A trio of small pottery shards, two painted on linen and one terracotta, nestle in a walnut frame for Dabin Ahn‘The circle of life’. These fragments, displayed on copper dowels, depict different stages of vitality, whether a faintly speckled butterfly or an extinguished candle, leaving a thin wisp of smoke on the canvas.
By blurring the boundary between two and three dimensions, Ahn regularly strives for balance. When depicting deep shadows and melancholic moods, he spreads soft light through candles and fireflies. These ephemeral, dynamic forms also counteract the static motifs that decorate his vessels.
“Everything I do is written,” the artist adds, noting that the actual pottery shards are not found objects, but meticulously carved fragments of a planter in his studio.
Ahn was born in Seoul and grew up in a creative family. His father is a renowned actor Ahn Sung Kiand the basic principles of filmmaking – following a script, framing a shot to capture a mood, evoking emotional responses – inform part of the artist’s practice. After a mandatory two years in the Korean Air Force, the artist completed his studies at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and he still calls the city home.
As a student, Ahn dabbled in abstraction before settling firmly into representation, starting with self-portraits and later venturing into still life. Part of that decision came from a desire to work with multiple access points. For example, a viewer might appreciate the delicate interplay of light and shadow in “Aura” without an intimate knowledge of Korean porcelain traditions. But just like the small scenes the artist puts into the sides of paintings, there is always more to discover in his work if you look closely.
Ahn is deeply involved in the art history and ceramic practices of his native Korea. His ships often summon the white porcelain tableware of the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910), elegant forms that evoke the purity and minimalism of Neo-Confucian thought. Cobalt motifs and a blue hue later emerged as a rare and highly prized variation on the traditional barrels.
Although Ahn no longer makes self-portraits, his works are always autobiographical and reflect what is happening in his life. As he opens his solo exhibition, Good things take timethis week at Harper’s Gallery in New York, he is more hopeful than he has been in a while.
Ahn’s father was diagnosed with cancer in 2020, and the artist has spent the past four years processing and grieving the news. “It really affected the reality of things,” he said. “My work was everywhere. I was making paintings. I made sculptures. The image wasn’t really there and it wasn’t coherent. I just wasn’t mentally stable at the time, maybe a little too depressed.”
Last year Ahn decided to scrap the work he was making and start over. Rather than face the vast, if not daunting, white space of a blank canvas, he started small by painting a tapered candle on the side frame. “It was a very meditative process. Candles are related to meditation and contain a lot of emotion. It was really calming for me,” he adds.
He began cutting away parts of frames to reveal smaller works within the larger composition. Today his studio is divided in two to create a clean space for painting and another space for his wood workshop. Reflective and incredibly focused, Ahn works on both parts of a composition simultaneously, creating an ongoing conversation between painting and sculpture.
Candles play a prominent role in this new body of work, providing a counterpoint to the sometimes somber elements of the artist’s work. Symbols of hope and warmth: the flames gently illuminate the remains of a barrel or the beveled edges of a wooden frame.
Likewise, the butterflies and moths painted on the pottery shards are confronted by vibrant insects that, in the case of ‘Twin Flame’, cast a shadow as they flutter across the canvas. He adds:
I choose to depict insects not only because they appear in some of the objects I reference, but because they almost feel like a universal language, similar to how candles are among the most easily recognizable objects. I want my works to be approachable and inviting to all audiences, regardless of their background.
Although they contain remnants of previous oeuvres, these new paintings mark a turning point. “I think I’m done with the really sad sadness,” says the artist. ‘It’s bright, almost cheerful. This time there is hope.”
Good things take time can be seen until December 7. Find more from the artist at Instagram.
