(한국어) Rootedness. To dig up one’s roots. To strike new ones and put them down.
Connections transmitting through a raw material web, a rhizomatic structure of memory. The act of unearthing. To hold common ground.
Jeewi Lee, born in 1987, makes human-nature relations as well as her personal roots graspable through the use of original materials and the tension of paradoxical dualities. In her solo exhibition Ground, in Karlsruhe, Meyer Riegger proudly presents three bodies of work that explore the artist’s creative and cultural foundations.
In her ongoing series “Past Tense” (2016-present), she works with hanji jangpan – a traditional, highly durable Korean paper impregnated with a specialised oil for floor coverings, commonly found in traditional houses (hanok). By cutting out the flooring of these former households and presenting them framed upon the walls, she shifts our attention downward: to the ground, the base and bare feet.
Historically intertwined with ondol – the traditional underfloor heating system – this flooring shaped a distinct Korean domestic culture that endured into the 20th century, though it is now progressively vanishing from modern society. Daily life played out mainly on the ground, without much furniture, allowing for a flexible use of space where people would eat, socialize and sleep in the very same room.
This Korean way of living is made visible by the artist as she treats the physical ground beneath like a living archive. She excavates the ghost-traces of the people and objects that previously passed through these spaces, unveiling the traces permanently captured within the hanji jangpan. By transgressing from mere architecture into a medium of cultural and historical memory, it becomes a canvas and historical witness at the same time. The artist reads the floor as a form of drawing and painting that speaks about time, site and memory. Thereby, she understands her practice as a reversed painting: instead of adding colour on an empty canvas, she removes segments from the ground and presents them framed on the wall.
Another vital element in Lee’s material repertoire is ott (옻), a raw lacquer extracted from Toxicodendron vernicifluum, a kind of lacquer tree native to East Asia. Considered one of the most resilient materials, it has historically been used to preserve and strengthen royal and spiritual ware. Therefore, it is a precious material, but one that was also integrated into daily, mundane life.
Lacquer is obtained by cutting wounds into the tree – a very tedious process, as it can only be harvested in small amounts, making ott an extremely valuable material. The artist highlights the inherent irony of this process: the liquid requires warm, humid air to dry and cure. As the resin slowly dries, it transforms into a sheer, robust coating. Yet, this protective shield is born from danger: raw lacquer is highly toxic, causing severe allergic reactions on contact with skin.
This intuitively contradictory duality of life and death, shielding and wounding is also central to Illumination of the Tears (2025). The artist reinterprets the meaning of the ott by highlighting the paradoxical relationship between lacquer tree and humans. Lee displays a floating forest of tree trunks with their incisions illuminated by ultramarine blue LED lights. Through this intervention, the focus is pulled tightly to the cuts and the reactive “tears” of the tree, but also to its inherent protective strength and its sacred, spiritual meanings, which remain firmly grounded in Korean shamanic tradition.
Vulnerability and resilience, harm and protection, the end and the beginning of a life cycle are all laid bare across another series of screen-print paintings that Lee created in parallel with the production process of the illuminated forest: Silent Flame_01/02 (2025) functions as a cross-sectional study of the tree’s inner layers in an abstract formal language. Here, the distinct blue line that stands in contrast to the overall reddish, dark brown tone of the image has wandered to the bottom of the surface, once more reminiscent of the notion of the floor, roots and lineage. It is a return to the basis.
In “Shades of Shadows” (2025), Jeewi Lee works with another of her signature materials: charcoal, born from the literal destruction of wood by fire. By pairing it with lacquer, the artist heightens the tension between decay and healing. The smooth, dark surface of the work functions much like a mirror, reflecting the ambient light emitted from its surroundings.
Through these distinct bodies of work, Jeewi Lee demonstrates that memory is not a linear string of events, but a living, rhizomatic web where past and present continually bleed into one another. Whether working with the palimpsest of stained floorboards, the toxic balm of the almost magical lacquer trees or the silent charcoal born from fire, the artist reveals that the physical materials of the natural world are the ultimate keepers of our ghosts. In unearthing the stains, secretions, fibers and ashes, Lee ultimately reconciles them, anchoring the viewer to a profound, universal truth: that all decay and all healing are fundamentally rooted in the exact same source.
Nari Sarmini