There are places within silence where the silence becomes even deeper.
They are spaces where thought dissolves, where time no longer moves as we imagine it, and where something — ancient and new at the same time — begins to reveal itself.
It is there, within this subtle breathing of the world, that my paintings are born.

I do not seek to depict what my eyes see, but what my being perceives when everything becomes still.
The canvas becomes a threshold: a fragile passage between the visible and what has always stood just beyond it.
Each color, each trace, is not merely an act of painting; it is an attempt to approach the faint, the unsayable, the essence hidden beyond form.

When I paint, I sometimes feel that it is not I who move toward the image, but the image that moves toward me.
As if a silent truth were seeking a path through me to become perceptible.
I am only its witness, humbly.
Painting then ceases to be an act of will and becomes an act of listening — a way of attuning myself to the invisible.

We all carry within us inner landscapes we do not fully know.
Places where memory intertwines with dreams, where light remembers shadow, where the present speaks with what once was.
If my works have a purpose, it may be to open, for an instant, these hidden spaces — so that each person may recognize in them a part of themselves, or a part of the world breathing within them.

This evening, seeing my paintings suspended in this gallery, I feel deeply that creation only truly exists when it encounters another’s gaze.
It is your presence that reveals their depth; it is your sensitivity that gives them a second breath.
Painting is never solitary — it is a bridge toward the other.

To present my work at Magna Gallery, here in Paris, a city where so many artistic and spiritual quests have crossed paths, is a profound emotion for me.
I hope that within the density of this space, my paintings will find in you an echo — however subtle — of what I have sought to reach: a fragment of the infinite, an inner light, a whisper of the real.

Thank you for being here this evening.
Thank you for opening your gaze to what may not be immediately visible.
And thank you for sharing this moment where art becomes a meeting place between the soul and the world.

 

Thank you very much.

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Paris, September 22 2026

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Lim Dong Hun