Jian Yoo: The Poetry of Mother-of-Pearl, Light and Invisible Emotions

Some materials carry more than their physical properties. They hold histories, traditions and the possibility of expressing what words cannot. For Korean artist Jian Yoo, mother-of-pearl is not simply a material inherited from a traditional craft: it is a medium through which to explore light, movement, emotions and the invisible connections that shape our lives.

Growing up around her father's mother-of-pearl workshop, Yoo developed an early familiarity with the material and the meticulous craftsmanship behind it. Today, she approaches mother-of-pearl with the sensibility of a painter, composing fragments of natural colour and iridescence into works that reveal different dimensions depending on light, space and the viewer's perspective.

Moving between painting, sculpture and object, her practice explores the relationship between individual elements and the whole, between stillness and movement, and between the passage of time and the permanence of a feeling.

For HORMÊ, Jian Yoo reflects on her artistic journey, the influence of her childhood, the possibilities of traditional materials and the quiet beauty of imperfection.

An interview with Jian Yoo

HORMÊ — Before speaking about your work, I would love to understand the person behind it. What experiences, places or encounters have shaped the way you see the world today?

The way I see the world has been shaped by many experiences, emotions and relationships over time, rather than by any single event or encounter.

We all go through different experiences, feel emotions, form relationships and change as time passes. Things that may not seem significant at the time can take on new meaning later. Gradually, these moments connect and shape both who we become and how we see the world.

I'm interested in these invisible connections between experiences, emotions and relationships, and in how they build on and influence one another over time. This way of seeing the world is also reflected in my work.

HORMÊ — Is there something from your childhood, your family or your cultural background that you feel has quietly found its way into your work?

My father had been running a mother-of-pearl workshop since before I was born, so the material was part of my life long before I began using it in my own work.

The workshop was a familiar part of my childhood. I grew up watching different pieces take shape and observing the care and precision of artisans whose skills had developed over many years. It all felt ordinary to me then, but looking back, I can see how those experiences shaped my understanding of materials and my respect for the skills involved.

HORMÊ — Your work seems to carry a strong sense of sensitivity and observation. Has this always been part of your personality, or is it something that your artistic practice has taught you to cultivate?

I think sensitivity has always been part of who I am. Working as an artist has made me pay closer attention to those feelings. I often ask myself why a particular moment stays with me and what it was that moved me.

As I explore those feelings more deeply, something that began as a vague impression gradually becomes clearer and starts to take shape through colour, form and the overall atmosphere of a work.

HORMÊ — What first drew you towards working with materials and objects? Was there a particular moment when you realised that making things could become a way of expressing yourself?

I loved drawing as a child and was always interested in expressing my thoughts and feelings visually. There wasn't one particular moment when I realised that making things could be a way to express myself. That interest simply grew over time and eventually became the practice I have today.

Drawing gradually led me to explore other materials and forms. I was especially interested in giving visible form to feelings and sensations that are difficult to explain in words. Developing mother-of-pearl, which had been familiar to me since childhood, into an artistic medium of my own was part of that process.

HORMÊ — You often work with materials that carry their own physical presence and history. How do you begin a work: with an idea, a material, a form, or perhaps a feeling?

My work usually begins with a feeling or impression that stays with me, or sometimes an image that comes to mind. From there, I gradually work out what I want to express, developing the form, colours and composition as the idea becomes clearer.

Mother-of-pearl is an important medium through which I bring those ideas into form. It has a long history in Korea, but I approach it much as a painter approaches paint.

The sensations I want to express cannot be seen all at once. Mother-of-pearl has a similar quality. It never reveals every aspect of itself from a single viewpoint. That quality allows me to express those sensations in layers. Through the colour and light of the material, and the way its fragments are composed, an initial feeling or image gradually becomes a finished work.

HORMÊ — How much of your creative process is about controlling the material, and how much is about allowing the material to guide you?

I plan the form, colours and overall composition of a work, choosing mother-of-pearl with its natural colours and iridescence in mind. I carefully consider how the fragments come together or spread apart to create different densities of colour and a sense of movement through light. As the work takes shape, I may adjust details in response to the colours and reflections that emerge.

At the same time, I can never fully predict how mother-of-pearl will respond to light. Even when a work is completed exactly as I intended, it can reveal unexpected colours and depth in a different setting. I love that the material allows a finished work to continue showing new aspects of itself.

HORMÊ — What does the notion of imperfection mean to you? Do you see it as something to correct, or as something that can give an object its character and humanity?

I don't see every imperfection as a flaw that needs to be corrected. Differences between individual elements and unexpected variations can sometimes bring character and a sense of life to a work.

Of course, I still pursue the level of refinement I have in mind, making adjustments wherever they are needed. But making every element identical or exactly as expected does not always produce the best result. What matters to me is how the individual qualities come together within the whole and what new forms of expression those differences can create.

HORMÊ — Your pieces often exist somewhere between sculpture, object and design. Do you consciously think about these categories, or do you prefer to work beyond them?

I think carefully about the different possibilities of painting, sculpture and objects. The same material can create very different experiences on a flat surface and across a three-dimensional form, especially in the way it catches the light.

I choose the form that best allows me to express what I have in mind. I'm aware of these categories, but I don't feel a work has to belong to just one of them. What matters is what I can express through that form.

HORMÊ — Your work invites viewers to experience it from different perspectives. What interests you about the relationship between your work and the viewer, and what do you hope they take away from that experience?

I want my work to reveal itself over time, rather than all at once. I care about the time someone spends with a work and what they discover by staying with it. A step closer, a step back or a change of position can alter its colours, depth and overall impression.

Someone can encounter the same piece several times and see something different each time. One person may be drawn to its colours and light, while another may follow the forms and sense of movement. I like that each viewer finds their own way of experiencing the work.

HORMÊ — Space also plays an important role in the way your work is experienced. How do you think about the dialogue between your pieces and the spaces they inhabit?

I think of space as part of how a work is experienced, not merely its background. The same piece can feel very different depending on the light, the space around it and where it is placed.

What interests me is that this works both ways. A space changes how we see a work, and the work can also change the atmosphere of the space. Each time a piece is placed somewhere new, it creates a different experience.

HORMÊ — Are there materials you have yet to work with that you feel particularly curious about?

I'm always curious about new materials, but using something new is not the goal in itself. What matters is what I can express through it.

Even after working with mother-of-pearl for years, I still see possibilities I haven't explored. I want to keep expanding what I can express with it, including by combining it with other materials and experimenting with new forms.

HORMÊ — Where do you find inspiration outside the world of art and design? Are there artists, craftspeople, architects, writers or simply everyday experiences that have profoundly influenced the way you see?

Nature is an important source of inspiration for me. I find beauty in the way landscapes and light change with the seasons, and in the constant transformation and cycles of nature.

But inspiration can also come from very ordinary moments: a scene I happen to notice, a meeting with someone or a feeling that stays with me afterwards. These experiences build up over time, and sometimes one of them becomes the starting point for a new work.

HORMÊ — Has your relationship with your own work changed as your practice has evolved?

My perspective on my work has remained largely the same, but the ideas I want to express have become deeper and clearer as I've continued working.

The feelings and interests that first drew me to art are still there. But with each new work, I think more carefully about what I want to express and how to bring it more fully into the piece. That process has opened up new ways of working and helped me discover possibilities I hadn't considered before.

HORMÊ — Do you think that making something by hand can still be a form of resistance in a world increasingly shaped by speed, technology and mass production?

I don't necessarily see making something by hand as a form of resistance to technology or mass production. New technologies offer possibilities of their own, and there are also things that can only be achieved through skills developed over many years.

My work relies on the precise skills of artisans, passed down and refined over generations. But technique is not the purpose of my work. It is a way of realising an artistic idea. I'm more interested in what those accumulated skills can make possible today than in preserving a traditional method for its own sake.

HORMÊ — Time seems to be present in your work in many different ways. What does time mean to you as an artist?

To me, time is not just something that passes. It is a force that allows things to accumulate and change.

Several layers of time come together in my work: the time it takes for mother-of-pearl to form in nature, the generations of knowledge and technique behind it, and the time someone spends looking at the finished piece.

These are very different layers of time, yet they all exist within a single work. That coexistence is meaningful to me.

HORMÊ — Looking at your work today, is there a piece that feels particularly important to you, perhaps because it marked a turning point in your practice?

The WAVE and Eternal Flow series are especially important to me because they opened up new ways of expressing what I had been exploring in my work.

I had already explored light, movement and vitality in three-dimensional works, including The Moon and Moonlight series (moon jar forms). In the WAVE and Eternal Flow series, I could let that movement unfold more freely across a flat surface, without being confined to the outline of a particular form. I could use the colour, light, arrangement and density of mother-of-pearl fragments to express movement and energy in new ways.

It was more than a change in format. It gave me greater freedom to express an inner world shaped by accumulated sensations, emotions and the passage of time.

HORMÊ — What does beauty mean to you? Is it something you consciously pursue, or something that emerges through the process?

I think each person has their own way of seeing and feeling the world. There is a special kind of beauty when those qualities come through in a way that feels truly their own.

For me, beauty is when the way I see and feel the world comes through fully in my work. I pursue it consciously. I think carefully about the colours, forms and light that will express my feelings and experiences in a way that is true to me.

HORMÊ — Do you think beauty can exist without perfection?

Yes. I think some things are beautiful precisely because they are imperfect. What does perfection really mean, and who gets to decide? Sometimes a difference or an unexpected detail is what makes something especially beautiful.

I still pursue the level of refinement I want in my work, but refinement and perfection are different things. What matters to me is not whether a work meets a fixed standard, but whether its own particular beauty comes through.

HORMÊ — If you could preserve only one thing in your practice for the next generation, what would you want it to be?

If I could leave one idea to the next generation through my work, it would be that there are new possibilities even in things we think we know.

Two people can look at the same thing and see something entirely different, then express it in their own ways. I hope my work can show that freedom and possibility.

HORMÊ — What would you like people to understand about your work that cannot necessarily be seen at first glance?

I hope people look beyond the immediate beauty of mother-of-pearl and notice the relationships between the elements that make up the work.

Each fragment has its own colour and light. Where it sits and what lies beside it changes the movement of the whole. I work with these differences and relationships to create a depth and vitality that no single fragment contains on its own.

That connects to the way I see the world. Just as we are shaped by our experiences, emotions and relationships with others, the distinct elements in my work come together to create something none of them could form alone.

HORMÊ — Finally, when you look at your practice today, what are you still searching for through your work?

I'm still exploring how to express invisible sensations and energy within a single, quiet form. I want to condense the vitality I felt in a particular moment into a still form, while allowing that feeling to remain alive for someone experiencing the work.

As I continue working, the world I want to express keeps expanding. I want to see how deeply I can explore that world, how fully I can bring it into form and how much of that sense of life a finished work can continue to convey.

Beyond the visible

In Jian Yoo's practice, mother-of-pearl becomes a language in its own right. Through its fragments, reflections and subtle variations, she explores the idea that the whole is always greater than the sum of its parts.

Her work reminds us that perception is never entirely fixed: light changes, perspectives shift, and what we thought we knew can reveal something unexpected. There is a quiet invitation to slow down, to look again and to remain open to what may emerge.

Perhaps this is where the enduring strength of her practice lies: in making the invisible perceptible, while leaving enough space for each of us to find our own meaning.

For HORMÊ, Jian Yoo's work offers a reflection on the relationships that shape both art and human experience — and on the possibilities that remain hidden within the things we think we already know.