Heeyoung Noh’s paintings build a pictorial language where figuration is continually challenged through surface manipulation, anatomical distortion and strictly controlled chromatic tension. Within a broader scope of this artistic canon and in works such as ‘The Milk of Disquiet’ and ‘A Dog and Her Owner’, Noh employs a highly accurate representational framework while disrupting image stability through fluid deformation, abnormal juxtaposition and moments of visual ambiguity. The result is a painterly system that allows portraiture, bodily representation and animal morphology to coexist within the same pictorial field without being resolved into a coherent narrative structure.
One of the most compelling features of Noh’s paintings is her treatment of flesh. Skin is depicted with an ice-like smoothness using smooth tonal transitions, wet highlights, and luminously varying degrees of cold reds, pink bruises and cold blues, violets and purples; the surfaces of her works exhibit an almost lacquered quality. In many portraits, both cheeks and foreheads carry strong bursts of colour, suggesting irritation, fever and pressure from beneath the surface of the skin. This bursting of colour is often juxtaposed against visually placid backgrounds of cold turquoise and pale blue or sterile green, enhancing the corporeal presence of the subject while flattening the surrounding space.
words: yannis kostarias
The structural treatment of the face often reveals remarkable painting results throughout her series; rather than being traditional portraiture components, these facial features are treated like flexible painterly masses subject to gravitational forces, forces of compression, and liquid-like qualities. In paintings where the face is melting downward or is softening around the edges, Noh maintains a high level of anatomical control causing a tension between realism and distortion that is present across her vivid compositions.
Animal imagery appears frequently as an important formal component. For instance, in ‘The Milk of Disquiet’, for example, there is a canine head dog beneath the revealed torso of a female figure who is seated. The dog’s teeth, eyes, and gums have been rendered with almost hyperrealistic precision in contrast to the softness of the neighboring flesh tones. Throughout multiple artworks, animal forms are embedded in human compositions, otherwise known as hybrid forms, in which portraiture is no longer stable. Components such as teeth, jaws, claws, and long tongues have been separated from the rest of the body with greater emphasis than the rest of the body, and many times have become design centres for large highlights or exaggerated scale.
Liquid or wet surface effects are a recurring motif. The artist uses very specific highlighting techniques (for example, sweat, tears, saliva, condensation, and shiny skin) to create an experience of wetness across the entire picture surface. The sense of fluidity created by these textures also travels through to the forms and compositions within the paintings. For example, curtains dissolve into skin tones; tiled bathroom backgrounds flatten into geometric grids; and the figures seem suspended between the processes of emerging and eroding in the painting.
The works show a very high level of control in depiction of the human figure. Even in cases where the figure has been changed substantially, the anatomy appears to be plausible; and the smoothness of the paint application hides all traces of the artist’s presence from physically constructed painting, and produces a high degree of optical clarity. The contrast between the control of the application of paint and the instability of the physical body of the painted figure is one of the most defining visual features of the artist’s work.
How would you define your work in a few words (ideally in 3 words)?
Transgenerational trauma, intimate, anxiety.
Could you share with us some insights on your new work named ‘The Milk of Disquiet’ (2025)? Is there any particular story behind this new painting?
The Milk of Disquiet was one of the most important works in my 2025 solo exhibition. The image of a woman feeding from a dog references the myth of Romulus and Remus, but the narrative of the painting differs significantly from the original mythological story. In my paintings, I often use the black dog as a symbolic figure of the anxiety that women inevitably come to carry. This anxiety can be inherited from my mother, but it also emerges from my own lived experiences. At the same time, Sigmund Freud suggested that the accumulation of anxious feelings can sometimes function as a psychological defence mechanism that prevents unexpected shock or trauma. Because of this, I think of anxiety as something that continuously torments me while also protecting me. For that reason, I imagined the black dog as a fierce and untamed embodiment of anxiety. It confronts me, disturbs me constantly, yet also protects me. I felt that the image of an aggressive dog that cannot be fully domesticated could best capture the complex nature of anxiety as I experience it. As I mentioned earlier, I believe anxiety can be inherited through generations, from my mother and from my mother’s mother before her. Historically, women have continuously occupied vulnerable physical and social positions, and within long-standing patriarchal structures they were often forced into passive ways of living regardless of their own desires. As these experiences accumulated across generations, the warnings, advice, and cautious words passed from mothers to daughters gradually became a legacy of anxiety. Therefore, The Milk of Disquiet symbolises the “milk” of anxiety, anxiety that is fed, transmitted, and inherited through the maternal line.
In many of your portraits, the face is shown as being melted, fuzzy, or completely in poor health, while the rest of the body is portrayed with a great deal of detail. What is your compelling reason to distort the shape of the face versus representing the totality of one’s identity?
Most of the paintings in my Face series do not depict identifiable individuals. I began this series in 2023 while studying for my MFA in Scotland. The series was developed through a process of transforming my personal experiences as a foreigner into a broader and more universal experience shared by people living outside their own countries. The painting titled The Face does not contain a personal narrative. The swollen, reddened, and indistinguishable skin contrasted with black wet hair refers to the sorrowful legacy carried by Asian women. Because figurative painting often suggests specific situations, viewers tend to construct narratives based on clearly recognisable imagery. The faceless woman in the painting has just finished bathing. Liquid, whether sweat, water, or tears, streams down her head and face. I used intense red tones to connect historical pain with the imagery of hot water and bathing. Bathing in hot water is an essential process before ttaemiri, the Korean traditional body scrubbing ritual. The painting captures the moment just before the heated skin is scrubbed. The figures in the Face series do not possess visible facial features, and therefore their expressions cannot be fully read. By omitting the face, I wanted the paintings to move away from personal narrative and instead suggest a more collective and communal experience.
There is a sort of a tendency to use various colour contrasts throughout your work with varying subject matter; when using contrasting colour choices (i.e., bright blue skin colour; orange/warm skin colours; red/pink), the imagery in your work can be unsettling. How do you ensure a “beautiful” colour choice and a psychologically charged imagery in your work?
While I was undertaking my MFA, one of the things I discovered while exploring my subject matter was how deeply Korean bathing culture contains complex cultural and historical ideas. The Korean practice of ttaemiri developed during the Japanese colonial period and continues today. When considering this historical background, I felt that the reddened skin produced by scrubbing the body with a rough cloth could visually communicate one of my central themes, transgenerational trauma. I was also interested in subverting the long-standing racist perception that East Asian skin is “yellow.” The yellow skin tones, the reddened skin, and the orange tones that exist between them probably stand out strongly in my paintings, as you mentioned. Rather than using these colours simply for visual stimulation, I place cold and dark colours around the figures in order to reinforce the narrative structure of the painting. For example, in The Milk of Disquiet, I set the scene as if it were taking place late at night or at dawn so that the outline of the black dog would not appear too clearly. I felt that if the silhouette of the black dog became too distinct, it would be more difficult to convey anxiety as an abstract psychological presence. Therefore, when I choose colours, I naturally consider whether they are visually compelling, but what matters most is whether they correspond to the emotional and narrative structure I want the painting to communicate.
Taking into account paintings such as the composition of ‘A dog and her owner’, the relationship between the two forms becomes sculptural (human versus canine) through light, surface, and texture. To what degree do you feel that materiality and surface quality helps to create your figures’ sense of presence?
I think materiality and surface quality play a very important role in my work. Also, thank you for the question, as it was something I had never consciously thought about before. In my paintings, the weight of forms and the physical quality of the surface function as one of the most effective ways of making the figures appear as if they exist in real time. Looking at the history of painting, the use of light and shadow has always played a crucial role in reinforcing the presence of a subject within an image and making that presence feel solid and convincing. For example, before the invention of photography, painters often focused intensely on realistic depictions of light and shadow in order to preserve the existence of their subjects for the future. I think my approach is related to that tradition.
Because of this, many of the works that inspire me come from Western painting between the fifteenth and eighteenth centuries. At the same time, I am interested in experimenting with different painting techniques in order to control the opacity and physical presence of figures in various ways. At the moment, I partially incorporate glazing techniques into my practice, but I would also like to explore a wider range of methods in order to create new kinds of images without completely departing from my existing visual language.
Where do you draw inspiration in order to build up your distinctive iconography on canvas? Is it related to personal memories or are they closer to your imagination as an artist?
Most of my paintings are not directly related to my personal experiences. Of course, the reason I became interested in these subjects is deeply connected to my identity as an Asian woman, but my works rarely present fragments of my personal life in a literal way. One of the central concepts in my practice is transgenerational trauma, the idea that trauma can be inherited across generations almost like a genetic condition. Within this framework, ideas surrounding decolonialism, feminism, and Orientalism are all interconnected, which means my paintings can also be understood as deeply political works. When feminist art was widely discussed during the 1970s and 1980s, there was a well- known phrase: “the personal is political.” This idea has had a strong influence on the direction of my practice. I began to observe my own experiences of living in the UK as an East Asian woman through a broader and more collective perspective, seeing them as experiences shared by many Asian women. Feelings such as homesickness, sexism, and racism are deeply personal, but at the same time they are also common and universal experiences.
Based on this perspective, I construct images through a set of symbolic codes that can visually suggest these ideas. Within that framework, I freely imagine, rearrange, distort, or reconfigure those codes in different ways. Afterward, I translate the imagery into drawings, and if the image feels visually convincing, I expand it into a painting.
Which are your plans for the near future?
Nothing decided yet haha you don’t need to put this on the interview cause I have nothing to say at this moment.
all images courtesy of the artist