work Vanished Berlin Wall in 2007 at the Brandenburg Gate—a symbol of German reunification. This illuminated piece included the names of 5,000 Korean separated family members and drew the attention without German language proficiency, this installation was realized and inspired through my artistic desire and direction.
After I relocated to Germany, my longing for human relations led me to create the installation work Vanished Berlin Wall in 2007 at the Brandenburg Gate—a symbol of German reunification. This illuminated piece included the names of 5,000 Korean separated family members and drew the attention without German language proficiency, this installation was realized and inspired through my artistic desire and direction.
family in South Korea
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The year 2013 marked the 60th anniversary of the end of Korean War. As an artist who has step brothers and sisters in North Korea, I installed and performed Calling out Names of Families Separated during the Korean War at the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) in the city of Paju. I sent a message of peaceful reunification with light to the world. The project included the names and stories of families separated at the Civilian Control Line. I create at least 100 meters of transparent polyester letters laminated with neon threads and fibers that are lit up with ultraviolent black lighting. Through my works dealing with unwanted separation, division by ideology, and the life and death of families that live on the other side of Korean Peninsula, people have shed tears and pondered the meaning of family and nation.
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Exhibitions & Criticism
Shaping of the Unknown and the Significance of the Insignificant (Jang, Kyung-Hwa - Gwangju Art Chief Curator, 2003)
Fiber art owes its origin to the study of textiles. With the development of materials came the evolvement of diverse concepts, and since the 1960s many artists were found active in this sector. Today, fiber art is an integral part of modern art.
Lee, Eunsook began her study in the fiber arts during this time. While preparing for her first exhibition in 1986, she sustained a severe burn on her face and arm, undergoing eight operations with the possibility of permanently losing the use of her right hand. She recalls this period as one of the darkest yet most productive of years as this was the time she contemplated death. Her works reflect pain and growth from the challenges she had faced both personally and professionally.
Lee, Eunsook began her study in the fiber arts during this time. While preparing for her first exhibition in 1986, she sustained a severe burn on her face and arm, undergoing eight operations with the possibility of permanently losing the use of her right hand. She recalls this period as one of the darkest yet most productive of years as this was the time she contemplated death. Her works reflect pain and growth from the challenges she had faced both personally and professionally.
Lee's work first came to my attention in the 1990 exhibition, which marked a deviation from her earlier works. Her use of materials and the scale of her work progressed to incorporate the use of space. "What is the Mu Mu Mu.." was an experimental approach in fiber arts with its new technique in production, installation and use of light. She employed the traditional Asian variegation to create western alphabet, suggesting the meeting and clashing of two civilizations and the emanating of a new kind energy.
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The "Waiting Soul" (1994) is a large-scale construction. Upon exhibition, this work transforms an anonymous space into a space of order and chaos in harmonious coexistence. The hand-woven construct of polyester films is reminiscent of a cave found in nature which stimulates our imagination. This exhibition successfully demonstrated her originality and her understanding of the material she chose to use. |
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The "umbilical Cord" (1996) is an ensemble of cords hand-woven with strips of polyester films, neon threads and various fabrics, and is accompanied by the sound of heartbeat. The cords can only be viewed indoors with fluorescent lighting, and are arranged on the floor for viewers to freely interact with. Unlike what the name may suggest, the cords emit an aura of mystery along with lively energy. With the sound of fetal heartbeat, the symbolic womb generates an urge to explore the sublime within one's subconscious.
Lee's project is a culmination of repeated manual labor through which she shapes the unknown world; it is a meditation of life and death, anda quest for what lies beyond. She uses tangible shapes, such as the alphabets and the numbers, to convey messages from the subconscious to a world in which value is measured by numbers. Furthermore, she questions the significance of worldly accomplishments from the perspective of what lies beyond-directing our attention to examine their insignificance.
Lee's recent works integrate the use of neon fabrics, lighting and acoustic, the tools by which she communicates with her inner self. Her unrestrained creativity enhances the language of expression, enabling her to articulate her concerns in her work. She is a prolific artist in whom I expect continued growth and development |
Dematerialized Fantasy Space
Park, Rea-Kyung - Art Critic, 1994
Eunsook Lee's work is a process of interpreting her world in her own terms by creating order from disorder. Her works conjure up a fantasy by adding the fluorescent material to the main subject of fabric such as cotton thread and play into the needs of people who are entangled in the modern complexity and long for an escape. Twisting, unthreading and hanging loose things and cords, are the typical of hand work of weaving the artist's mind into a story.
Recently some people adopt a variety of mass-produced fabric materials as their main subject and weave or hang them by hand. Lee's work is also part of this trend.
There might be some difference in the degree and the scale, but people are often infatuated by this kind of hand work largely because dynamic and rhythmic entwining and hanging of thread and hempen brings life to the non-lively materials.
Lee has tried many approaches to her object. Her latest one, though , is to unthread coloured cotton thread or white cord on a skein of thread and plaster them on the polyester film and then weave this newly created material into thin or thick strings. This seemingly boring and aimless work of putting the unending threads onto the film, cutting it into new fabric cords and weaving and twisting them creates a totally new formative art. This is exactly what Lee does nowadays. She is fascinated with fashioning a dematerialized fantasy world by affording order to the chaotic threads in her hands. She also indulges herself in amplifying the fantasy effect with lighting project on the transparent polyester film entwined with fluorescent color threads. This shows her innocent imaginary world that is the reminder of virgin woods and caves of the timeless myth or fairy tales.
Recently some people adopt a variety of mass-produced fabric materials as their main subject and weave or hang them by hand. Lee's work is also part of this trend.
There might be some difference in the degree and the scale, but people are often infatuated by this kind of hand work largely because dynamic and rhythmic entwining and hanging of thread and hempen brings life to the non-lively materials.
Lee has tried many approaches to her object. Her latest one, though , is to unthread coloured cotton thread or white cord on a skein of thread and plaster them on the polyester film and then weave this newly created material into thin or thick strings. This seemingly boring and aimless work of putting the unending threads onto the film, cutting it into new fabric cords and weaving and twisting them creates a totally new formative art. This is exactly what Lee does nowadays. She is fascinated with fashioning a dematerialized fantasy world by affording order to the chaotic threads in her hands. She also indulges herself in amplifying the fantasy effect with lighting project on the transparent polyester film entwined with fluorescent color threads. This shows her innocent imaginary world that is the reminder of virgin woods and caves of the timeless myth or fairy tales.
In the Light of Healing
Lee, Julie Jung-sil - Art Critics, 2013
As an installation artist, Eunsook Lee grafted commemorative narratives of wartime soldiers and victims onto a challenging and sensory, contemporary art form. Motivated by the tragedies of her own family history—her father left his family in North Korea and later passed away without ever having a chance to reunite with them—Lee has sought to engage in the collective and personal sense of wartime trauma. Sad wartime stories continue to be handed down by communities of survivors, firsthand witnesses, and subsequent generations. As a reminder of the sorrow of separated families, she exhibited her light art, Vanished Berlin Wall in Berlin and Separated Names at the DMZ in Korea. Now, she installs a message of peace in Washington, D.C. to promote the dignity of life and these stories’ continuation and connection in our memories.
Lee’s work aims to inspire the audience, especially future generations, and to create empathy with the pain of wartime victims. She hopes to reunify separated families not only in North and South Korea, but also those displaced by conflicts around the world. In her search for healing of her own personal trauma—afflicted by her family situation and by an injury while creating her works—she collected photographs of wartime victims, including women who were once kidnapped or trafficked into sexual slavery yet whose souls survived with dignity. They radiate like bright stars in her works.
Lee suggests artistic healing through overlapping fragments of history. Her artistic tools include polyester, archived photographs, fluorescent threads, and black lighting. Umbilical Cords is an exceptional installation made of hand-woven cords, strips of polyester film, neon threads, and black lights accompanied by the sound of a heartbeat. Lee’s projects require painstaking manual fabrication and the collaboration of other hands, a process in which the artist and participants can meditate and better grasp the meaning of life and the importance of connections among people.
