Jinsil Lee: Opposites living together

Niio Editorial

Jinsil Lee is a visual artist based in Seoul, South Korea. She earned a BFA degree in 2019 from School of Visual Arts, New York City, where she initially developed her photography work. She later on moved to Seoul, where she continues her career as an artist while working as a content specialist at Tesla Korea. Her work has been featured on the Samsung US website and Samsung Mobile USA social channels, and she has also participated in group shows such as the Naver Z Metaverse Exhibition (2022), Pulse Art Fair in Miami (2019), and School of Visual Arts Mentor Show (2019).

On the occasion of her first solo artcast on Niio, Transcendence, we talked with Jinsil about her creative process and the way she transforms scenes captured in her daily environment into mesmerizing abstract compositions. 

Jinsil Lee. Dream of a summer night, 2019

You studied at the NY School of Visual Arts and currently live and work in Seoul as a visual artist and content specialist. Both New York and Seoul are vibrant cities, each with their own pace and culture. What has been more inspiring to you from your experience living and developing your career between the US and South Korea?

New York and Seoul are very similar and different cities. Both cities are full of their own charm, and both have been very inspiring to me in different ways. I grew up in Korea, so I’m more influenced by Korean culture in terms of the way I think and the language, but it was in the US where I really started to pursue art. I was able to explore art more freely in New York with its huge art scene, various art fairs, galleries, and artists, and this has greatly influenced my work today. Both cities have influenced me in different ways. Seoul has influenced me as a person, and New York has influenced my artistic work.

“I’ve lived in cities all my life, so I have a longing for nature.”

Your work is based on photography, yet it becomes a moving, abstract image. Can you explain to us your creative process? How does the transition from the captured image to the final composition come about?

I’ve been drawing since I was a kid. In my teenage years, I mostly painted in oils, and I loved the freedom to express whatever I imagined on the canvas. Then I started photography and applied my painting style to the medium of photography. I took a series of photographs and used tools like Photoshop to create short videos, and then I moved on to working with footage shot in video format.

Jinsil Lee. Sunset Town, 2018

Scenes from daily life and natural landscapes are sources of inspiration in your work. What are you most attracted to? Do you consider the scenes in front of you in terms of their aesthetics (colors, light, movement) or do you also consider their context, the meanings and stories that underlie the image you are capturing?

I’ve lived in cities all my life, so I have a longing for nature. I work and live in a big building in the city, but I question every day whether this environment is right for our bodies and minds, so when I’m close to nature, I feel an indescribable sense of awe. I think about this a lot, especially when I’m at the beach and I’m looking at the water moving like it’s breathing and the sunlight shining on it, and I realize that it’s so much like a human being, and I think about how long they must have traveled to get to where I am, and I think about how the moment that I’m in with them feels like a miracle, and it’s amazing. The visual beauty in front of me inspires me, but I think it’s probably the backstory that has a bigger impact on me.

Jinsil Lee. 20 18, 2018

Abstract art seeks the essence of things and at the same time removes the viewer from any reference to a specific time or space. What do you find most interesting about focusing on abstraction? What do you think that might be missing from the first-hand experience you get while capturing the original images?

I think there’s a lot of power in abstract art, and the reason I loved painting as a kid was that I was free to express my thoughts on a white canvas. I think abstract art, similar to the experience of painting, gives the audience a bigger room to run around in by removing the boundaries, and that’s the power of abstract art, that other people can see what I’ve imagined and they can develop their own imagination. That’s how we connect through art, and I think it’s very similar to nature, where everything is connected organically. So I try to make the forms as minimal as possible, and then I use the power of color to replace them, so that the audience doesn’t see them in their rawest state, but on the other hand, they see them in their most basic, unclothed form.  

”The power of abstract art is that other people can see what I’ve imagined and they can develop their own imagination.”

Water, oceans, fluids, are common elements in your work. This is often combined with symmetrical structures, creating a certain tension between order and chaos, staticity and fluidity. What do you find most interesting about this tension between opposites? Could there be one without the other?

I love the book White by Hara Kenya, and there’s a quote in it that goes something like this. “The black color of type is only truly valuable when it is paired with the white it is based on.” I believe that two opposites are more valuable when they coexist, like you can only feel joy when there is sadness, and that’s why I like to play with this idea. In fact, my biggest inspiration is nature, but capturing it as a pixel-based digital photograph and editing it through digital tools, I think this process is very similar to human life. There are quiet people and there are loud people, there are people like me who are good at drawing but not so good at talking, and there are people who are better at expressing themselves through words than through drawings. I think my artistic process is a lot like our lives, where we have these opposites living together.  

Jinsil Lee. 4AM, 2019

While your compositions are abstract and rationally geometric, the titles of your artworks suggest a narrative, which in some cases is expressed with words, as in These Foolish Things. Can you elaborate on the use of narrative in your work?

One of the most important things in my life is music. I feel unimaginable happiness from a favorite song and can be immersed in that emotional state for long periods of time. So when I start listening to a song, I usually memorize the lyrics from start to finish, and then I take those lyrics and rearrange them or turn the words into something that expresses my thoughts and use them in my artwork. I think it’s interesting that in this process, I’ll be thinking about the song while looking at my work, but I’m taking the audience into a world that I’ve “recreated”.  

“My artistic process is a lot like our lives, where we have these opposites living together”

Sound and music also play a role in your work, which is sometimes silent, and sometimes features a music score or the sounds of the environment you recorded. Can you tell us a bit more about the connection between images and sound, and what leads you to choose whether the piece will be silent, with music, or ambient noise?

I often meditate, and sometimes music helps me to focus, and sometimes I’m able to focus more deeply when there is no sound at all. When I work on my art, I feel similar to when I meditate, sometimes I work with music and sometimes I work in a silent environment. For each piece, I choose sound to support the audience’s visual experience, and sometimes I choose silence so that the audience can focus on the visual experience alone.

Jinsil Lee. In Your Orbit, 2019

The growing influence of AI in the visual arts offers artists the possibility to work with source material that doesn’t exist, but is created by a prompt. Are you interested in incorporating this technology into your work, for instance to start with an AI-generated video and then turn it into an abstract composition, or else use real footage and transform it with the aid of AI tools?

100%. I consider my work to be a 3 way collaboration between nature, myself and digital technology. I am quite interested in how digital cameras capture and read moments. For example, the actual color I remember is often not the same as the color the digital camera reproduces, but I find the process and how it works fascinating, so I use it as it was captured. In this context, the idea of AI generating an image based on the data it has stored over the years, with prompts from me, is very interesting.

“I want to create a work of art in which I and the AI imagine a universe that I can’t actually photograph.”

It’s a vague idea, but I want to create a work of art in which I and the AI imagine a universe that I can’t actually photograph. If so, I’m very excited to see where that AI’s data comes from and how amazing it would be to see how it came to meet me.

Jaime de los Ríos: sculpting infinity

Pau Waelder

Jaime de los Rios (Donostia/San Sebastian, 1982) is a visual artist and programmer, founder of the open laboratory of art and science ARTEK[Lab] (2007). An expert in free software and hardware, he has developed over the last decades a body of work that blends contemporary art, science and technology, creating immersive environments and generative works, often in collaboration with other artists, scientists and engineers. 

On the occasion of his solo exhibition “El problema de la forma” at Arteko Gallery, we present in Niio a selection of his recent digital works and conduct this interview in which we delve into the career, work processes and inspiration of the Spanish artist. 

Explore a selection of artworks by Jaime de los Rios in On The Problem of Form

Jaime de los Ríos. LeVentEtSaMesure I, 2024

As a visual artist and programmer, you unite the two essential aspects of digital creation. What led you to develop your career in this field? Which aspect tends to prevail, the one that seeks a particular aesthetic expression, or the one that seeks to experiment with new technologies?

I consider that creation is intimately linked to the paradigm that the artist inhabits. In my case, different contemporary aspects intersect that have led me to use new technologies, as well as the aesthetics of these technological times. I did my studies in electronic engineering and I was educated to successfully manage the technical capabilities of my time. However, in the process of learning, certain desires and results have come in the way. These were not initially desired, but they responded to a philosophy or a concern. I remember well when I had to program an automaton that controlled a traffic light and I forced it to make a certain error that made the three lights blink in a randomized cycle. This reminded me of the famous movie “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” (Steven Spielberg, 1977) and how it used the language of sound and color, with the notes Sol re Sol. There I realized that to control the technology of the moment was also to be able to use the best tools in a critical and aesthetic way and that in such a technologized society artists have an important role to reconfigure or offer a political view of the situation. 

I work mainly with algorithms. I don’t always do it from a programming language but the logic is the same. I compose simple systems that are governed by different equations: these combinations make the system complex, quantum we could say. In its infinity I cannot know how the system will behave at a given moment but I can frame its behavior. It is like sculpting infinity. When handling these systems, I navigate among the mathematics themselves and it is these that make the possibilities emerge that perhaps would never have been in my head if I had thought about it from the beginning, so aesthetics and technology are absolutely linked to each other.

In your work there are influences of geometric abstraction and the work of pioneers such as Manfred Mohr. What references have marked the visual vocabulary of your works?

Of course, Manfred Mohr, Vera Molnar, Frieder Nake…. And also the whole ecosystem of the Computing Center of Madrid, including artists such as José Luis Alexanco or Elena Asins. At the moment when these artists became acquainted with computation through the computer there is a moment of singularity that is very inspiring for me and can be appreciated in my last exhibition. The precarious resources, such as simple geometries, and yet the great capacity for resolution are undoubtedly a great metaphor for the work of these artists in their time. It is the first  painting made using a computer, but it has immense poetics. 

I have arrived in my work to these artists that I already knew but I have done it at a later time, after exploring the history of painting itself and activating algorithms in a pictorial way. In recent years I have wanted the work to speak of its own support and its own algorithms in a transparent way and that is why the elements I use are precisely reminiscent of that synthetic painting.

Jaime de los Ríos. FlyTheProblem, 2024

A main aspect of your work lies in the use of generative algorithms to create constantly morphing compositions, with each work being what Frieder Nake once defined as “the description of an infinite set of drawings.” What attracts you to the possibilities of generative art? What is it like to conceive of a work that does not consist of a finished visual composition, but rather a set of instructions and behaviors?

It is undoubtedly one of the great differences with respect to plastic art. Algorithms allow us to think and develop artworks that change endlessly. We work with movement, fundamentally, let’s say that so far we have a new characteristic which is rhythm and we leave behind, as if it were a curse, the texture and smell of painting. 

Here there are also two types of digital artists, those who direct their creation to something they have previously thought of and others like me who navigate mathematics and in the dialogue with the algorithm itself we let emergencies flow, but then both types of artists need to conceive the work as a system, a framework of possibilities. The work is never solved but it is enclosed in a space of freedom. 

The most exciting thing about this technique, I would say, is to reach the infinite in a poetic way that enables contemplation. To do this, and knowing that it is a post-editing technique, that is, it does not begin or end, we only have to look at nature, the largest infinite system that can be known. From there it is trapped into mathematics and transferred to aesthetic systems. Some artists do it in a very direct and figurative way, others use a system of color and a rhythm that we can perceive as human beings, everyday phenomena such as the reflection of the light in the sea, the shoals of fish or the choreography of birds. 

“The work is never solved, but locked in a space of freedom.” 

In addition to pictorial references, in your work you have explored the relationships between digital art and film, using Gene Youngblood’s concept of “expanded cinema”, and also with the electroacoustic music of Iannis Xenakis, as well as jazz. What do these connections with film and music bring to digital art, and especially to your work?

My work is an incessant search for pictorial, tactile, and sound systems. However, I rarely generate my own sound, so I use the mathematics of music to apply it to the artworks. Many of us electronic art artists work transcoding data, that is, a work can be silent and at the same time have a lot of musicality as is the case of my work on Iannis Xenakis, where I use his famous equation, the curve, which he applied on the one hand in architecture but also in sound composition, to move a series of kinetic artifacts that are like windmills. By activating a movement directly proportional to this curve and also generating a very powerful rotational sound, the whole immersive work, which is also projected, forms a universe that evokes the work of Xenakis. It is almost a scientific experiment: what would have happened if we human beings did not have the sensors to hear, and had to translate those frequencies in the form of color, for instance.

Jaime de los Ríos. pixelsunshine, 2024

Telepresence is a concept you have worked with in several projects, which have notably incorporated a complex interaction between devices, people, and spaces. What attracts you to the possibility of creating these remote connections? Based on your experience with these projects, how do you see the ubiquity of digital art through platforms like Niio, which make it easy to integrate artworks on any screen?

The telepresence I worked with is situated in time between the utopia of net art, the rhizomatic connection, and the quantum era of entanglement. It is one of those concepts that are human aspirations and that Roy Ascott and Eduardo Kac, of course, talked about and developed a lot. In the days of the Intact collective we did teleshared actions between many places around the world. The most interesting thing is that they were not based on video as in our new tools, but given the precariousness of the Internet connection what we sent was mostly mathematics. So I became an interactive beacon of light to the music coming from the SAT in Montreal thanks to the data flowing through the fiber optic cables. 

Niio is a revolution for digital art, it takes advantage of the nature of the medium and takes art out of the black box. One of the big problems of art today is that it has not changed at the pace of society, today we must be accessible and in the pockets of the user, the art lover and not exclusively in centers or institutions and galleries, which of course provide a great value to the work but limit access. Likewise, one of the characteristics that most interests me about Niio is to be able to enjoy the works in privacy, at a contemplative pace and in a space of one’s own without the pressure of contemporary daily life. Enjoying the work during different times throughout a day, a week or as long as you wish, that is the way in which art becomes great and we truly understand it.

“One of the features that interests me most about Niio is being able to enjoy the works in privacy, at a contemplative pace and in a space of one’s own without the pressure of contemporary daily life.”

Your works have occupied the facades of large buildings such as the Etopía center in Zaragoza or the Kursaal in Donostia. What are the challenges of creating a work for the public space and in large dimensions? How would you say they contribute to raising awareness and appreciation of digital art? 

Besides the technical complications, because each digital facade has its own nature, what I am most interested in is to dialogue with the space, to reduce the gap between art that people feel safe with and is part of their history and digital art. Of course this is not the same everywhere. For example, in the city of Zaragoza, which is closely linked to classical art, I created a work called Goya Disassembled. It was the first work made for the facade of the art and technology center Etopia and the result of an artistic residency in this cultural institution. It was an infinite work in which the artist’s entire color palette was displayed, based on all his paintings and drawings. In most of the cities of the world this work would be a rhythm of colors, however in the Aragonese city it spoke of its history and the people who saw it knew perfectly well that these are the colors that in one way or another inhabit the city: dark, strong colors, just like the paintings that they know and love so much of Francisco de Goya

Jamie de los Ríos. Crimson Waves, 2021. Kursaal, Donostia/San Sebastián. Photo: Sara Santos

Much of your work is characterized by collaborations with other artists or collectives. What have these collaborations contributed to your work? How does the creative process differ when you work on a piece individually from when you work as part of a team?

My artistic work has always been linked to collaboration, and I think that in general all artists working with new technologies are constantly busy! In my case I think that for better or worse I have developed a more personal line and when I have the opportunity to work with other artists in the creation, being a very hard and difficult process, it allows me to get out of my more personal line and activate other issues. If I look back, I’d say that when I work in a collective I am much more political and semantic, while when I work on my own I’m more romantic and liberated. 

In any case there are different types of collaborations. When you work with different disciplines, for example in my case I have worked with musicians, we allow ourselves to be ourselves and reach something common. When you work with other digital or plastic artists you have to create a whole new space, that’s why many times you start from discussions and it’s more complicated to speak from the heart.

“When I work with a collective I’m more political and semantic whereas when I work on my own I am somewhat more romantic and liberated.”

You have a long experience in the design and technical coordination of digital art exhibitions and events in Spain, such as the Art Futura festival or the exhibition “Sueños de Silicio,” among many others. From this perspective, how have you seen the presentation and reception of digital art in Spain evolve? What successes and missed opportunities would you point out, globally?

This is a complicated question and at the same time essential to understand the contemporaneity of electronic art. I will begin by talking about the artists themselves and how they have been affected by the way of exhibiting this type of art, which is often related to spectacle and the possibilities of the future of art. Electronic, digital and new media art has been closely linked to the exhibition of new technologies and this has generated a precarious business model for artists who, by collaborating with more people, generate grandiloquent and very expensive works. The spectacularization of the medium has not served to professionalize the artists but rather the other way around, we have festivals in which we seek to be impressed by the use of new technology, and this has caused us to generate a niche, a place apart from contemporary art. 

This is not bad per se, but we must enable new paths, encourage professionalization and the labor of art, with works in a smaller scale but also more linked to a personal production. This may sound a bit classical but I had the opportunity to work with the Ars Electronica archive some time ago for the curatorship of a small exhibition in Bilbao. The vast majority of artists who participated in this festival throughout its history do not create art anymore. Perhaps it is still a very young art. 

Finally, I would like to add that I work at the New Art Collection and I study the work of artists in the technological field. In recent years there has been a great step forward in the field of collecting, with serious proposals from the creators that will allow new generations to enjoy this art.

Jaime de los Ríos. Scintillant, 2019. Collaboration with IED Kunsthal Bilbao and Susana Zaldívar.

Over the last two decades you have been active in the training aspect of digital art, running workshops and being part of teams in medialabs, notably as founder of ARTEK [Lab] at Arteleku. Can you give me an overview of the genesis and development of the maker and open source communities in Spain? How have the collaborative and training spaces in which you have participated influenced the development of a digital art scene in Spain? How has the reception of digital art that you mentioned in the previous question affected these spaces?

I have great memories of the first digital artists I met in Spain. They were linked to centers like medialab Prado. They were collectives like Lumo, which lived in a space of open creation, where they worked in the technological field from a political position of open source but also aesthetics. Not to beat around the bush, I will say that all this changed with the arrival of the maker movement. Being interesting and positive in the first instance, this movement took the political facet (open source, collaboration, etc.) and turned it into its emblem but left behind the aesthetic and even critical field. It linked creation to a certain machinery and it can be said that it made us almost slaves of those machines. 

I lost many people along the way who, from being free researchers, turned exclusively to machines and the machinery of the market. I would say that here there is a first stage which is the hackmeeting, hacktivism as epicenter and hybridization of new ways of thinking in terms of technopolitical, cosmovisionary feminism, and then maker culture, a reductionism with neoliberal tendencies, oriented to generate a third industrial revolution linked to new economies. 

“We have festivals where we seek to impress ourselves by the use of new technology, and this has caused us to generate a niche, a place apart from contemporary art.”

You are currently working as advisor and technical coordinator of the New Art Foundation, the largest collection of digital art in Spain. What challenges does the preservation of digital art pose, and how do you see the future of this type of artistic creation in terms of its permanence in institutional collections and the knowledge of its history?

Indeed, I am the technical director of the collection and I am passionate about it. We work with more than one hundred and fifty works, 95% of which belong to living artists. From the first thoughts on cybernetics in the video art of Peter Weibel to the generative art of Alba Corral. All the works are of a different nature and this implies a maximum challenge, a knowledge of thousands of sub technologies, different operating systems and different interfaces. It is still a path that is being generated thanks also to the support of all the artists, but it is certainly a collective challenge that we face and we want our works to survive in the future. 

If I have to give some advice, in order for our works to be enjoyed in the future, I would comment that it is important that we work with tools that we know very well, that we make them our own and little by little we feel that we control those supports absolutely. Our lines of code are our paint strokes and the screens, our canvases, appropriating their colors and their movements. This may sound a bit unpopular, but the field of collecting requires a certain security when it comes to a work working or being restored. We are also developing protocols for the collection that make it possible to arrange the craziest works, of course! 

Jaime de los Ríos. Vortex, 2024

In “The problem of form”, your current exhibition at Arteko Gallery, from which we present a selection of digital pieces in Niio, you recover the connection between painting and algorithmic creation that underlies much of your work. The exhibition combines digital works with pieces on paper and digital printing on aluminum. At the current moment of maturity in your career, how do you conceive the role of digital art in relation to other forms of contemporary artistic creation? How has the exhibition been received in the context of a contemporary art gallery?

I’m really excited about exhibiting at Niio, the exhibition has expanded in an unimaginable way. Now it travels through the networks and sneaks into screens all over the world. It is a very personal work that above all I have been able to exhibit in my homeland. After several exhibitions in the Arteko gallery, I can say, and this seems to me very important, that people have made my art their own. 

In times of globalization and the tentacular capacity of the Internet, it is common to think that the number of “likes” is more important than the number of people around you. This is why the exhibition has been very successful, even in terms of sales! And nowadays I would say that digital art is already part of contemporary art. Both art lovers and people who are more distant from the medium are already more familiar with this movement that speaks of issues they are aware of, and uses the same tools they use in their daily lives.

“For our works to be enjoyed in the future, it is important that our lines of code are our paint strokes and the screens our canvases.”