The first time I encountered the work of artist Kim Mi-Yon, a famous quote by French novelist and playwright Honoré de Balzac came vividly to mind, preserving a youthful memory from my early years:

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“A woman is a delightful instrument of pleasure, but we must know how to play her; we must study her trembling strings, her peculiar prose, and her shy range, and observe the whimsical movement of her fingers.”

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When we speak of aesthetic actions or experiences, we often turn to proverbs that describe the violin:

“To play the violin, one must choose between precise tuning or the rhythmic flair of a gypsy.”
“Friendships are like violin strings—don’t tighten them too much.”
“Buy to the sound of cannons, sell to the sound of violins.”

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I believe Kim Mi-Yon’s lyrical expressionist paintings are deeply entwined with the theme of love—not as a mere emotion, but as a kind of elevated virtue, far more ideal than any spoken expression. If one desires to learn how to love, it must be acquired in the same way one learns music, painting, woodworking, medicine, or mechanics—as a craft, through practice and discipline.

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Love is an art, like music. It infuses emotion through sequences of delicacy, vibrancy, and at times, passionate intensity. Among all forms of art, music holds the greatest power to console us. It speaks intimately to both our bodies and souls. Perhaps this is why we so naturally understand it—we consume it exponentially, and access to it has never been easier. One might conclude, then, that it is the soul of the artist that composes the score.

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Like music and art, a love for nature can transcend political and social boundaries. Art is not merely a tool for pleasure—it is a symbol of human rights. Thus, no one can easily define the genius of poets, artists, musicians, physicists, or mathematicians in a single word. They themselves are the embodiment of genius, the shortcuts to discovery, the brave pioneers of roads never before traveled.

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Who could ever criticize Kim Mi-Yon’s passion? Surely these are not the only beautiful things in the world—but are they not also the very source that welcomes heroism, passion, poetry, music, and art? For Kim, music is a form of art that helps one navigate life, rather than escape it. Music, in its purest form, should exist to bring joy to others—for excessive complexity contradicts the very essence of art.

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Kim Mi-Yon’s pictorial world, like music and all things outside the realm of language, can indeed be “translated.” Yet above all, it interprets equivalences, words, rhythms, and sounds. The dignity of art perhaps reveals itself most profoundly through music, because music is a medium unconstrained by obligations or limitations. It operates purely within the realms of form and content. Moreover, music elevates and ennobles everything it expresses.

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In this way, following her episodic engagement with music, Kim Mi-Yon introduces metaphorical elements into her work. The female body playing a string instrument emerges repeatedly as a leitmotif. These figurative forms should be clearly distinguished. The explosive energy of lyrical expressionism, which anchors this identity, remains ever vibrant. Whenever a woman’s body appears, pastel tones erupt and seamlessly dissolve into the canvas. This suggestive and idealized space has come to define her recent compositions.

 

This is reminiscent of Jean-Luc Lopez’s signature work The Cello of Passion (2022), which also resonates with a pastel color palette. Ultimately, a significant contrast exists between Kim Mi-Yon’s works and those of abstract expressionist master Jean Messagier. Messagier’s recent works feature geometrical divisions and glued, paste-like paper elements. His style evolves from gradual, well-defined forms into freer gestural expressions. His works resemble those that prioritize expression over form.

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Messagier himself transitioned from geometric abstraction into a highly diverse and diffuse style characterized by natural spontaneity—depicting passion, violence, and rebellion. This can also be seen in Jacques Doumiougnon's Neo-Cubist works produced between 1995 and 1998, though Doumiougnon notably used a spatula instead of a brush. Incidentally, the term lyrical abstraction shares its etymology with the musician Orpheus from Greek mythology, a name borrowed by the poet Apollinaire in 1912. Thus, its musical and sensual background aligns with Kim Mi-Yon’s lyrical expressionism.​

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Pierre Cour
President, International André Malraux Association

2025.5.6