Moon Mean (b.1999) is a Seoul-based painter, whose works reconstruct large and small events that happen to him and his surroundings using materials of his own making. He prepares solid and light atypical blanks by layering macerated Hanji and paints on them with turbid pigments he calls metallic tempera. Like the moon hanging over a smudged horizon, the silhouette of the ceiling in his room at night with unknown time, the ripples in the river as someone else would have seen, scenes with no name or owner are slowly transformed by the artist’s hand into uneven images.

For him, reality is an opaque mass of too many superimpositions to grasp clearly. Fragments of images stored in his phone or glimpsed on social media overlap and intermingle in a foggy field of faded light, transforming them into abstractions. Flowing on the edges of painting and sometimes borrowing from sculpture and installation, Moon’s work questions the gap between reality and fiction, truth and misunderstanding, seeing and being.

Can you tell us about your background and how you started your artistic journey?

Honestly, I would say “by chance.” 

Before I started my artistic career, I worked as a tattooist for about 5 years – this was the very first practice that led me to art. I entered university without much thought and was making works as class assignments. However, I gradually realized that what I was doing was more than just coursework. 

I feel like I become genuinely myself when I’m working, and it is something that makes men feel alive more than anything else. Tattooing had also been one of the creative practices for me, but it had to involve “clients”, which became inherent constraints in my practice. Art-making, on the other hand, has been an affirmation to myself. It allowed me to work in a much freer and more self-directed way. 

Though I’ve come this far by chance, looking back, the phrase “by chance” encapsulates the time I spent experiencing the difference between the two creative practices. Perhaps it was through that experience that I gained a clearer sense of direction and confidence in my path as an artist.

Are there any particular mediums you prefer working with? Why?

I’m drawn to the materiality and inherent logic of traditional mediums, such as painting and sculpture. These mediums, which rely on the involvement of the body, reveal the process of thinking through hand, and are therefore closely tied to the subjective experience of making—something I value deeply.

My approach to these kind of mediums also connects with how people view the artwork. I prefer viewers to move freely through space and experience the work at their own pace, rather than following a fixed point of view, narrative, or a flow of plot. 

In my current practice, I work primarily with painting, but often borrow the methods of sculpture and installation to create paintings with volume.
Unlike conventional paintings, which presuppose a frontal point of view, my work allows observation from multiple, shifting perspectives—much like sculpture, where no single viewpoint dominates.

For me, the practice of painting is not just about “painting”. It is a process through which thought unfolds and form takes shape. I move between the acts of painting and sculpting, allowing matter and image to exist on the same plane, coming together into a single, cohesive form. In this sense, I see myself not only as a painter but also as someone who treats images as one of those sculptural materials. This attitude toward the medium lies at the core of my work.

How has your artistic style evolved over time?

My first solo exhibition, Doesn’t matter though (2024), explored the tactile senses of skin using paper that I made by hand. The idea stemmed from my past experience within tattoo culture and my obsession with body images, and it was about a process of investigating the boundary between skin and surface.

The series (2023–2024) on the show initially began with sculptural works that reassembled fragments of my own and others’ bodies. As I continued working, however, I was drawn to the inherent qualities of paper itself—its texture, relief, and absorbency—and began expanding its possibilities into a painterly context. In that sense, it was a chance for me to break free from self-imposed limitations, and at the same time was an opportunity to expand my artistic practice as a whole. 

As I concluded the series following the exhibition, I found out that the wooden canvas I had made were warping during production. In addressing this issue, I naturally began questioning the very structure of the support—the frame of the painting itself—which led me to carve and construct the supports by hand.

From there, my practice evolved toward what I now describe as the “standing shell.” These works explore ambiguous forms that exist as both painting and sculpture, both material and image—forms that stand upright on their own.

Can you describe a recent project or artwork that you are particularly proud of?

I wouldn’t say it’s something I’m particularly proud of, but there is a series I’d like to introduce. It’s titled IMAGE HANDLING PRACTICE—as the name suggests, it’s a set of sketch-like studies that train my sensitivity in handling images.

Looking back, form has played a significant role in my practice. At various turning points, formal concerns have shaped the work, and material exploration has often served as its foundation. For that reason, I’m always careful not to let my practice remain at the level of purely material or formal experimentation. 

To prevent the Tomorrow series—which physically takes the form of a “shell”—from ending up as something that looks convincing yet hollow, I work on IMAGE HANDLING PRACTICE in parallel, as a way to refine my sense of image-making as a painter. This series serves as both a form of ongoing training and a process of self-correction, helping me to build toward stronger, more grounded works. Furthermore, the IMAGE HANDLING PRACTICE sketches are conceived as a flexible structure that can be re-incorporated into my main working system, serving as a material that oscillates between image and matter. 

How do you stay inspired and motivated to create new work?

I’m the kind of person who tends to have a lot on my mind, and perhaps because of that, I draw inspiration from a wide range of things. 

Sometimes I find interesting points or a conceptual idea from a single sentence or a word, and at other times, inspiration comes from music—its melody, emotion, or lyrics. I also find new possibilities in small, fleeting moments of everyday life, and occasionally from scientific fields that seem far away from my work, such as relativity or string theory. At times, I start brainstorming from looking at certain social or cultural phenomena. 

Although there are many different sources of inspiration, they ultimately end up on everyday life and human experience. Looking back, I think it all leads to a broader reflection on how I perceive and live within the world.

More specifically within the realm of visual art, I construct what I call a motif pool—a collection of diverse visual information.

It includes everything from scenes I’ve directly encountered to images imprinted on my retina through a screen. From there, I select, combine, deconstruct, and reconstruct visual materials as part of my process. I also reference works from other media—such as sculpture, photography, and video—adapting parts of their structure or sensibility into my own painterly language.

What projects are you currently working on, and what can we expect from you in the future?

I’m currently continuing my long-term series titled Tomorrow.

In this body of work, I carve the support by hand and create a thick paper that retains the traces of hand, embodying the passage of time and physical gestures within the material itself. On these surfaces, I paint using a material I call “metallic tempera”—a mixture of metal powder, gouache pigments, and animal glue. Through this process, I aim to let the traces and temporality of oxidation naturally permeate the surface.

During the painting process, I layer images captured from different sources and moments. In the final stage, I remove the internal support, leaving only a hollow shell. This emptied shell detaches from the wall and stands on its own—what I call a “standing shell”—marking the moment when a painting becomes a self-supporting structure in space.

As the metallic tempera merges with the surface of the handmade paper, the work acquires contradictory qualities: it may appear like an ancient relic, both solid and fragile, thick yet thin. I’m drawn to this paradoxical point where materiality and processual temporality become entangled. 

Although these works take the form of paintings, they carry the gestures of sculpture. There is no fixed point of view. Depending on where one stands, the image shifts, twists, or becomes partially obscured. The viewer therefore get to choose what to see and from where to see it. Within this imperfect act of viewing, I question the act of seeing itself—what and how to see. The Tomorrow series is a process of exploring how a subject perceives the world, and how I, as that subject, stand within its uncertain boundaries. At the same time, it is an ongoing experiment on how painting can exist within space. Through the form of “a painting that rests on the floor on its own,” I hope to allow viewers to move freely through the space, encounter the works at their own pace, and discover new meanings within them.

Text & photo courtesy of Moon Mean

Website: https://www.m00nmean.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/moon__mean/

Yaerin Pyun is a ceramic artist working between Seoul and London. Her education at the Royal College of Art (UK, 2023) expanded the scope of her creative inquiry, building on earlier studies in ceramics during her BFA at Seoul National University of Science and Technology (South Korea, 2019).

In recent years, Pyun has been recognized with several international distinctions, including the Monica Biserni Prize at the 63rd Premio Faenza (Italy, 2025); finalist at the 6th Triennial of Kogei (Japan, 2025); finalist at the inaugural Seoul Yoolizzy Craft Award (South Korea, 2024).

In 2025, Pyun presented my solo exhibition Poem for Ephemeral Moments in Hong Kong. She also participated in major international exhibitions such as Design Miami (US), the 6th Triennial of Kogei at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art (Japan); Salon Art & Design (US) PAD London (UK); Fine Art Asia (Hong Kong); Design Miami<Illuminated: A Spotlight on Korean Design> (South Korea); the 63rd Premio Faenza (Italy); Taipei Dangdai Art & Ideas (Taiwan); and Landscape of Materials at Cromwell Place (UK).

Between 2020 and 2024, she also exhibited in multiple countries, including China, South Korea, and the United Kingdom.

Pyun’s works have been internationally collected, including by the International Museum of Ceramics (Italy), Charles Burnand Gallery (UK), and various private collectors.

 Can you tell us about your background and how you started your artistic journey?

I have been close to nature since childhood, and it has always been a fundamental source of interest and inspiration for me. My current practice began during the COVID-19 pandemic, when I often went to the mountains, looking for places away from people. The most memorable thing at the time was the moss growing on weathered stones. I used to think of tiny things like moss or flowers as fragile and fleeting, but in that space, I came to see their vitality, energy, and the beauty that exists only in that moment.

Nature constantly changes, but instead of losing its meaning or value, it reminded me that the momentary existence itself is precious. I felt that this characteristic of nature resembles human life, and this realization became the starting point of my work.

What are the main themes or concepts you explore in your work?

I reinterpret familiar elements of nature through ceramics to make them unfamiliar. My work’s a process of questioning fixed perceptions and values attached to objects. I believe that by observing and contemplating even the most ordinary objects, one can connect with a universal sense of life. This perspective suggests that the essence of being lies not in appearance, but in the process through which emotions, memories, and thoughts accumulate and transform.

In this sense, I regard ceramics as a medium that embodies the boundary between what disappears and what remains, through the unpredictable transformations and traces left in the firing process. I transform seemingly immutable, solid stone into a fragile form with a hollow. I also turn the fragility and transience symbolized by moss into something solid and enduring by coating it with slip and firing it.

Through these transformations of materiality and symbolism, I explore the boundary where the value and meaning of objects shift and are reconfigured.

What role do you believe art plays in social and cultural change?

By translating the world into an artist’s visual language, I believe that art can challenge familiar perceptions and values, opening up new ways of thinking about society and culture.

My work explores how materials from everyday life can be reinterpreted and given new meaning. When familiar materials or forms are transformed into something unfamiliar, they can be detached from their original context and become part of the viewer’s own experience.

This shift in understanding can also extend to how we view society and culture. In this sense, art can serve as a starting point for social and cultural change by suggesting such possibilities for transformation.

What challenges have you faced as an artist, and how have you overcome them?

I think the real challenge for me is not about being an artist, but about how I manage the uncertainty I feel as a person. Because doubt and uncertainty are a natural part of my practice, I make an effort to engage with them in a constructive way. For example, I set regular hours for working each day and spend part of my time caring for various plants. These small daily routines, though seemingly trivial, play a crucial role in grounding and stabilizing me.

Do you collaborate with other artists or creators? If so, how has collaboration influenced your work?

I haven’t collaborated with other artists or creators yet, but I’m always open to the possibility. I believe there is value in how different perspectives and approaches can come together to expand the scope of a practice.

What projects are you currently working on, and what can we expect from you in the future?

The title of my current project is “Poem for Ephemeral Moments”. It suggests a form of memorial intended to quietly observe, sense, and hold the memory of things that disappear or change. I collect elements from nature and transform them into ceramics. Through this process, I hope to encourage viewers to move beyond familiar ways of thinking and see the world from their own perspectives.

Based on ongoing research into ceramic materials, I’m exploring how my work can better interact with exhibition spaces. I aim to expand the work into spatial scenes that invite viewers to pause and reflect in personal contemplation.

Text & photo courtesy of Yaerin Pyun

Website: https://www.yaerin.net/
Instagram: http://instagram.com/yaerin.art/