How Korean painter Sihyeon Park captures Vuja de—seeing the familiar as if for the first time

Sihyeon Park at the LA art fair earlier this year. Recent presentations of her work include Gallery YU, the Encinitas Community Center,

Traditional Korean painting meets Californian landscape in Sihyeon Park’s quietly radical practice. Working on Hanji with mineral pigments and glue, she maps the sun, moon, and everyday motifs of her life in the U.S. through the language of Korean painting — a lens she calls “Vuja de,” the sensation of seeing the familiar as if for the first time.

I first saw Park’s work at the Other Art Fair in LA this past fall and was immediately mesmerized. The strong cobalt, with the thin gold lines were captivating and as I dove in further, her inspiration, process, and story left me spellbound.

In this conversation, we talk about the earliest memories that pointed her toward art, what it means to depict America with Korean materials and perspective, and how a single study of Ilwolobongdo (traditional Korean painting depicting The Sun, Moon, and Five Peaks) became the spiritual anchor of an entire series.

Cactus in the Dark, 2025. Park often contrasts saturated cobalt grounds with precise gold linework and cacti in full bloom. Available here.

Was there a specific moment—or piece—when your “déjà vu / vuja de” framework clicked?

After immigrating to the U.S. [from Korea] and experiencing new landscapes and cultures, I often felt a sense of déjà vu. Around that time, I was replicating the traditional Korean painting Ilwolobongdo (The Sun, Moon, and Five Peaks), which once served as the background painting of the throne during the Joseon Dynasty. The work includes mountains, water, pine trees, and rocks — symbols of Korea’s idealized natural harmony.

Ilwolobongdo, 2025. Park’s contemporary interpretation of the historical Korean throne backdrop painting that anchors her Sun and Moon series.

As I studied it, I began noticing parallels between the waves in the painting and the rippling sands of the desert, between the peaks and the canyons of the American West. Watching the sunset in Monument Valley, I thought about how the same sun and moon appear everywhere in the world, symbolizing a universal connection that transcends geography.

I felt a similar resonance when looking at traditional Korean still-life paintings like Chaekgeori or Sogwado. Comparing these historical images with the visual language of my life in America became the starting point of my artistic identity — a perspective shaped by “Vuja de.”

Sogwado (Still Life), 2025. A contemporary still life where the Statue of Liberty, cacti, fruit, and ceramics replace traditional auspicious objects.

How do you define those “Vuja de” for yourself and what kinds of images or situations tend to trigger that feeling?

For me, “Vuja de” is both a perspective and a creative method — a way to express my thoughts through painting. The term originates from déjà vu, but in my work, déjà vu represents only one of many moments of inspiration.

Vuja de isn’t a concept I invented; it has been used in other fields by broadcasters and business thinkers. Whether in art or in business, I believe nothing in the world is entirely new. Creators reassemble and reinterpret what already exists to evoke a sense of freshness for the viewer.

It’s about taking something familiar, something so ordinary that it’s often overlooked, and infusing it with a unique perspective so it feels new again.

I’m drawn to moments when tradition meets modernity, when technologies from different fields intersect, or when distinct cultures come together in harmony — instances that feel at once familiar and new.


Sun and Moon Exhibit

Sun, Moon and Cactus, 2023. Monument Valley rendered through mineral pigments on hanji — a Western landscape imagined through a Korean painter’s eye.

Sun and Moon is your first series that is currently on exhibit at the Community Center of Encinitas. What’s the core idea you’re exploring in this show?

Sun and Moon is my first series, and its key theme is harmony. In the traditional Korean painting Ilwolobongdo, the sun and moon symbolize the balance of yin and yang. In a similar way, my works express the harmony between East and West — reflecting my own experiences.

I also use the sun and moon as symbols of universality. They exist everywhere in the world, connecting us through shared emotions and a sense of empathy. Although we may look different and think differently, we all share this universal essence. My paintings capture that wish — that we can live in harmony through what we have in common.

If the exhibition were a sentence, what would it say?

A Western landscape seen through the sensibility and brush of a Korean artist awakens vuja de — the wonder of rediscovering the familiar — and gently leads us toward harmony.

Seeing America through Korean Technique

A Tree in the Dark, 2025. The rippling desert ground echoes wave patterns from traditional Korean painting. Similar here and here.

What does it mean for you to depict “America” through Korean materials?

When I paint, I often find myself wondering: Has anyone ever painted an orange in this traditional Korean technique — either in Korea or America, thirty years ago? Has anyone depicted a cactus this way? Or a California poppy on Hanji?

Just as native Californian plants and animals don’t appear in historical Korean paintings, capturing this landscape with traditional Korean materials feels uniquely special to me. It’s a way of reimagining America through the lens of a distinctly Korean artistic heritage.

Works from Park’s Chaekgeori (Books and Things) series, reimagining folk painting traditions of abundance and good fortune.

What do you hope an American viewer notices that a Korean viewer might see differently (and vice versa)?

One of my inspirations comes from Minhwa, or Korean folk painting. In Minhwa, people once painted symbolic objects and animals to express their wishes — for filial piety, wealth, success, fertility, or longevity. They would hang these paintings in their homes as visual prayers for a good life.

In America, there isn’t really a tradition of painting for blessings like filial devotion or long life. Through my work, I hope to introduce that sensibility — to share how images can embody heartfelt hopes and values.

Materials, Technique, and Form

Which Korean materials or methods are most essential in your studio—and why?

The thickness of Hanji (traditional Korean paper) varies depending on the painting method. I use double-layered Hanji made by attaching two sheets of thin single-layer paper (hotji). While similar papers exist in China and Japan, Korean Hanji best conveys the subtle textures and emotions I seek in my work.

Because I use traditional Korean techniques, every single material — paper, pigment, glue — is essential; omitting even one makes it impossible to complete the painting as intended.

Korean painter Sihyeon Park working with traditional brushes and ink on hanji at Art Night, Encinitas Community Center.

Do you build works from studies or improvise on the surface?

My process is highly deliberate rather than improvisational. I prepare meticulously before beginning a piece because once a brushstroke or wash of color touches the Hanji, it’s nearly impossible to alter.

Before applying any pigment to the actual work, I always test the colors and techniques on extra sheets of paper to ensure they behave exactly as I intend.

What is your color logic—intuitive, symbolic, or rule-based?

All three. My use of color balances intuition, symbolism, and an understanding of traditional harmony.

Succulents in a Pot, 2025. In this series, the colored areas represent the artist herself — “revealing my own true color amid the brilliance that surrounds me.”; Similar in red here.

Which artists, designers, films, or writers feel like kindred spirits to your practice?

Many traditional Korean Minhwa (folk paintings) were created by unknown artists. Though these works were not technically sophisticated or compositionally complex, they were cherished in ordinary homes — paintings through which people expressed their hopes and joys.

Their directness, sincerity, and pursuit of happiness through art resonate deeply with me. In that way, I feel a strong kinship with the anonymous spirit of Minhwa.


LOTA Fast Three

Your favorite color and why?

I’m not sure if I love gold itself or simply the color of gold, but I’m drawn to its luminous, shimmering quality.

One non-art thing in your studio you keep nearby when creating — and what’s its story?

Coffee, of course. It keeps me grounded and marks the rhythm of my day.

An artist who inspires you—who, and what do they teach you?

Throughout history, there have been countless remarkable and renowned artists. Rather than being deeply influenced by a single one, I feel that I’ve absorbed a little bit from many — each in their own way. Some artists inspire me with their philosophy, others with their style, and some with the stories behind their work.

I don’t expect to inspire others in every aspect, but I hope to become an artist who, at least in one way or another, offers something to learn from.


Thank you Sihyeon for sharing your story, process, and work! You can follow Siheyon on Instagram @artist_sihyeonpark and buy her work on Saatchi Art.

All images courtesy the artist.

Note: This post contains some affiliate links, so if you chose to purchase something via a link with an affiliate fee I make a small commission at no cost to you.

Previous
Previous

Who really shapes culture: critics, VCs, movie merch, or sculptures on the beach

Next
Next

Gift Guide: Art Books and Beautiful Objects for Design Lovers