The black breath of ruins. AN Gyungsu paintworks descend slowly into the depths of time. His world is quiet, yet its silence is unyielding, like the faint resonance that remains long after every sound has disappeared. He turns to the remnants of the world, to landscapes shaped in the aftermath of disaster, to fragments of time that were never remembered, and he engraves within them an ethics of silence.
A stalled construction site in Jeju, a shoreline after the waves have withdrawn, a swimming pool steeped in the shadow of the Holocaust. He does not frame these scenes as evidence of witnessing. Instead, he draws what was unseen, or what one refused to see, into the open space of the image. His brushwork does not accuse reality; it records the silence inside it. Colors sink into a cool stillness, surfaces remain smooth, and structures tremble almost imperceptibly. In AN Gyungsu exhibition Layered, the viewer is met with serene surfaces infused with the weight and sediment of time
A stalled construction site in Jeju, a shoreline after the waves have withdrawn, a swimming pool steeped in the shadow of the Holocaust. He does not frame these scenes as evidence of witnessing. Instead, he draws what was unseen, or what one refused to see, into the open space of the image. His brushwork does not accuse reality; it records the silence inside it. Colors sink into a cool stillness, surfaces remain smooth, and structures tremble almost imperceptibly. In AN Gyungsu exhibition Layered, the viewer is met with serene surfaces infused with the weight and sediment of time
1 November 2025
