1. The moon-jar (spelt as dalhangari in Korean), roundish and bulging in the middle, was named after its resemblance to the shape of the moon. It reminds you of the image of a full moon up afloat in the dark night sky on the first full moon day of the lunar calendar. The circular disk, as time goes by, is fated to be asymmetrical with one corner of it receding and tapering dint by dint. There could have been, I presume, a remote association between the unbalanced and plump form of the moon and the shape of a pot; the naming came from a sort of emotional response. The moon-jar, having been descended from the Chosun Dynasty does not have a perfectly circular appearance, which is rather different from its Chinese or Japanese counterpart. The Chinese or Japanese porcelains have different colours, whereas most of Chosun’s pots are white in colour. They have a mien similar to Chosun’s women dressed in their white garments; naïve and virtuous. Choi Young Wook has been painting the Chosun’s moon-jar for quite a number of years. The image of the moon-jar almost fills up the whole canvas, which at a glance, looks as if the painter executed it using a hyperrealistic technique. This is why some viewers or critics are quick to categorize his work as a hyperrealism, but this interpretation is wrong. His work is not an objective representation of the image in a hyperrealistic style, but is rather, inclined to be subjective. The depiction of the image of the moon-jar is merely dressed in the style of figurative description. The only critical criterion that is summoned to interpreting his work as hyperrealistic is the reference to the description of the surface cracks on the pot, and this stems from the misunderstanding that the image of hairline cracks on the glazed porcelain surface represents the real fissure on the surface.

2. If so, what are the artist’s surface cracks referring to? What kind of thought did he have in mind while he meticulously drew the fine cracks of the jar surface? In order to answer these queries, it is necessary to re-examine and go back to his earlier works. I was fortunate enough to be asked to write a catalogue essay for his second solo exhibition in 1996 and I feel obliged to briefly mention this issue centring on this critical misconception. For the show in 1996, he exhibited works that were mainly coloured in white and hues of grey. There were faint images of ordinary subjects such as birds, chairs, people, wild flowers, a piano, or grapes drawn against the backdrop. As a whole, the pictorial ambience felt as if the artist himself was having a conversation with the depicted subjects. It intoned his sensibility in a subdued voice. I was compelled to write as follows: “The encountering of Choi Young Wook’s works eventually means to submerge – to sink through and into his inner self. In other words, it is to apprehend the inside of an individual, a concrete form with mass and volume, through the delivering of an unfamiliar object. At this point, a piece of completed painting becomes a conduit to understanding and a clue to accessing the individual object. The figures, signs and symbols described on the canvas are the indispensible resources for comprehending the inner soul.” As written in this preface of mine, Choi Young Wook is a type of artist who talks to himself – it is perhaps constitutional. From the early years until recent times, he has been constantly engaged with his work based on this artistic constitution. To him, drawing the images of subjects on a whitish or greyish base signifies a symbolization of experiences in a condensed manner. For what does the artist do such codification, and what kind of meaning does it convey to the artist himself or to the society?

3. Prior to the issue in question, one needs to pay attention to the title of his work: Karma. The word, translated to yeon (緣, bond) in Korean, or up (業, action or deeds to bring good or bad results) in Buddhist connotations, is a metaphorical take of the human life. The relations and bonds entangled like a skein of threads among human beings deliver karma, and karma endlessly circulates – this is the kernel of the ‘yeonki (緣起) theory’ (the principle regarding the creation and extinction of all things in the universe) of Buddhism. This notion of ‘yeonki theory’ is employed behind Choi Young Wook’s action to draw the fine cracked lines that form a connected network. To quote his own words: “I drew every single line of the moon-jar, and it is not merely an expression of surface cracks of the porcelain. In life, we meet and separate, and meet again somewhere else: I wanted to express such journey of life. This is why I titled it ‘Karma’. Our life is never lived as it was intended to. I sometimes think that there is a presence of destiny. The lines are the expression of destiny, yeon (緣), or karma. All those long and tedious hours I spent on drawing lines were when I thought of my own yeon, karma.” Choi Young Wook’s behaviour in painting is synonymous to the concept of cultivating or disciplining – something that is seen in many of Korean Monochrome Painting (Dansaekhwa) artists. If it is not so, there is no other possible way to explain his undergoing of such a strenuous task as his artistic labour: he applies layers of various nuances of white onto the canvas and makes up the shape of the moon-jar as if the form seems to be slightly emerging from the background, then finally draws a multitude of fine lines. His painting action is a gesture for seeking the truth, and ultimately, a struggle for self-liberation. It is a gesture trying to move towards zenith, similar to the state of nirvana. However, it is not a religious effort but rather an artistic ritual; it has a different dimension and it is more humane. He spends a remarkable amount of time on painting, and faces an avalanche of distracting thoughts, which indicates that his action is only something very human and not of religious or spiritual origin – he is only an artist. Thus, his purely artistic deed is miles away from undergoing spiritual training. The creating of countless fissure lines on the neatly prepared field of white glaze is a metaphor of life, and at the same time a kind of sign. It is akin to an abridged secret code. On the part of the viewers, it takes imagination to decrypt it, let alone to have the empathy to be able to susceptibly identify it with the viewers’ own life. It has a rhizomatous structure stretching out into all directions, proliferating rigorously.

4. It is none other than a paradox that this rhizomatous feature of Choi Young Wook’s works, thoroughly grounded on the mode of an analogue display, is comparable to the mode of existence in the era of a digitalized civilization. Just like Jake’s remark from the film ‘Avatar’, “A billion trees belong to one giant tree”, the immeasurable thin lines in Choi Young Wook’s works visualize the unseen lines of connection in the domain of the social network Facebook. The invisible network of individual profiles amounting to nearly 900,000,000 reminds you of Choi Young Wook’s cracks; it is virtual yet real. Any meeting on Facebook can be made into a reality. Your action to press the button ‘like’ in regards to any statement or opinion that appears in cyberspace, is definitely a real action. There are also various kinds of emotion involved in cyber-actions, such as pleasure, cheering, love, rage, jealousy and hatred. Accompanied by such varying realistic emotions, friends of Facebook attempt to communicate with one another in the borderless cyberspace. There, the difference of skin colour, religion, or ethnicity does not exist. Once they mutually agree to be friends, the communication starts right away even if there is a certain language barrier between them. It is similar to the flowing river: all kinds of different information loaded on Facebook flows and runs like water in real-time. It is an excellent image of life in the figurative sense.

5. Choi Young Wook emphatically said that his paintings were a medium for communication. A form of art involves someone who has created it and someone who will appreciate it, and the potential of an interactive communication is built in it. The interaction between an artwork and a viewer is not a patent on the media art relying on a directly responsive method. The interactive experience is possible even in the genre of paintings made by even the analogue method in Choi Young Wook’s work. For instance, when he looks back upon his own life, connecting the lines of the entire web, those who have the ability to grasp the grammar of the artwork will similarly project their own life onto his painting. The artist says: “What I hope is that those looking at my painting will think of their own stories and will be able to understand and communicate with people who are entangled in their own life.” “It is the path of our life. [I am not intending to] represent the realistic image of cracks on the porcelain surface. Those lines that I depict split, converge, cut off and meet again at some point. Likewise, in our life, we meet, leave each other, and we are alike yet arguably different, and we can be unified into one, even if we are somewhat different.” The cracks of the moon-jar is just as much of a symbol for the epitome of life, as a mere aesthetic object to be appreciated. Here is where the charm and ambiguousness of his moon-jar paintings pulsates. The image of the moon-jar at once not only emanates a traditional sense of beauty but a modern one as well. This inclusive aura comes from the colour, subject matter and form. The spectrum of elegant colours ranging from milky white to subtle white, variable grey and black, embodied on the traditional moon-jar, is the crystallization of the perseverance of Chosun potters. Whilst Choi Young Wook puts one foot into tradition, he is also committed to unravel the traditional beauty as something contemporary through the medium of painting. Upon observing his paintings from the technical aspect, there is a kind of optical trick hidden in his work. On the protruding part of the jar either includes a dab of shadow or an image of a traditional landscape, only to make it look genuinely real. Due to this element, the surface cracks provoke the viewers to have illusory feelings of believing them to be real, another reason why his works often come under the rubric of hyperrealism.

6. The image of the moon-jar has recently become more flat and minimal. The moon-jar has been losing its plump and bulging attributes and the changed features accentuates the flatness even more. At the same time, the hairline cracks spread all over the surface of the jar, and in proportion with the expansion of fine lines, the distinctiveness of the shape of the jar is lessened. Although taking such course may be seen as a minute change, he seems to be advancing towards a certain climax. He will eventually reach ground zero, except I cannot guess when it will be. However, it appears obvious that there is an analogy of life in his work, and he is gradually making the thin mesh of fissures bigger in the similar way as his own life is proceeding: it is a piecemeal procedure in which the facets of one’s life, central or minor, are entwined with those of others, weaving a skein of bond and connection – an endless journey towards ground zero.