The Logic of My Painting

Between Perception and Memory

Painting is a space of inquiry for me. Each work begins with direct observation—a tree, a house, a landscape—yet the seen object does not remain in its external form. I take the motif inward until it detaches from its concreteness. This dissolution is not a loss but a necessary shift: from the visible object to the inner trace it leaves behind.

Between perception and memory, a kind of visual thinking takes shape. I paint my way through the surface as if removing layers to reach something more essential. In this process, the things themselves disappear, and at some point, so does my own image of myself as the observer. What remains is a state of concentration, guided by memory, intuition, and trust. Only then do I begin, carefully, to search for the way back to the surface.

This approach aligns with a tradition that understands painting not as depiction, but as an experiential field. Agnes Martin articulated this with radical clarity in her consistent reduction: the painting as a field of stillness, a resonant space for inner perception. Rosalind Krauss describes the grid as a structure that marks the shift in modern art from the observed world to the autonomy of the picture plane. The grid does not merely impose order—it opens a conceptual space in which perception can reflect upon itself.

My work moves within this same tension: between the concrete impulse of the external world and the inherent logic of the surface. Throughout the process, the meaning of the motif changes. It becomes a point of departure for questions:


What remains when the representational dissolves?
 How does memory alter the seen?
 How can perception be made visible without being fixed?

The resulting paintings carry the traces of this feedback loop. Layers, dissolutions, condensations—they do not show the object itself, but the movement it has set in motion. Painting becomes an instrument that not only represents the experience of perception, but examines it.

For viewers, these works offer no definitive answers. Instead, they open a space stretched between recognition and abstraction—a space in which perception remains in motion rather than resolved.