Tina Kim Gallery presents There is no place, a solo exhibition by artist Kibong Rhee (b. Seoul, 1957).
While sculpture and installation had been Rhee’s primary method of creation prior to the 2000s, this exhibition showcases the artist’s interest in “painting as passage.” Walking into the exhibition, the viewer enters a world of strange stillness. Four large-scale paintings fill the first gallery room with beautifully crafted landscapes; trees are enveloped in a hazy mist. Human figures are absent in the works, but the otherworldly scenes feel somehow familiar. They are representations of distant and unknown vistas, yet the inclusion of natural elements such as water, light, and fog provides a recognizable sensorial understanding.
Mistygraphy (2024) is the first painting to confront you as you enter the gallery. The work sits alone on the wall, striking the viewer as monumental when being approached. Three distinct trees are depicted on the canvas, but the willowy branches in the distance become obscured by fog, giving the impression there is an entire world that we are not seeing but is there. The middle tree grows from behind the darker, shadowed tree below, rising through the mist and extending beyond the frame. Mistygraphy communicates a sense of obscurity, hinting at the hidden through what meets the eye.
Rhee places layers of transparent fabric over his paintings, playing with themes of impermanence and disappearance. His hyperrealistic representations of the natural world are bathed in shrouds of abstraction, encouraging observers to question their own perceptions. With prolonged observation, the paintings seem to conceal themselves. The closer you get, the more unfamiliar they become. Rhee embraces the contradiction of illusion and reality in his work. In a 2022 interview, Rhee stated, “The world is naturally either blurred or in a state of confusion… it is closer to the essence of life that way.” His work plays within the in-betweenness, giving a more truthful insight into the human experience, where time is both incomplete and interconnected.
In the second room, a larger space unfolds, and there emerges Mistygraphy – Cut Section 1 through 5, a five-part work hanging on two walls. Section 1 is placed on its own wall, while Sections 2–5 hang side by side on the second wall. This scene is broader than the others; the land seems flatter, and the mist has lifted enough to see the natural elements further away. A willow tree on the right dips its leaves into a small pond or river, and the water banks rise back up, showing land carpeted with smaller trees, bushes, and grasses. The thin space of white gallery wall between each section of the work highlights the representational quality of paintings—a reminder that perhaps reality and illusion are not so far apart.
The only non-painting work in this exhibition is an installation work titled Mistygraphy – Cut Section Last (2024). The piece is a clear glass screen placed in front of a black wall, situated on the far side of the gallery. The viewer’s reflection is shown on the screen, alongside the reflected images of Rhee’s paintings from the parallel wall. One becomes not only a part of the installation work but a part of the entire exhibition itself, eliciting the question: What is presence? What is absence? Whenever there is a lack, something will occupy a space of wanting. In the case of the Mistygraphy – Cut Section Last (2024), the viewer is embodied by and within an empty screen. The work questions not only our own perceptions, but also what might be found in the spaces between presence and absence.
A surprisingly darker work sets itself apart from the rest of the paintings in the exhibition. Differences – The Imprinted (2024) is a square acrylic work that, unlike the others, does not depict an immediately perceptible scene. While the polyester fiber overlaid on the canvas produces the similarly misty feel of the other grayscale paintings, what is depicted in the piece only unveil itself upon close inspection. As you approach, a thin line of trees show themselves through the bathed darkness. Rather than imagining what may be hidden beyond the mist, this work requires you to look harder, and if you do, it is reminiscent of a tree’s gestures—imprints of a forgotten landscape, as the work’s title suggests.
Samantha Jensen: What inspired the exhibition’s title, There is no place?
Kibong Rhee: The title There is no place is inspired by my long-standing exploration of the relationship between reality and illusion. The world we encounter in our daily lives is not a fixed entity; rather, it is an accumulation of images that are constantly reconfigured and reinterpreted within our perception. The act of “seeing” is not merely about passively accepting the objects in front of us; it involves the integration of countless fragments formed in our memory. In this process, reality is not truly represented but rather transformed within our consciousness into a virtual replica of an illusion. Thus, I refer to this phenomenon as the “phantom effect,” which signifies that the space we confront is not a tangible physical location but an ephemeral and unstable image created in our minds. The title There is no place emerges from this context, and it embodies my intention to visually express not the reproduction of physical spaces, but rather the fleeting memories that continuously change and dissipate within our consciousness.
SJ: Are these landscapes inspired by real places you have seen, or are they born from your imagination of what the state of in-betweenness may look like?
KR: My landscapes are not inspired by real places; rather, they are constructed from processed memories within my consciousness. Each background is an imagined fiction designed to evoke the essence of an actual space, like a stage set. My paintings consist of two layers: the canvas and the fabric I place on top of it. The empty space that forms between the first and second layers allows our perception to envision this as a space that edits the image and creates illusions. Your wording, “the state of in-betweenness,” is interesting. For me, this state manifests as a murky and dark abyss, akin to mist, which obscures the scene and invites a range of emotions and experiences. When I imagine the act of closing one’s eyes, the process reveals a continuous succession of images interspersed by darkness. These moments are interwoven with the entirety of the world and can be perceived as universally present.
Ultimately, my landscapes are not representations of specific or existing environments; they reflect and provoke questions about our inner psyche. As a result, viewers experience emotions both familiar and unfamiliar, real and unreal, which prompts profound reflections on how we perceive the world.
SJ: You began your career by focusing more on sculpture and installation-based work. Can you talk a bit about your shift from this into using painting as a “device” in your work?
KR: The exploration of the phantom effect that I previously addressed in my sculptures and installations continues to resonate in my painting practice. My installations reveal the illusory effects produced and sustained through mechanical operations, while my paintings in this exhibition are also constructed under similar operational conditions using painting as a device. When viewers engage with my paintings, the scenes appear to shift—their depths change, and mist seems to roll across the landscape—all because of the illusion caused by the one-centimeter space between the canvas and the fabric. These elements enable the painting to function not merely as a visual representation, but as a complex device that interacts with the viewer’s perception. Ultimately, I believe that the works showcased in this exhibition are not fundamentally different from my past installations; they remain interconnected within the concept of “device.”
SJ: Kang Sumi writes in Radial Aestheticism: The Beautiful, Intellectual Art of Kibong Rhee that you begin each work with a set of “completed intentions” but then allow the materials to change and metamorphosize, embracing their unpredictability as part of your artistic process. Did that play a role in There is no place?
KR: Professor Kang Sumi’s observation captures the essence of my approach. I begin each piece with a “complete intention,” but I also embrace the changes and transformations that materials undergo during the process, incorporating these shifts into my artistic journey.
My work deals with the relationship between matter and consciousness based on the assumption that materials inherently contain the potential to create illusions. In the past, I often explored materials that have liquid properties, such as water, and became fascinated by the illusory effects produced by the cyclical nature of water’s movement. This not only reflects the nature of attraction, but also the way we perceive and desire the world. The material world is, in essence, an accumulation of illusions flowing in its own direction, and this principle is applied in the exhibition.
Each material possesses its own will and characteristics, which can occasionally lead to challenges during the painting process. However, understanding and adapting to the nature of these materials has always been an essential part of my practice. The results are consistently surprising, and this interaction remains embedded in my work as a form of dialogue.
SJ:I was lucky enough to have the space to myself when viewing the exhibition, which made the viewing of Mistygraphy – Cut Section (Last) quite a profound experience. Viewing my own presence in the space through the reflected screen when I turned the gallery corner made me think about the way the work changes depending on who is perceiving it. Did you imagine the work to be experienced in a particular way? I imagine the opening night, for example, must have produced a different experience.
KR:Mistygraphy – Cut Section (Last) serves as the epilogue of the exhibition. I see this piece as a cut section of the “Theater of Consciousness.” Much like the cyclical nature of day and night, this world is a blend of two primary states: one that is bright and hazy, and another that is dark and hollow. If you imagine the act of blinking, our perception constantly experiences moments of darkness, though we rarely acknowledge it.
This dark glass piece represents that unperceived hollowness, and in a poetic sense, it always includes the viewer within the landscape. When I conceived this work, I envisioned the audience continuously interacting with the piece, their presence naturally becoming a part of the installation. The moment a viewer discovers their reflection on the glass screen, they become aware of their presence within the space, which is a crucial aspect of the piece. The work is not static but constantly changes depending on the viewer’s gaze, offering a simultaneous experience of presence and absence.
During the opening reception, because of the amount of people in the gallery, the overlapping gazes likely created a different kind of experience. While a quiet, personal experience is more pronounced when fewer people are present. A more complex interaction emerges when other viewers’ movements and perspectives blend with the piece. Like my other works, Mistygraphy – Cut Section (Last) explores the essence of existence beyond fixed forms and uses elements that lack inherent shape, like water and mist. I hope that viewers become a part of the work, their presence subtly merging with the piece, allowing it to be completed at that moment.
—Samantha Jensen
