She doesn’t need much–just her drawing tool and a screen–to create the trippy, vibrantly colourful works that are, quickly, becoming recognisable. Some of artist Ram Han’s works are animated, but even her stills seem to glow, spin, and flicker with life-force. Growing up in Korea in the 1990s, wherever she went, her pencil and paper pad went with her. But as she grew up, and times changed, as they tend to do, the artist discovered that this thing they called the ‘digital realm’ might have something to offer her. And once she opened the door, there was no going back.
Since studying animation at the Korea National University of Art BFA in Seoul and earning her degree in 2014, Han has committed herself to digital painting. Her pieces reflect, among other things, the experience of coming up in the world as a young woman and of coming into her sexuality. Now married with two cats, at age thirty five, Ram Han’s work continues to be shaped by what’s happening around her and by what’s at the forefront of her mind. As a part of the Decoding Korea exhibit at the Grand Palais Immersif Bastille in Paris this summer, Han joins nine other Korean artists in exploring “notions of memory and the historical contexts specific to their country.” She is here with us today to discuss the Paris exhibition, on view through August 25, as well as her preferred time/place to make art, weird food combos, and possible future directions.
Hello! It’s wonderful to be here with you today. It’s been a while since your last conversation with METAL, and in the interim you’ve produced so much amazing stuff that we cannot wait to ask you about!To get us started off, we have a few icebreakers for you:
What was the last thing you posted on Instagram?
A photo of my cat sleeping in a dresser drawer!
Favourite outfit you’ve worn recently?
A basketball jersey top, moss green-coloured.
What is the last really weird food (or food combination) you ate?
Dried seaweed with sliced almonds– it was actually a really good combination!
So, until the 25th of August, your work is on display in Paris as a part of Decoding Korea, a collection of digital art, at the Grand Palais Immersif Bastille. How exciting! Will you attend the exhibition in person?
Yes, I’m very happy to be able to showcase my work in Paris through this exhibition! Sadly, due to other commitments in Korea, I won’t be able to visit the exhibition in person.
Decoding Korea examines the country’s transformation through recent decades, specifically analysing the ways that politics and technology have changed it, and, in turn, shifted societal norms and the country’s art scene. From what I’ve read, this sounds similar to the themes you tackle in your work. Would you say that’s correct?
I would say so, yes. I don’t work with a specific goal in mind, with a clear sense of theme, but I have been responding to my surroundings as an individual living in changing times, and as a creator driven by a desire to express something.
Your work has been on display many times, mostly in Korea. How does it feel to know your work will be seen by people on the other side of the world?
Recently, I’ve started getting opportunities to exhibit in other countries, which I’m very grateful for. Since I started my work on social media, I know that more than half of the people who like my work are outside of Korea, and I’m happy to be able to show them my work in a physical space.
Do you imagine that this new audience will digest your work differently since they cannot relate to the Korean experience the way you can and your typical audience–since you mostly show in Korea–can?
I think my work is more of a contemporary perspective of a generation that has grown up watching universal media outlets rather than a unique Korean perspective. I don’t have a conscious goal of expressing something particularly Korean. Even as a child born and raised in Korea, my sense of self and values were greatly shaped by my exposure to movies, cartoons, games, and news from other countries. This is, naturally, reflected in my work. Since childhood, media from other cultures has been a source of great inspiration to me, and I hope that that will also help make my work legible to audiences from different cultures.
I read that you studied animation in University. That means that you knew pretty early on that you wanted to pursue art in the digital genre. How did you get from animation to a focus on digital painting of the kind you do now?
The process was so natural that it’s hard to trace back to how exactly it started. I started to like comics and be interested in animation at a very young age, which led to my studying animation at university. Like many other media industries, animation has been digitised. I learned animation during that time of transition, and through classes and self-study, I got used to drawing with digital drawing tools. It was only relatively recently that I’ve defined and conceptualised drawing on a computer as ‘painting.’ That’s when I started thinking about what thoughts and processes go into making a drawing when using digital mediums.
Still, some of your pieces are animated, while the majority are still. Which do you prefer making, and how do you decide whether a given piece of art is okay left as a still, or if it should be animated?
Although I studied animation, I do not feel that all of my work should be animated. I sometimes use animation techniques to take a more filmic approach to my drawings. I prefer to use animation techniques when the final destination of my work is a monitor screen or a digital space like social media. When the work is hanging on a wall in the real world and I want the viewer to recognise it as a painting, I work with still images.
“I don’t work with a specific goal in mind, with a clear sense of theme, but I have been responding to my surroundings as an individual living in changing times, and as a creator driven by a desire to express something.”
Many of your works feature human characters, often close up enough so as to be quite detailed, with expressive faces, etc. Are these characters based off of real people/people in your life, or are they mere anonymous figures?
With the exception of my early work as an illustrator, most of the human bodies in my work are unidentifiable subjects. When I draw them, I don't model them after specific people, nor do I model them after my avatar, so I don't consider them living beings. They are often depicted in the same way as other objects: intertwined with other objects or sitting passively on the screen.
In your last interview with METAL, you said you were drawn to eroticism in your art because of your journey coming into your own sexuality during your twenties, particularly against the backdrop of Korean society and its inner workings. You are now in your thirties and married. Does the subject of sexuality still feel so salient to you, in this new period of your life?
The way I viewed sexuality in my twenties is similar to how I view it now. But my interests have expanded to the surroundings: whereas I used to think about what I was expected to do as a biological female in modern society and my personal feelings about it, I've recently been thinking about how the human body functions in today's society, including my own, through pregnancy and childbirth, physical and mental illnesses, and my personal desires to push back against society's prevailing expectations.
Your work has always been a pretty direct reflection of your introspection and inner musings, correct? As you’ve grown up and as you’ve been grasped by new questions, do you observe your art changing? Can you think of any examples—of things you might not used to have been drawn to, but now are (or vice versa)?
In the past, my work was a relatively clear representation of the idea behind it: if it was a phone, I drew it like a phone, if it was a rabbit, I drew it like a rabbit. Now, I'm less interested in that kind of clarity and more interested in creating things that are superimposed on a single object, or that are ambiguous. It's hard for me to articulate why exactly I have this preference. I imagine there's an algorithm in my brain that favours certain images, similar to how other social media works.
Right now, I’m drawn to comics, fictional images that can be acquired in games: uncomfortable and addictive images that I unintentionally encounter on social media, as well as AI-generated ones, which are detailed but somehow awkward.
Right now, I’m drawn to comics, fictional images that can be acquired in games: uncomfortable and addictive images that I unintentionally encounter on social media, as well as AI-generated ones, which are detailed but somehow awkward.
Is there anyone in your life who you run your art by before publishing it? Or is there anyone you consult for advice when you’re stuck with a digital painting? I’m curious about the roles of mentorship and collaboration in your process.
When working on a personal project, such as an exhibition, I tend to work strictly alone during the conception phase. I collaborate with others on the more technical aspect, like when I need to build light panels, install structures, or code the program to display my work.
What is the Korean art scene like right now? Is there a strong sense of community among artists in that scene?
Honestly, I don’t think I’m in a position to speak on the ecology of the Korean art scene because I’m not an artist who naturally merges into the ecosystem. I do have some friends who do animation, but we all kind of exist like islands, meeting briefly at exhibitions and then isolating ourselves again. One thing I do feel is that there are more and more artists who have other fields of interest at the same time (as opposed to those who pursue art alone). As far as I know, a lot of artists are based in Seoul.
Would you ever consider going abroad to continue your career in a different art scene elsewhere? Why or why not, and if you would consider it, then where might appeal?
That question is always on my mind. If my two cats and husband would let me, I’d like to take the whole crew on an extended adventure around the US, Europe, and other Asian countries. This would hopefully inspire new work that would respond directly to those [new] environments.
Recently, on Instagram, you posted two hand-drawn pieces of work. You captioned one of them, posted on March 21, “I’m enjoying pencil drawings these days.” Might you be interested in expanding your repertoire and experimenting with other mediums, besides digital drawing?
Pencil drawing doesn’t feel like an extension of my current practice but rather a return to a childhood hobby. I work mostly digitally, but sometimes the infinite scalability of the digital environment can be exhausting. On a computer, you can always undo, you can always create a new version. The limited freedom of a single progression to a single outcome is sometimes calming, and that’s why I often return to my pencil drawing roots.
Where is your favourite spot at which to make art? Under what conditions do you work best?
I think it’s more about the time of day than the place: at home when everyone is asleep, late at night or early in the morning, in my study or studio, I can be quite productive. Early morning on the weekend is my favourite time to work.
What’s your favourite piece you’ve made, and why?
My tastes and thoughts tend to be quite fickle, so when I think about my work, my favourite pieces often change. The one that comes to mind right now is Kiss, which I did in 2021. It’s a painting of an alien and a woman kissing. It's a bit of a contrast to my other work; I remember working on it with strong romantic feelings, and I often think that I should do that kind of work more often.
