Lot 747: Park Seo-Bo , B. 1931 Ecriture No. 060222 mixed media with Korean paper on canvas

signed in English on the reverse executed in 2006 mixed media with Korean paper on canvas

measurements note 160 by 260 cm.; 63 by 102 3/8 in.

Cabinet des Dessins: Park Seo-Bo, Musée d'Art Moderne de Saint-Étienne Métropole, Saint-Étienne, France, 2006, illustrated on the cover and p. 30

Gallery Samtuh, Seoul
Acquired directly from the above by the current owner

Korean master painter Park Seo-Bo creates eloquent studies in paint that might appear to be minimalistic or rigidly ordered at first glance, but in reality are anything but. From afar, Park's often-times massive canvases seem to be straight-forward studies in line and form. His colour palette ranges from monochrome grays to vivid colors, and the work included here, Ecriture No. 060222 from 2002, combines both elements in its vermillion rows of line against gray ground. As one nears the work, he soon realizes that Park's repetitive linear markings are not simply flat against the picture plane, for in fact, each line is a three-dimensional accumulation of remarkably thin paint that grows out from the canvas like a delicate shard of silica. As the viewer moves to the side for a raking view of the work, he instantly finds that a wholly new landscape of sorts emerges from the work: a hidden discovery that holds elements of both trompe l'oeil visual deceit and the sculptural application of paint. For decades and since the height of the Korean War in the early 1950s, Park has experimented with paint and its limitations. His work is just as influenced by Western Minimalism as it is by Buddhist theology and Korean tradition. Although not readily apparent, the straight rectangular forms in his works are not references to Albers or Judd's rigorous geometries, but instead grow out of the view from Park's Seoul studio set along the banks of a flowing river, a bridge just beyond. For Park, his rectangular forms are simply a nod to the columns that support the bridge that he looks at every day, and by extension, we may begin to read his precarious paint-ridges as ripples of water flowing past man-made supports. With this new knowledge, Park's canvases suddenly become a tenuous balance between the natural and the constructed, between the permanent and the ephemeral. In taking a closer look at Park's process, it is important to note that the artist does not actually paint these works with his own hand, relying instead on studio assistants to enact his stated desires. Park does not hide this fact, believing that this is simply another step in his lifelong progress of moving as far away from the reality of paint as he possibly can. From a theosophical or philosophical standpoint, the removal of the artist from the making of his own art carries with it great meaning in terms of authorship, intent and actual meaning. It also hints at a link with other artists that have removed themselves from the art-making process, including Japanese Gutai artist Akira Kanayama and his automatic painting machine from the 1950s, and such luminary artists as Maurizio Cattalan or Jeff Koons working today. For Park, the decision to no longer lay down paint, but to allow others to carry out his ideas on the picture plane is a manifesto on how to make art without any decisive intention. He thus links himself through this mindset with Eastern viewpoints on ink-painting and Western movements such as art informel and Abstract Expressionism. In the end, Park seeks to produce a deeply meditative quality in his work, envisioning his canvases as screens upon which the viewer may focus, losing himself amidst the fragility of the actual paint and the waves of colour washing across the work's face. Thinking in this way, his canvases become portals into an imaginary realm where there are no absolutes and within which the viewer may move beyond the physical presence of the work before him. By giving prime import to the act of thinking over the act of painting in his work, Park altogether supersedes the need to speak of his work in terms of minimalism or abstraction, begging the viewer to instead enter into a relationship with the work from a purely socio-religious standpoint. Park has made note of the fact that his rectangular forms might also best be described as monks praying in a Zen garden. Viewed from this perspective, it is easy to imagine these static forms as acolytes sitting in absolute meditation amidst the sweeping lines of a raked sand garden, pondering life and its many mysteries. Park does however deviate only slightly from his philosophical leanings through his decision to implement Korean mulberry paper on the face of his paintings, as a mediatory between the canvas and paint. In traditional Korean homes of yore, most surfaces--including floors, walls and ceilings--were covered with oiled mulberry paper to keep the actual structure clean and safe. By adding a layer of paper to his canvas, and having it painted upon by his assistants, Park Seo-Bo seems to be laying down both a foundation and a way of living; for him, distance and painting are forever intertwined as the passions that fuel both his life and his work.