Warm Comfort Crafted from Fragments of Hanji: Artist Hee-jung Shin’s 'Pieces of Memory'

• An artist who gathers the scattered fragments of life by tearing and piecing back together Hanji, the traditional paper of her yearning homeland.
• Transcending the boundaries between two-dimensional planes and three-dimensional forms, she captures the deep narratives of our lives within the gaps of layered paper.
• A gentle touch that comforts wounded hearts, serving as a bridge of the mind connecting Canada and Korea.

Can a single sheet of paper, something we see so commonly around us, become a vast vessel capable of holding a person's entire life? The answer can be found in the works of Hee-jung Shin, a Korean-Canadian artist based in Canada. From afar, her artwork resembles a tranquil forest, a rain-soaked city, or a field of reeds swaying in the wind. Step closer, however, and you realize it is an intricate 'tower of memory' built by layering tens of thousands of paper fragments. The reason Shin's work resonates with and captivates so many is that it goes beyond simply painting beautiful pictures; it uses the warm medium of paper to express the processes of 'loss' and 'recovery' we experience in life with striking sincerity.

Her artistic process is highly unique and infused with devotion. She begins by drawing and coloring on Hanji, only to boldly tear or cut it apart. One might wonder why she would destroy something she so carefully created, but for the artist, this step is essential. The experiences of parting, immigration, and losing what is precious in life are much like the pain of tearing paper. However, the artist does not stop there; she meticulously layers and pastes those torn pieces back together, one by one, to form a new shape. This signifies a process of building a stronger self, not by discarding a wounded past, but by embracing even the pain as a precious part of life. This 'deconstruction and reconstruction' is the greatest defining characteristic of Shin's originality.

Many people look at Shin's work and ask, "Is this a painting or a sculpture?" Indeed, her art possesses a profound charm that defies categorization as strictly two-dimensional or three-dimensional. Though it starts on the flat surface of a canvas, the texture created by dozens of layers of Hanji fragments—and the interplay of light and shadow seeping through the gaps—breathes three-dimensional vitality into the piece. If one were to give it a name, it could be called the 'art of layering' or a 'landscape built of paper.' The deep sense of dimensionality created by bringing flat sheets of paper together closely mirrors our own lives, where monotonous, everyday moments accumulate to become an entire 'life.'

Hanji, the primary material used by the artist, is the core medium that reveals her identity. Among the various characteristics of Hanji, Shin focuses particularly on its 'tenacious vitality' and 'gentle embrace.' Unlike Western paper, Hanji—made from the bark of Korean mulberry trees—retains fine, thread-like fibers at its edges no matter how much it is torn. The artist makes no effort to hide these fuzzy fibers. Instead, she deliberately exposes their rough texture, symbolically representing the 'essential roots' that people living in faraway lands, away from their homeland, hold onto no matter how difficult life becomes. Furthermore, Hanji possesses a translucent quality that allows colors to softly bleed through from front to back, which the artist utilizes to express both the faintness and vividness of memory simultaneously. The layered Hanji evokes a mysterious atmosphere, feeling at once like childhood memories faded by time and intense emotions felt in the present moment.

To an artist who creates such extraordinary work, I would like to give the moniker 'a spiritual gardener who mends memories.' Looking at her art, one can almost feel the touch of a gardener painstakingly tending to an overgrown garden, cultivating it into a beautiful flowerbed. She picks out scattered fragments of memory one by one, placing them in their rightful spots to orchestrate harmony. She is not merely gluing paper; she is stitching together the empathy needed to comfort someone's loneliness and longing. The reason one feels a sense of peace standing before her work is likely due to the palpable energy of this devoted 'care.'

Why does Hee-jung Shin insist on working with Hanji—such a labor-intensive medium—in a faraway country like Canada? The answer is deeply tied to her own life experiences as part of the 'diaspora.' Having been born and raised in Korea but now living in Canada, her identity has always been an agonizing puzzle. She sublimated the anxiety and alienation she felt as an entity existing 'in-between'—neither fully Korean nor fully Canadian—into art. For her, Hanji is a lifeline connecting her to her homeland, and the act of tearing and pasting paper is a kind of ritual for finding her place in a foreign land. Therefore, her work transcends a simple personal record; it speaks to the emotions of all immigrants striving to put down roots in corners all across the globe.

As a Korean-Canadian artist, she hopes her work will be remembered as 'evidence of recovery.' She wants people to look at her art and not just think, "Ah, what a wonderful picture made of Korean paper," but rather to find hope, realizing that "even wounded hearts can form a beautiful landscape when gathered together once again." True to an artist who embraces two cultures, her works possess both a Korean warmth and a Western sophistication, earning the empathy of many regardless of nationality.

Among international artists, Mark Bradford of the United States makes for a compelling comparison. He is well-known for creating maps of the city by layering and carving away discarded billboards and paper found on the streets. Shin and Bradford are similar in that they both layer and carve away the medium of 'paper' to forge new meaning. The major difference, however, lies in the 'temperature' imbued within their art. While Bradford's work gives off a cold and intense vibe that exposes the gritty facets of society, Shin's work offers a warm, delicate comfort that strokes inner wounds by utilizing the unique texture of Hanji. If Bradford maps the exterior of a city, Shin maps the landscape of the mind.

Although they belong to different generations and regions of activity, one could say Shin shares certain musical and aesthetic commonalities with Park Seo-bo, the master of Korean Dansaekhwa (monochrome painting). Just as Park demonstrated art as a form of 'ascetic practice'—emptying the mind through relentless repetition—Shin similarly repeats the arduous process of tearing and pasting Hanji piece by piece, much like a meditative discipline. To her, art is not merely about creating a final product; it is a time of meditation where she disciplines her mind and seeks peace through the process. Her recent residency in Jeonju and her exhibition titled 'Still, Wind' were also an extension of this ascetic practice. Through her large-scale works, she brilliantly expressed that subtle state of existence—seemingly still, yet flowing like the wind.

Her authentic endeavors are highly regarded in Canada as well. She has received multiple project grants from the Ontario Arts Council and boasts an impressive array of awards, including a special printmaking award and the Helen L. Cross Memorial Scholarship. Her works are held in various public institutions and galleries across Canada, as well as in the spaces of numerous private collectors who resonate with her sincerity.

Shin's work imparts a precious lesson to us. It is the belief that even if life sometimes tears us apart and causes us pain, if we do not give up and instead painstakingly gather those broken fragments back together, we can complete a landscape of life that is far deeper and richer than before. Hidden among the pieces of Hanji she has layered are the stories of us all. I hope her work, which never loses the comforting warmth of Hanji even in the cold winds of Canada, continues to be a warm ray of sunshine that melts the hearts of many more people to come.