Bodies In Flux: Gesture, Proximity And Abstraction In Jieun Choi’s Paintings

The artworks of Jieun Choi examine the human body as both material and transient. Her figures are evidently present, most of the time filling the canvas with an intense concentration of bodies, but do not conform to the usual understanding of figurative representation. Body parts are entangled and confused, torsos dissolve into each other, faces are deprived of their individual characteristics, while the bodies blend in the broader mass. Thus, some sort of figuration emerges whereby recognition is constantly disturbed by the ongoing transformation of the figures.

One of the most notable characteristics of Choi’s practice is the way she handles proximity. Figures in her art approach are seldom seen as single entities. Rather, they lean, touch, couch, one another, conceal, or push against each other. Thus the effect is rather dense. Bodies may seem to be placed on top of each other, but the compositions are nevertheless dynamic. The movements in the work create an internal motion. The hand stretches across a torso; the arm reaches out towards the neighbor; while simultaneously someone’s body twists away and a head pops out from the crowd. For example, the work ‘Unseen Powers’ illustrates this principle as well. Here the tension mainly relies between body squeezing and movement. The figure in the top right corner does give direction to the composition while the rest of the arrangement render a shifting network of limbs, knees and hands. The painting outcome becomes rather dynamic without increasing visually an uncontrollable atmosphere on canvas.

Jieun Choi, Castellers, 2026, Oil on canvas, 220 x 180 cm

words: yannis kostarias

Choi’s figures purposely have incorrectly proportioned bodies. They are heavy set, round, elongated, or strangely contorted, and yet, their peculiarity does not become a caricature. Instead, it renders a firm physicality to the figures. Flesh is understood as a matter, not just a skin tissue. The softness of a thigh, the weight of a torso, and the curve of a back are built into the painting’s fabric. Sometimes, anatomy appears to melt into abstraction and the shoulder is almost perceived as a brushstroke and the leg as a structural line.

The painter’s visual language between the abstract and non-abstract approach in the faces’ depiction seems essential in Choi’s work. The features of the figures are getting reduced, obscured, or displaced. Although the figures look human, there are not any identifiable characteristics of particular individuals. This means the expressions are left ambiguous. Nevertheless, we can see some details, such as an eye or a mouth, appearing on the plain surface. A sort of gender fluidity is broadly highlighted in her body of work.

The use of colour exhibits the same level of importance. Choi chooses his colour palette carefully, mainly using shades such as beige, pink, ochre, brown and grey. Combined with cold shades like blue, turquoise or green, the colours create an airy feeling but at the same time, the density of forms in the composition because of the presence of bodies prevents the works from feeling light in a lot of ways. The warmth of the flesh tones means that thickness is established while the presence of cool colour hints means that gaps are introduced into the texture. In spite of the apparent homogeneity of the colours, they are chosen wisely and deliberately, allowing the viewer to see all bodies and surfaces merge and blend.

Thus, Choi’s paintings are characterized by a productive paradox. On one hand, the figures appear to be intimate because of the nearness of their presence, but their faces and bodies are nevertheless somehow inaccessible. On one hand, the compositions may look overpopulated but they contain parts that radiate tranquility. Even though motion is unceasing, it is always regulated. Likewise, softness is combined with tension. The fact that Choi’s core technique is based on this very contradiction, gives it great power; instead of rejecting figuration for the sake of abstraction, she allows abstraction to disrupt perception, establishing an ongoing pictorial substance that favors a continuous process of transformation.

Jieun Choi, Unseen Power, 2026, Oil on canvas, 220 x190 cm

1. How would you define your work in a few words? (Ideally in 3 words.)

Solidarity, Tension, Coexistence.

2. Could you tell us a little about your new work ‘Influencer’ (2026)? Is there a particular story behind this new painting?

In the past, I didn’t usually begin a painting by trying to describe a specific situation or by planning something in advance. Recently, however, I’ve started to think about certain subjects before I begin working. Sometimes, thinking about a single word or a particular phenomenon makes it easier for me to develop an image.

With Influencers, I was thinking about social media and platforms like Instagram and YouTube. From the perspective of a viewer, there is often a strong sense of distance between what we see on a screen and our own lives. But I actually know several people around me who make videos and have turned it into their main profession. Their surroundings are almost always crowded with people.

Even when the person at the centre of such a scene is actually my friend, I sometimes find that seeing them in that context makes them feel strangely unfamiliar to me. I’ve also heard about the difficulties experienced by friends who have gained a certain level of fame or popularity. People they don’t even know may whisper about them, rumours can become accepted as facts, and they can end up being involved in situations or stories they have no knowledge of at all.

Seeing these things made me think about the human tendency to become attached to relationships and the desire to be part of them. I was also thinking about the feelings that can arise when we cannot enter that circle—the sense of exclusion that can gradually turn into anger. These thoughts became part of the starting point for Influencers.

Jieun Choi, Influencers, 2026, oil on canvas, 180 x 230 cm

3. The faces of your figures are generally recognisable in form, but their specific features are often obscured. What do you find appealing about this distance between portraiture and abstraction? And do you have a point at which you feel a figure has become abstract enough?

When there is something I want the figures to communicate emotionally through their relationships, I sometimes leave the face vague, while still allowing the viewer to sense a certain expression or feeling. At the same time, I don’t want the paintings to become overly dramatic or theatrical. I think of myself as someone who observes groups of people and relationships, while also being a person who belongs within them, and then translates what I observe onto the canvas.

All of us live as members of society, taking on countless different relationships and roles. I want to talk about these groups of people and relationships without allowing them to be read as one specific phenomenon. I want them to remain open to being viewed from different perspectives. For that reason, rather than depicting specific individuals or expressions, I think abstraction can play a role in creating distorted, almost disappearing figures onto which viewers can project themselves and construct different stories.

I don’t consciously try to make a figure look more concrete or more abstract, so I don’t really have a specific criterion. When I look back at the process of making a painting, I think my own criterion is simply whether the image has arrived at a point where it can be naturally read as a whole.

4. Your colours are generally composed of muted nude tones combined with pale blues, greens and yellows, with occasional touches of more vivid colour. For you, is colour primarily something that affects emotion and atmosphere, or does it also play an important role in the overall composition of the painting?

In the past, I used much stronger, more primary colours. These days, as you mentioned, I tend to use calmer or warmer colours.

If you look at the titles of my paintings, they are often made up of a single word or noun accompanied by an adjective. As I mentioned earlier, I tend to work quite intuitively. I gradually discover what kinds of situations will emerge within the painting as I work, and I usually decide on the title somewhere around the middle or later stages of the process. By that point, when I have a clearer sense of where the painting is heading, I begin to introduce colour according to the situation suggested by the title.

For me, colour is closely connected to mood.

5. In works such as Unseen Powers, several figures appear to be physically pulling towards one another, forming a single shape. Do you see them as individual figures, or as one central figure?

When I work on large paintings depicting groups of people, I pay particular attention to the relationships between the figures.

Unseen Powers contains much more of a narrative element than some of my earlier works. There is a recently released Korean historical film called The King’s Warden. Although it is not the main theme of the film, it also depicts corrupt officials taking away the possessions of ordinary people and using their power to oppress them. Stories like this appear quite often in Korean historical dramas and films. In the centre of the painting, there is a figure wearing military boots, seemingly pushing people aside. On the right, there is a huge figure next to a horse, making a gesture that appears almost like giving an order. The empty space in the upper right could simply be understood as empty space, but it could also become another presence—something that is not clearly visible.

On the left, the people seem to be stacked up in an unstable and unbalanced way. They appear anxious and frightened. But the figure crouching at the very bottom is carefully protecting a flower that is growing up from below with their hands. The flower is a snowdrop, which I chose because of its symbolism. It represents hope and consolation.

These kinds of stories have continued throughout human history, regardless of time. Even now, on a larger scale, the world is full of wars and conflicts caused by struggles for power. On a more personal level, it is also full of people who are exhausted by lives in which they are constantly being pressured or forced into things by others. As someone living in this world myself, I wanted to bring this aspect of human life into the painting through my own visual language. To return to the original question: the figures in Unseen Powers are each independent individuals, but they are deeply entangled in relationships with one another.

6. Do you expect your viewers to experience any particular emotion while looking at your work?

I think that if an artist can give viewers a particular experience or sensation through their work, that is one of the greatest joys and one of the strongest reasons to keep working.

I’m not someone who feels that I have a grand story to tell. Even for myself, there are really only two things I do: I make work and I observe the world. After living in Germany as an outsider for around ten years, the way I look at people has changed. I’ve also had more time to focus on understanding my own emotions. As a result, I naturally find myself thinking more often about the relationship between myself and the world we live in.

At the moment, my goal is simply to make work that can show these things as naturally and honestly as possible, without adding or removing too much. The things I experience are often things that many other people experience as well, but the emotions and thoughts each person has within those experiences can be completely different. I hope that if I am the person who begins or tells a story, the viewer can take that story and continue it in their own voice.

7. Are some of your works created through spontaneous experiments in the studio, or do you usually begin with a particular concept or narrative in mind? And are these works connected in some way to personal memories, or are they closer to your imagination as an artist?

As I mentioned earlier, I tend to begin working intuitively. But as I work, I follow the small openings where a story begins to appear, almost as if I am being led by the story itself.

This year, I did a residency in a very small city in Austria. The paintings I had prepared canvases for were finished much more quickly than I expected, so I went through a period of drawing, which is something I don’t usually do very much.

Because drawing is not something I am as accustomed to doing, I think I spent more time thinking than actually drawing. One of the works that developed from those drawings was Unseen Powers, which I mentioned earlier. In that case, I actually thought about the story first and then made the work. Apart from that, all of my works are in some way fragments of my own experiences, or moments of sensation that I have seen, heard, experienced or thought about. A sensation can come from reality, but it can also come from imagination. I think of experience and sensation almost like the past and the present, and my way of working is close to combining these two.

8. What are your plans for the near future?

I have a solo exhibition at Städtische Galerie Freiburg on September 16. I’m currently very busy with the final preparations for the exhibition, and I’m really looking forward to welcoming many people there.

In November, there will be an exhibition of the recipients of the Förderpreis Kunst + Kultur Offenburg, and next year I have a residency in Sweden planned.

Jieun Choi, Cult , Oil on canvas, 2026, 220x190cm
Jieun Choi, Goblin, Oil on canvas, 2026, 40x30cm
Jieun Choi, Solitude, Oil on canvas, 2026, 220x190cm
Jieun Choi, Bleh, Oil on canvas, 2026, 40x30cm

all images courtersy of the artist

@jeunc

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