Every artist is guided by something that cannot always be seen, yet quietly gives meaning to everything they create.
In this conversation, Woojun Lee reflects on a practice that questions not simply what we see, but how we come to see it. Through familiar objects, everyday landscapes, and the subtle dialogue between memory, the body, and experience, he explores how perception is continuously shaped long before we become aware of it.
Beyond every finished work lies a way of seeing the world. One shaped by memory, experience, and the body itself. The Core Message invites readers to encounter that quiet inquiry through the artist's own words.
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Q. Thank you for joining us. To begin our conversation, we are curious to know how you define your identity as an artist at this moment and what central theme most occupies your thoughts.
A. Hello, I am Woojun Lee. I think of myself as an internal observer. One of the things that has stayed with me is how the brain shapes not just what we see, but how we see it. The main theme of my work is what I call an "illusory landscape." To me, this reflects the way we perceive the world through both past memories and the present moment. Our brains are not passive. They actively construct the landscape in front of us. And now I am trying to expand that idea toward how things, both material and non-material, can be transferred to other people or places.
Q. This chapter is titled "The Core Message." If you were to describe the "anchor" or the most fundamental intention that holds your practice together, what would it be?
A. The body is honest. Being human means responding instinctively, and I think we sense things physically before we understand them. I try to observe closely what draws my attention, what I perceive, what I hear. Last year, I moved repeatedly between the old town, nature, and the new city, and that movement naturally made connection and mobility central to my work. Before that, I spent a lot of time in natural settings, which shaped projects like Falls and Form of View. This year, I am attending a residency called MORA in Monterrey, Mexico. At first I had no idea what I would make. But when I started paying attention to my own responses, I noticed that my body was still reaching for the sensations I was used to in Korea. That observation became the foundation for the exhibition titled Before the Eyes, Beyond the Sense. I believe the body never lies.
Q.Is there a specific piece among your works that you feel most clearly embodies this "core message"? We would love to hear the story behind that work and why it holds such a special place in your heart.
A. The work <Ready for Across, 2025> is about how simple it is to cross a continent. In an airplane, there is almost nothing I need to do. The only thing I had to do was combine two belts into one. That single gesture holds the entire journey within it. The image represents the simplicity of a process that is, in reality, enormously complex, crossing countries, borders, time zones, and atmospheres. This work stays with me because it was the moment I realized my body already knew something my mind had not yet put into words. My hands reached for the belt before I had time to think. That instinctive response is exactly what I try to capture. Because every object is embedded in everyday life, what I place inside the frame can carry far more meaning than it first appears.
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Before the eyes, Beyond the sense Metropolitan Museum of Monterrey 2026 |
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Before the eyes, Beyond the sense Metropolitan Museum of Monterrey 2026 |
Q. Sometimes, the most important messages are felt rather than seen. Is there a "whisper" or a subtle atmosphere in your work that you hope the audience will sense, even if it’s hard to put into words?
A. A notable aspect of my work is the absence of a dominant visual object. The things in the images work as a quiet visual language, open to interpretation. There is no fixed way to read the work, but it still moves in a direction. What I hope the audience senses is the gap between what they expected to feel and what they actually feel in that moment. Our bodies and memories already carry a version of a place before we arrive at it. So the work is not only what is visible. It is also what exists between the image and the person standing in front of it. I prefer not to guide the audience too directly. The atmosphere builds slowly, and sometimes it only becomes clear after you have already left the room.
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Before the eyes, Beyond the sense Metropolitan Museum of Monterrey 2026 |
Q. Artists often find themselves returning to a certain inquiry. What is the persistent question you find yourself asking through your art, regardless of how your style may change?
A. I don't think humans can live in isolation. Even when we appear to be alone, we are leaning on things we did not build and standing inside systems we did not design. We rely on objects, places, and people in ways that are often quiet and almost invisible. The chair that holds our weight. The flight path drawn long before we arrive. The daily routines we share without speaking. The question I keep returning to is how these dependencies shape who we become, and how they train our bodies to see and move through the world.
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Exposed Body 43.5x54.5x4cm 2026 |
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CIrculation 109x159x4cm 2026 |
Q. Beyond the final result, what part of the "act of creating" itself do you find most precious or aligned with your personal values?
A. The part of creating that feels most true to me is the cycle itself. Shooting, then thinking, then returning to shoot again. Each time I go back, something has shifted, something has settled, and the camera becomes a way of testing what I now see differently. It is not about arriving at a final answer. It is about staying in that honest conversation between what I observe and what I understand, and letting each round of that move the work forward.
Q. Looking back, was there a specific experience that shifted your focus from purely aesthetic concerns to a deeper message within your work?
A. There was a period, roughly the last six years, when I was moving frequently between different cities and environments. I began to notice that my body was adjusting before my mind caught up. The way I walked, what I reached for, what felt unfamiliar. I realized I was not just documenting places. I was documenting how a body learns to inhabit them.
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Tigres in Macro Plaza 42x29.7cm 2026 |
Q.As your practice has evolved, how has your core message shifted or become more defined over time?
A. Early on, I was drawn to beauty and stillness. I was interested in how things looked, and I spent a lot of time trying to capture that honestly. But over time, something shifted. I became more aware of the gap between what we see and what we have already decided to see before we even arrive. I started noticing that perception is not neutral. It is shaped by memory, by the body, by everything we have already lived through. The message did not change so much as it became more precise. I stopped asking what things look like and started asking what they carry. And I think that is still the question I am sitting with now.
Q. What kind of internal conversation do you hope a viewer has with themselves when they spend time with your work? What is the "echo" you hope stays with them?
A. I don't have a specific answer I want the audience to arrive at. What I hope for is simpler, and at the same time harder to define. We spend most of our lives moving past things. We see without really seeing, and we feel without stopping to ask why. If someone stands in front of an image and finds themselves asking a question they had not thought to ask before, something about their own perception, their own memory, or the systems they move through every day, that moment means everything to me. The echo I hope stays with them is not a conclusion I have prepared. It is a question that arrives in their own voice, in their own time. That kind of resonance is what I hope to leave behind.
Q. Thank you so much for sharing such thoughtful insights with us today. As we conclude our conversation, is there a final thought or a quiet sincerity you would like to share with those who will encounter your work?
A. I would simply say, trust yourself. Not just your thoughts, not just what you have been told to see, but the feeling that arrives before any of that. Before the explanation, before the title, before the context, there is always a first sensation. Something your body recognizes before your mind has found the words. That feeling is not naive. It is often the most honest thing we carry. I hope that when you spend time with my work, something in you feels free to slow down, to listen to itself, and to trust what it finds there.
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| Woojun Lee |
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Artist : Woojun Lee
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