When artist Lee ShinJa was born in 1930 in Uljin, Korea, during a period of Japanese colonial rule, textile traditions were largely rooted in domestic uses and craft. But for Lee, who took in her mother’s and grandmother’s lessons in sewing and weaving, fiber proved to be a material of experimentation and innovation.
Weaving the Dawn, the artist’s New York debut at Tina Kim Gallery, showcases several decades’ worth of tapestries that challenge the boundaries of the art form. On view are preliminary sketches, research, and works that highlight the evolution of her techniques and style. Early pieces like “Image of City” punctuate smooth cotton cloth with patches of loose, meandering threads in neutral tones, while later works like “Spirit of Mountain” are rendered in full color. A bright turquoise sky spans the tapestry with monumental landforms rising in the foreground. Part of a larger series evoking the topography of Lee’s hometown, the piece emerged from a desire to capture the unparalleled beauty of her birthplace. The artist explained:
Growing up in a rural area, I vividly remember the intense sunlight at sunrise and sunset. I have cherished memories of climbing mountains with my father every morning to witness these moments. The sunlight rising from the East Sea left a lasting impression on me. I have always believed in creating nature as I see it. However, I still feel that my work has yet to match the beauty of my hometown.
Lee is often lauded for her technical innovation and commitment to exploring the possibilities of fiber. The aforementioned “Image of City” is one such example. “She unraveled the plain weave of the base fabric and twisted subtly colored threads to the loosened ones to create a structural tension previously unseen in traditional textiles,” a statement from the gallery says.
In addition to her inventive approaches, Lee also introduced unconventional materials, including thin metal dowels that bisect abstract landscapes and geometric forms in works like “Hope.” She also incorporated burlap sacks and unraveled wool sweaters, a practice she developed while studying at Seoul National University in 1955 while Korea was recovering from the war. “I love creating new things, and there were no teachers to learn from at university, so I worked independently,” Lee told Artsy. “I wanted to do something different from what others were doing. The establishment of textiles as an academic field in Korea didn’t come until much later.”
Given her autobiographical subject matter—which includes the landscapes of her childhood and also her responses to her husband, the painter Jan Woonsang, being credited with making her early work—Lee’s tapestries can be read as a feminist infusion of personal experience and critique. That she’s helped to garner art-world recognition for what’s long been considered a domestic craft firmly secures her place among 20th-century pioneering women artists.
Weaving the Dawn runs through September 28.
—Grace Ebert
