Leah Kang (b. 1981, Korea) is a visual artist whose practice combines hanji (traditional Korean paper), mineral pigments (seokchae), bunchae, and ink. Through collage and abstraction, she explores fragmentation, memory, and resilience, creating surfaces that echo both Korean heritage and Art Informel sensibilities. Kang received her MFA in Fine Arts from the Graduate School of Hongik University, Seoul. Her works have been featured in group exhibitions and recognized in international open calls, positioning her within a global conversation on cultural identity and contemporary abstraction.
While much of contemporary painting relies on oil or acrylic on canvas, my practice insists on hanji (traditional Korean paper) and mineral pigments. These materials, rooted in Korean tradition, create tactile surfaces that ferment like time itself—layers of pain and memory gradually transforming into color. By merging this materiality with the radical spontaneity of Art Informel, my work positions Korean heritage within a global dialogue of abstraction.
Artist Statement
Time never moved in a straight line through suffering. There were seasons of deep depression and the pull of death, yet within my paintings, everything remained strangely still. I painted to survive, to escape, and to confront the hidden parts of my unconscious. Even in despair and sorrow, my work retained a quiet calm. Transforming pain into image became a path toward healing, and as Dostoevsky once said, “If there is one thing I fear, it is that my suffering will be meaningless.”
My practice is rooted in Korean materials and sensibilities. Working on hanji (traditional Korean paper) with ink, mineral pigments (seokchae), and powder pigments (bunchae), I divide the surface like Korean patchwork (jogakbo), combining collage with cubist experiments since 2022. In 2025, I began a new body of work centered on fragmented forms. Hanji, with its inherent physicality, resonates deeply with Art Informel. Torn or layered, it reveals its fibers; when wet, it blurs and warps, producing unexpected effects that preserve the immediacy of emotion and gesture. Its blend of tradition and contemporaneity allows it to become the very skin of feeling in my work.
Art, to me, is like fermentation. On the surface, nothing seems to happen, yet quietly and slowly—deeply and intensely—it matures. It asks for no rush, no haste, allowing color and fragrance to grow within. Pain, endurance, anger, avoidance, self-reproach, silence, and wandering—only after passing through such seasons can one arrive at the depth of Van Gogh’s sky, O’Keeffe’s flowers, or Urtharno’s life-like lines. This is my own fermentation process, where my unique color and scent take shape, bringing me closer to the truth of my own soul.
I began later than most. I married, raised a child, and only truly embarked on this journey in 2022. At times I wondered, Am I too late? Now I am certain—I will paint until the end of my life. And I hold a quiet conviction that one day, someone will truly see what I have created. That the silent trace of a life saved by art will remain—and that alone will be enough.
