박보선 Park Bosun
Excerpted from 'The Landscape of Being: Emotional Vistas Blooming Through the Cracks of Everyday Life'
Every human being carries within them a profound emptiness—a hollow space in the heart. Sometimes it lies quietly like a deep, still lake; at other times, it becomes an unhealed wound that stings and aches. Perhaps this void is the reason why we feel lonely even in the presence of others, and why solitude never quite brings peace.

Bo-Seon Park begins his work from this place of emptiness and emotional vacancy. In recent years, he has turned to portraying people who carry such deep-seated anxiety and hollowness, yet continue to lead calm, ordinary lives. The void and unrest that lie like unseen holes within the modern psyche can grow until they consume one’s sense of self, resulting in a profound sense of disappearance. Park paints this vanished self with a quiet transparency. Yet despite this subtle sadness, people carry on with their daily lives with a remarkable sense of grace. Park recognizes that this "everyday" is shaped by each person's own emotional texture and the passage of time—each unfolding differently. His work gently touches the lives of contemporary individuals who endure the loss of identity while persisting through time, reminding us that all beings exist everywhere, across all time.

Absence and Anonymity: The Impossibility and Multiplicity of Existence

Park explores the image of modern individuals through a technique that combines everyday scenery with the aesthetic of anonymity—specifically, pixelation. This artistic language arose from his experiences during university, marked by psychological isolation and alienation. Even while surrounded by others, he often felt transparent, as if he did not exist. “I was clearly there,” he recalls, “but it felt like I wasn’t.” This sensation of being “invisible yet present” became a central theme in his practice, visually represented by erasing the essence of figures while leaving only their outlines.

Two key visual strategies emerged from this concept. In one, the figure’s form is filled with the "transparency grid"—a gray-and-white check pattern borrowed from Adobe Photoshop that represents an empty digital space. In the other, the figures are omitted entirely, allowing the background to pass through them. Park primarily employed the former approach. His frequent use of Photoshop at the time made the transparency grid a natural metaphor for absence, as seen in works such as Absence (2019), Brief Conversation (2019), and Faint Steps (2021).

These figures, emptied of their essence and filled with transparency grids, heighten the sense of existential loss. Absence, perhaps the most emotionally resonant of these early works, captures two figures on a bed, each absorbed in their smartphones—sharing space but not true connection. This transparent depiction of absence later evolved into the use of pixelation to signify anonymity.

Although transparency grids and pixelation share a visual resemblance—both using uniform squares—their meanings differ significantly. The transparency grid symbolizes the impossibility of existence, a literal void. In contrast, pixelation suggests anonymity: a multiplicity of possible identities, where any figure could be anyone. This shift in Park’s work—from transparency to pixelation—signals a change in perspective: from a negative focus on existential disappearance to a more accepting, even hopeful view of human anonymity. As Park himself notes, “After my depression eased, it actually became harder to paint the way I used to. Emotional shifts really affect my work. Whereas before I spoke of absence and despair, now my work is more focused on the everyday.” Around 2019, Park’s art was deeply rooted in themes of depression and absence. But as he recovered emotionally through 2020 and 2021, his palette brightened, and his subject matter shifted to scenes of ordinary life—imbued with warm, vivid colors. His personal journey, both emotional and psychological, naturally led to this transformation in artistic expression.

Lev AAN (Art Critic)