[Gallery Walk] Before Trusting in Green

Yeon Minmi Solo Exhibition "The Forest That Exists on Its Own"
The Force of Nature That Arrives Before Comfort
The Hidden Time of Collapse and Recovery Behind the Calm Green

Coffee grounds are usually something to be discarded. After passing through hot water once, their aroma fades and they briefly linger at the bottom of the cup or inside the filter before disappearing. Yeon Minmi has transferred these remnants onto canvas—to paint a forest. Although it may seem like an odd combination, within the exhibition space, this material becomes an apt metaphor. The same can be said for the forest itself. What we easily call "green" already contains the passage of time, broken branches, decayed leaves, and newly grown twigs all mixed together.

21-09_259x388cm_ acrylic, coffee grounds on canvas_ 2021.

Yeon Minmi's solo exhibition, "The Forest That Exists on Its Own," held at Noh Gallery, does not aim to present the forest as simply beautiful. Rather, it interrupts our habit of too hastily declaring the forest beautiful. Since 1994, the artist, who has been based in France, has long used walks through forests, including the Bois de Vincennes, as a starting point for her work. This exhibition runs from May 28 to June 18. The main works on display are pieces from the "Forest Again" series, which utilize acrylic and coffee grounds on canvas.

At first glance, the images feel familiar. There are trees, leaves, and light on the canvas. It seems enough to call it a forest. However, Yeon Minmi's paintings do not permit that naming for long. The trunks are too straight, the shade is too deep, and the green of the leaves sometimes presses in rather than soothing the eyes. Here, nature is not a backdrop for rest, but rather an intense presence. The moment you think you are looking, your eyes become aware of what they might be missing.

Behind this lies the memory of a typhoon that struck Europe in 1999. The artist witnessed trees uprooted and tangled after the storm. Since then, her lines have become not merely tools for depiction, but a way of understanding nature. Knowing this experience, the forest within her paintings looks different. It is not only about the fullness of life; there is also order after collapse, the time of regrowth, and the cracks in the tranquil image that humans have projected onto nature.

Up close, the paintings become even more intriguing. What appeared as a tree from afar becomes the thickness of paint; what looked like leaves turns into particles of color. The surface, mixed with coffee grounds, disrupts any sense of a smooth landscape painting. Rather than trying to resemble the forest, the artwork recreates the sensation of seeing a forest. In reality, we never see the whole forest at once: we notice a patch of sunlight, wet bark, a dark crevice, or the underside of a leaf fluttering in the wind, each separately. The whole is always a name we attach afterward. Yeon Minmi's canvases persistently remind us of this fact.

26-10_ 81x65cm_acrylic, coffee grounds on canvas_2026.

Thus, what matters in this exhibition is not "how much it resembles an actual forest." The issue actually lies on the opposite side. Why do we immediately rush to words like healing, life, and comfort whenever we look at a forest? Does the forest truly exist to comfort us? Nature is not a background that absorbs human feelings; it is a system that has long operated independently of human understanding. This is also why Yeon Minmi's forests appear somewhat indifferent and unyielding.

There are no people in her works. There are no houses, no animals. There are no signs that specify a particular place. Devices that make it easy to construct a narrative are absent. What remains are trunks and leaves, light and darkness, and the viewer's gaze that cannot quite grasp them until the end. This restraint takes the exhibition far from simple praise of nature. The artist does not draw the forest into the realm of human narrative. She merely reveals that the forest, outside of humanity, is already a sufficiently complex entity.

This is why the title "The Forest That Exists on Its Own" feels somewhat cold. Nature existed long before humans gave it a name. We are moved by the sight of a forest, but the forest does not exist to move us. We speak of life in front of it, yet the forest does not distinguish between life and decay.

Byun Yeonmi, artist. Noh Gallery

Rotting leaves and fresh ones, fallen trees and upright trunks coexist in the same moment. Because the forest is not arranged for human convenience, it is the oldest non-human world.

What lingers most as you leave the exhibition is not the brilliance of green, but the unease of your gaze. We thought we understood nature and believed we had seen the forest. Yet in front of Yeon Minmi's paintings, that confidence is gently deferred. Before it is a landscape, the forest is density; before it is comfort, it is strength; before it is an image, it is time. Perhaps, to see the forest is not so much to understand nature, but to learn just how small the human gaze really is. The exhibition runs until the 18th, at Noh Gallery, Insadong-gil, Jongno-gu, Seoul.

This content was produced with the assistance of AI translation services.