isolina minjeong

sculptor & muralist of mythological forms — showing at future fair

meet isolina

When we stopped by Isolina Minjeong's East Williamsburg studio, four ceramics students were filing out — each one hugging her goodbye. What began as a tender farewell turned into a warm welcome. Every surface in her studio was coated in an even patina of clay dust, including the would-be-white fur of her 13-year old dog, Charlie. Charlie slept through most of the interview.

Isolina creates large-scale ceramic figures that draw inspiration from Korean funerary sculpture, pre-Columbian stone carving, manga, and myth — shaped by both her Peruvian and Korean heritage. Her path to ceramics has been anything but linear: before landing a two-month, all-expenses-paid residency in Versailles with Galerie Lefebvre et Fils that concluded in a sold-out show, she was working at Home Depot for $11 an hour, sleeping in her car, and wondering whether art school had been a mistake.

Her work will be on view with Court Tree Collective at Future Fair next week (Booth F6).

Isolina and Charlie

How did you first get into ceramics?

The whole reason I started ceramics was because I had lost my grandparents, who had raised me, a few months apart in college, and I had no idea what to do. I was taking a ceramics class in art school at the time, so I started sculpting these big figures. At the time, I thought maybe the bigger they got, the closer to heaven they would be. I could somehow get closer to them.

I love my grandparents a lot and they're in everything that I do. They're the essence.

They never knew that I became an artist… It’s crazy, before moving to New York, I was working at Home Depot for $11 an hour, thinking that I fucked up going to art school. I couldn’t even afford to fire these things.

 

What inspires the forms — these animals, the guardians?

A lot of these works are inspired by funerary sculptures from Korea called myeonggi. These sculptures were made and adorned onto caskets to guide the soul of the dead through the afterlife and into heaven. They’ve been made from like the 3rd century all the way to the 18th century.

It’s not even a religious or spiritual thing — it’s the most symbiotic example of man and statue. That’s what I’m trying to do… they keep you company, in a way, and are there for you.

What's your process for building at this large scale?

I make them in parts — they are over 50 or 60 pounds. I had tried sculpting them in larger pieces but I tore my QL, the muscle that holds up your spine. I just recovered from two years of physical therapy.

 

Oh my god. While we’re on the topic of process, how do you prepare for making your sculptures?

Sometimes I’ll just do a three-second scribble. I stopped caring about making perfect drawings. In fact, the fast drawings end up being my favorite, especially when you are super loose about it and really trust your instincts. Like your brain knows where it’s going. You can release quickly and go right to the physical. 

In addition to sculpting, you’re a muralist, right?

Yeah. Three years ago I met this really cool guy who introduced me to it… and, like, we ended up falling in love and painting to spend more time together. 

When I was introduced to muralism, I was like, wow… it’s not even just images — it’s text as a design element. Murals — and I think statues — are the most ancient way to tell a story.

 

Where do the words in your murals come from?

On the street, at a bodega, in a song. I keep a book of phrases…

[Isolina flipped the notebook open and read us a few: "Some kind of hero,” “Old soul, dark wood,” “The scattering of oneness and all people.”]

All these sayings end up becoming either titles of works or mainly put in murals.

When you rip words apart to their most essential weight, they become something that can move you. Language is so cool in that way.

That’s why I love muralism so much. All the words you hear — in songs and conversations and in New York — you can kind of give as an offering to everyone.

Murals are for the people. You can just, like, stumble upon them — that’s the best part.

Where can we stumble upon your murals? 

In Chinatown, Bed-Stuy, Off Nostrand Ave, Downtown Brooklyn. The J Metro-Tech stops — we like covered I don’t know how many thousands of square feet.

 

How do you balance so many mediums?

I used to have such a big attitude about it, like, I only can do ceramics. But then I realized, when I moved to New York, you have to love everything and be very humble and have a lot of gratitude. I started looking at things with a new perspective.

It’s nice to constantly have all these things flow into each other. It’s like positive procrastination: drawings turn into sculptures, sculptures turn into murals, and then the murals turn into tattoos. One will influence a different one — and then it’s like a mad game.

Do you find ceramics social?

One of the loneliest things you can do is sculpt by yourself. You can kind of go crazy and maybe feel a little lost. I actually just moved into my own ceramics space and that's where it gets lonely… because you can get holed up in here.

But there's so many people, especially in New York, that are really hyped to help you. You just have to speak up.

It's usually in the middle of the night that I will just start messaging people like, “your work's awesome.” Then you become weird pen pals around the world.

 

How exciting that you just moved into your own space…. what a milestone.

I'm so proud of me. Now I can live on my own in my own apartment. I feel like the best, most independent, refreshing version of myself — as of last month.

I just want to live the most free life ever — and do it in a way that feels very happy and true.

Moments after we concluded the interview, Isolina began shuffling through her studio, finding one empty cigarette box after another (I counted four). She cracked open a window, pulled out a blowtorch, and lit the cigarette she finally managed to find. “Can you smoke in here?” I asked.

She replied, “It’s a free country.”

 

Listen to Isolina’s song of choice, Bassem Sabry by of Montreal. 

 

buy local @ future fair

Isolina’s works will be available for purchase at Future Fair with Court Tree Collective (Booth F6).

Future Fair returns to Chelsea Industrial, bringing together 68 local, national, and international galleries for another dynamic presentation — of both new and established voices — during New York’s spring art week (May 13-16). Unlike most fairs, they operate on an at-cost participation model for exhibitors, with 15% of profits reinvested as grants to participating galleries.

Future Fair is offering Art Pulse readers a 25% discount on tickets (applied automatically through this link).

video interview

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