My paintings attempt to remain in a state prior to resolution or harmony. Within them exist anxiety, despair, conflict, fluctuation, and a breath that has not yet disappeared. I do not depict these elements as resolved; rather, I seek to hold them on the surface as conditions that continue to exist while still being carried.

In my recent practice, the notion of “incompleteness” has become increasingly central. However, this does not mean something unfinished or abandoned midway. Instead, it is a method of consciously sustaining the moment in which a painting is pressured to close into a stable conclusion—yet resists fully doing so. It is about not resolving completely, not stabilizing entirely, and deliberately holding that tension.

What I aim for is not the presentation of a completed order. Collisions of color, overlapping traces, interruptions of movement, imbalances of density, and remaining spaces—these heterogeneous elements are not organized into a single answer but continue to coexist within the same surface. In this, I see something close to the way human beings live in reality. We do not resolve all wounds or fractures before continuing to live; more often, we move forward in time while still carrying them. For me, painting is a space to re-encounter such unresolved states—not as negation, but as affirmation.

In this sense, “incompleteness” is not merely an impression in my work but is becoming a structural decision that allows the painting to exist. How far to proceed, where to stop, what to leave unresolved, which conflicts to retain, and which spaces to preserve as breath—through these choices, I explore the possibility of a painting that is constituted by not closing.

In my current practice, I am deepening this “affirmation of incompleteness” as a serial body of work. While each piece differs in color, structure, temporality, and emotional density, the central question remains consistent: how can a painting come into being while still holding what cannot be resolved? For me, affirmation does not simply indicate brightness or redemption. It appears as the persistence of what does not collapse, as the survival of breath, as the presence of openings within excess, and as the acceptance of existence without erasing its wounds.

My paintings are not intended to present a single, completed world. Rather, they attempt to create a space in which multiple emotions, multiple temporalities, and multiple traces coexist without fully closing. This incompleteness is not a lack, but a form for remaining open—and within it, I find the urgency that painting can still hold today.