YENA SEO-YEON PARK
INTERVIEWED BY ANDREW PATTERSON
YENA SEO-YEON PARK (b. 2000, Seoul, South Korea) paints the shifting terrain of love and memory. In her layered oil paintings, figures dissolve, reemerge, and transform across dense surfaces. She explores the duality of intimacy and loss-where presence meets absence, and tenderness coexists with fear. Guided by an intuitive, emotionally charged use of color, her imagery draws on personal mythology, oneiric symbolism, and traces of memory. ANDREW PATTERSON is a visual artist with an eye for craft and precision, with an interest in the spiritual and the unfathomable. The two artists sat down at a coffee shop on their way to a film screening at MoMA.
ANDREW PATTERSON: You describe your work as being about dreams and intimate memories coexisting with a wide range of disruptive or depressive emotions - could you talk about what compels you to revisit these spaces?
YENA SEO-YEON PARK: I don't know how to put this but, those weak moments makes me feel the most human and vulnerable, and I realize that, oh, we eventually all die, and that's what makes us human. And I know I really love someone when I want to be with them despite all those feelings that they bring to the table. So for me, love is like realizing that I'm going to have to live with these emotions. But really, I'm okay with it. Appreciating every moment, even if in a way, it's negative.
AP: We've been talking about this idea of Eros and eroticism in the studio book club - the idea of 'the negative' or the other; things that we can't control. The unknown. It's been leading into discussions across all topics, not just intimacy or love, this idea that we've worked so hard to expel negative emotions rather than understand them or learn how sit with them. To learn what they mean. Anyway, I think that's definitely a strong starting point. Another thing I was curious about - you said you're "interested in spaces, dreams and moments that once felt safe because of the emotional connection shared within them and in exploring how their meaning shifts after that connection has faded." I was wondering, how does your relationship to your work change over time? When you're making it, or after it's completed, do you feel the same thing - do the connections fade? Do they become stronger?
YP: That's a great question. It definitely changes. I think it's - catharsis?
AP: Catharsis, yeah!
VP: Because when I'm creating a certain painting and revisiting that specific memory and realm, in that process I'm very obsessed with that moment. And all I'm thinking about is that particular stage of memory. And while I'm painting it, it definitely releases all the pain and everything that I'm going through, so it's definitely very - I think of it as almost ritualistic. I don't know if you know Mandalas? It's like that to me. Even if I'm thinking all the way through when I'm painting. Because my paintings are all so complicated and have various stages ... I think the reason I keep adding all those stages is also because I want to do this act of moving my hands to release ...
AP: You're working through it.
YP: Yeah! It's like meditation to me.
AP: And so if you - let's say it's a particularly intense subject - after you've through the process of making it, when you look at it again do you feel a sense of comfort? Or does it take you back? Does the making fully expel - like you said, catharsis - is it fully out of your system? You can say "now it's just an inert image, that's done" and move on?
YP: I mean, it's different from painting to painting because my goal is to fully reduce my emotions. I won't feel anything when I'm looking at a finished painting, but if I still have the feeling that it's not fully refined, I'll continue painting it. Most of the time, I have to make multiple paintings till everything is reduced. So even if I have to paint about "Pl.' like 10 times, I'd do that until it's resolved.
AP: Okay, so this seems related. A term I had look up because I wasn't familiar with it was oneiric symbolism. It's like the symbolism of dreams, right? Maybe you could explain a little bit more about what that means or why it's important to your work.
YP: Like dream states? I know you might think I'm crazy - Korea is such a ... spiritual, syncretic culture. Like, we're basically all shamans. Seriously.
AP: [laughs] Okay? I don't think you're crazy - I gotta get over there.
YP: And I'm obsessed with the afterworld, like ghosts, gods, and things that we can't see but I know that exist. I like to think that I see them through my dreams. I would dream very specific things. Sometimes moments or things I see in my dreams come true. I'm not saying that I'm predicting things. I just feel like I'm a little more sensitive when it comes to the world that we can't see.
AP: You're like a vector that it passes through?
YP: I think so. I think of myself that way. Maybe some people might think they're just dreams, but I pay attention to them carefully. And I always really look forward to sleeping, because I want to dream - sometimes I'll even meditate to remember my dreams better. I don't have an ability to create whatever I want in them, but it's like watching a movie and seeing the way I want the world to look. So I sometimes get the idea of my version of a utopia through my dreams.
AP: That's interesting - I also love that you mentioned movies. I had a question about that as well, but we'll come back to it! Let's switch gears a little bit to something that I also think about a lot - the idea of duality. What about duality are you drawn to? Is it the tension between two things? Is it the space in between?
YP: I think everything in the world comes with duality. If there's dark, there's light. If there's negativity there's positivity, but especially I think that's the most vivid when it comes to love and intimacy.
AP: In a similar vein, something that I love about your work is how you combine figurative work with gestural abstraction. You describe deploying that process of combination as a means to build ambiguity. I was curious how you think that it changes how audiences approach your work - are you thinking about how people are receiving it?
YP: No, I think they can relate to my work. And when they see my work, they can bring up their own memories and experiences - that would be great. I really don't expect it - that's just not my goal. But when that happens, I'm very happy, and it feels like I'm connecting with them on a soul level. Whenever people give me advice - in an annoying way- I don't care about it, you know?Because this is for me! This is like therapy to me.
AP: [Laughs] Yeah! I envy your confidence in sticking to your guns.
YP: Maybe it's stubbornness. I think it's stubbornness.
AP: I think it's good to a degree, though. There's something that I'm looking for reflected in others that I'm not always getting and that can create confidence issues in the making for me. As an add-on to that question - knowing that you're not thinking about it per se - do you feel like ambiguity proposes a significant challenge for people when they look at artwork?
YP: I think that it helps to convey that atmosphere. Because what I'm trying to deliver isn't a certain incident or I don't know - It's not something very ...
AP: It's not concrete?
YP: Right. It's a feeling, and an atmosphere, and the tendency of the way I experience life and memory and nostalgia. It's all very vague. So as long as I can deliver that, I'm happy. And I think because I use abstraction, the vagueness and the atmosphere is easier to deliver. If I paint this coffee cup, not a lot of people can associate this with another thing other than a coffee cup. So that's why I'm trying to reduce figures ... .I feel like I'm preparing for the thesis presentation.
AP: Perfect! You'll be ready - two birds with one stone. So -next question. How do you decide where to let your images dissolve into abstraction? Is it intuitive?
YP: It's partly intuitive. And partly from the things that I've learned. When I see artists throughout art history, I would see certain paintings that I love, and I want my paintings to give that kind of feeling or meaning. I would memorize the composition or the way it resolves on the canvas and I would use that. For example, there's a painter named Maja Ruznic - I've seen her paintings, and it just evoked certain feelings in me. And whenever I want to evoke that similar feeling, I would pull out paper and draw - not looking at her work - but memorizing the way she used lines, how she used composition, what kind of color she used, and how many layers she used. And then I'd try to make it my own.
AP: That's super cool. I've never tried to reconstitute a work based purely on how I feel about it.
YP: It's really helpful. You should try it!
AP: I will try it, absolutely! And then I think this is a second part of that - It's about your painting Things She Left. A great painting. The question is about not the figure and the abstraction, but the raw canvas. Because that decision seems in the same vein, but it's kind of like one step further than just leaving something gestural - it's leaving something that may feel to some viewers perhaps unfinished. What are you thinking about when you're doing something like that?
YP: So in Things She Left I wanted that piece to remain unfinished. I wanted that piece to suggest a future that nobody could really determine. Because at that moment, I really believed that as long as I'm not dead, nothing's over - everything is possible. Even if it feels like it's over. I think by leaving the work literally unfinished, that's the best way to suggest an open future. That was the first piece that I left unfinished. That changed everything in my practice. I'm doing that more and more. That's what I want to pursue in my work. And that was the first piece that I succeeded in delivering what I wanted to deliver for a long time. So that's still my favorite piece.
AP: Well, I feel blessed to be able to look at it all the time! The next question is about your drawings, which I'm obsessed with, and I just wanted to ask where they fit into your practice? Do you feel like they are works in and of themselves? Do you think of them as studies? I've had the benefit of seeing your space and seeing all these crazy drawings ...
YP: Thank you so much! I first made those drawings in 2024. It was almost the end of fall semester, and I wanted to deliver the atmosphere and emotion a person brings, not the person themself. I wanted to deliver their aura, not how they look or what gender they are - nothing about the person but their energy. And the only method I could think to use at that time was abstraction, so I started an abstract drawing. All of my abstract drawings are referring to specific people. One piece equals that one person. So I would draw my mom, my sister, dad, friends, people that I love - people that I shared great memories with. My paintings deal with duality- they contain a lot of complex emotions. But when it comes to my drawings, since I'm drawing people that I love, I think it's more joyful. It's complex because it's human - but the intent is positivity. So the process is definitely really different. It's very intuitive. I just start by choosing what kind of color I wanted to place this person with, and I would just start from wherever. Sometimes from the middle, sometimes from the edge - it doesn't matter. And while I'm drawing, I think about what this person represents. For example, my mom, whenever I think of my mom, she's a hug in human form - a ball of light. So I only use specific gestures, nothing harsh, really soft lines, and I only use that line through the whole drawing. When I was depicting my dad, he's the most peaceful person in the world, so I want this drawing to look really calm. So I only think about that. So it's very, very therapeutic. I'm not stressing at all. They usually take like 4 hours to finish. And throughout that 4 hours, I'm so happy it's like being on vacation. So, at the end of that semester, I almost felt guilty. I felt like I was playing.
AP: That's funny that you felt guilty for playing.
YP:Yes.
AP: Going back to talking about movies - I was thinking about how there is a very strong cinematic quality to your work. I was wondering if you. how do I say this ... direct the work, like you're managing the actors and the staging, versus solely channeling your memories. I guess it just goes back to this interplay between what's intuitive and what's planned and how you're deploying it. Does how you engage with film bleed into your painting practice?
YP: I used to watch movies to get inspired because my work was based on photography. And I would stage people and light everything before I took the photograph, and then I would make a painting based on that. And yeah, I think it was definitely director-like. These days I don't watch movies to find inspiration. I watch them for pleasure. I watched a lot of movies throughout my teenage years so I think it all accumulated. My work has become more abstract these days, I try to just let my intuition in more. Now I feel like I can trust myself. I don't even need a specific plan anymore. Sometimes I feel like when I paint intuitively it's easier to let people in more - even if it's harder for me to paint.
AP: I think it shows in the work. I feel like there's a level of trust (in your process) that is conveyed - like that big piece that you're working on right now. Just letting it come out.
YP:Yeah!
AP: Great, my last question - bonus question - what have you been looking at as you're making this body of work for the thesis? What have you been looking at or listening to or reading?
YP: I've been watching a lot of various things ... multiply.
AP: What, like repeatedly?!
YP: Yeah, like repeatedly, simultaneously ... Most recently I watched this documentary on Netflix about a tragedy that happened in Korea. I don't recommend it because it's horrible. It will give you nightmares, but I'm obsessed with crime and, you know, horrible things happening in the world.
AP: Like true crime?
YP: Yeah. Everything really - serial killers, organized crime, war. ..
AP: Crazy. I would not look at one of your paintings and think: "Oh yeah. Yena's definitely watching a documentary about war crimes."
YP: Also, there's a Netflix show called Aema. I recommend it - it's about the 80's Korean movie scene which was very dangerous and toxic. That era dealt dictatorship, authoritarianism ... but the show is so well produced.
AP: Added it to the list! Anything else that you want to add?
YP: If I think of anything I'll message you. Sorry. I haven't slept.
AP: Nah. you did great. Thanks for taking the time!
