In a world inundated with artificial images - whether manipulated, staged or a Frankenstein’s monster of both - the concept of a truthful image has become elusive. A growing trend in contemporary painting reflects this shift, with artists turning to cinematic stills and found imagery to capture those fleeting, shivering moments that exist in the transition between one second and the next, perhaps in an attempt to capture a truer and more honest type of representation.

Amidst this landscape, another artistic movement has been bubbling forth – characterised by its chimerality. A loose cohort of female painters, several of whom work in London, are creating work which flows into and out of abstraction, with figural allusions appearing for those keen-eyed enough to search for them. For these artists, there is a refusal to be pigeonholed as one thing or another: a recognition that a more truthful version of representation might be a little less representational, that a more engaging abstraction might be a little more than abstract.

Among the emerging voices in this movement is Kyungseo Lee (b. 1995), a painter whose work engages in an elaborate pas de deux with the idea of representation. Her paintings are joyful dances of colour. Her palette ranges from acidic ‘brat’ green to deep, jam-like fuchsia; from the sunniest of marigold yellow to soft, fleshy pinks, and within these dancing brushstrokes and sweeping gestures, whispers of the human figure flit into and out of focus.

Only a few years ago, Lee’s work had a more intimate, introspective quality, where representation took centre stage as, in picture after picture, the artist examined moments of human connection. One of these paintings, Spoon, has hung on my wall for a little over two years. Two figures embrace amidst a swirling vortex of crimson and green, nearly swallowed by the surrounding paint. Something about the intimacy of this work arrested me from the moment I first saw it in Lee’s portfolio, but more than anything else, I was taken by Lee’s gestural paint application and eye for colour: the zips of acid green highlighting a thigh; flicks of vermillion delineating an arm; whispers of violet suggesting musculature.

As time passed, Lee leaned further into her ability as a colourist and freed her composition from such direct representation. Lee describes her process as  ‘spontaneity’, ‘mixing, overlapping, clashing, covering and finally converging’ each mark on the canvas. Her recent works are characterised by the same spirit of spontaneity, light, and energy. These works bring work to mind Elaine de Kooning’s dynamic abstract-but-not bullfight paintings from the 1950s, in which de Kooning described how “colours have become claustrophobic, they want to burst the boundaries, to expand, radiate, explode colour” (E. de Kooning, 1960). Like de Kooning, Lee's use of colour has become her primary language, the dominant force that guides the viewer’s experience.

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In Last Dance, for example, Lee pairs vibrant acidic yellow with cobalt blue and bold pink with leafy green, creating a dynamic interplay between hues. The canvas seems to pulse and move as the colours interact, drawing the eye in every direction. It’s only after experiencing the emotional rush of colour that the faint suggestion of the human figure becomes apparent. Lee’s work succeeds not just in presenting a literal image but in conveying the essence and feeling of her subjects, leaving behind a vivid, lasting impression.

Lee is an artist deeply engaged with dichotomies. One of the central touchstones for her practice is Jacques Derrida’s interpretation of the Greek word ‘pharmakon’, which means both remedy and poison. For Derrida, this duality illustrates the inherent contradictions present in all things. For Lee, this concept of duality resonates on a personal level, reflecting her experience as a Korean-born person in London, straddling the roles of both insider and outsider. It also speaks to the challenge female artists face when attempting to paint their own bodies, often unable to escape the influence of the internalised male gaze. Several of Lee’s works navigate this tension, exploring the delicate space between opposing forces.

Nocturne refers to James McNeill Whistler’s Nocturne in Black and Gold, which, for Lee, was a poignant reminder of the necessity of light & darkness coexisting, the need for one to define the other. In Fragrance, the artist’s depiction of the human body is infused by the experience of looking at fresh flowers: as the flower blooms, it is simultaneously turning toward death. This interplay of life and decay speaks to her ongoing exploration of duality.

Perhaps Lee’s style itself can be understood through the lens of the pharmakon. In her work, the abstract and the representational are inextricably linked- one cannot exist without the other.

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