C.A.V.E
2026
giclée print on Hahnemühle Baryta
150 × 150 cm

C.A.V.E. presents a dense image field against a chroma-key green ground. Fragmented pale bodies appear alongside enlarged eyes and a radiating sun. A spiral form and a chequered ground complete the composition.

The work draws on the Bangudae petroglyphs near Ulsan. These Bronze Age carvings remain visible today though their original purpose has never been conclusively established. The same source appears in compressed form in Lee's video work Cinema. Here the petroglyphs are not presented as archaeological record. They are treated as marks that persist without becoming fully legible.

The green ground is significant to the work's method. In film and digital production chroma-key green is designed to disappear during compositing. In this work it remains visible. The surface therefore keeps in view a technical process that is usually hidden from the finished image: a background isolated and prepared for replacement.

This concern with what an image includes and what it withholds runs through the wider body of work under the title Off-line IMAGE. Cinema compresses two visual sources including the Bangudae marks into a single pulse of light. Ostinato Interstice Rendering keeps open a gap between four languages that no single sentence closes. Opus 1 (Die Fuge der Kunst) points to the convention by which one image is read as universal within art history while another is read as regional. 48 Framed Images resists a single fixed identity for the body it depicts. C.A.V.E returns to the surface underlying all four works: the green field built for disappearance held here in a state of continued visibility.
Cinema
2026
AlMg3, DIP-LED, Computing device, audio equipments 
Size Variable
Music: <Portrait>, 2026 Composed and performed by Ilhoon Son.

A single pixel emits a changing field of light, flanked by two horn-shaped speakers. What remains is not picture but pulse, the moving image stripped of the resolution that contemporary visual culture trains us to expect.

The pixel holds material compressed past recognition: fragments of early cinema reduced until faces dissolve, set beside fragments drawn from the Bangudae petroglyphs near Ulsan, marks that have resisted stable interpretation for millennia. Separated by thousands of years, both sources arrive here as indistinguishable light. Neither survives as information. What remains is duration and interruption, an image asked not what it shows but what it requires of us before meaning is allowed to arrive.

Sound completes this reduction. Portrait is composed and performed by Il Hoon Son, his first work to enter a museum gallery after a practice built in the concert hall, drawn from a serial composition first performed by pianist Yeol Eum Son and rewritten here through his conversations with Lee on the void and the cave. Removed from the concert hall, the music no longer accompanies. It shares the room with light on equal terms until neither can be read without the other, and the visitor stands in their meeting point rather than before either alone.

This sits within Lee's wider concern, across Off-line Images, with how images now reach us before events can be understood, sorted and circulated until clarity is mistaken for truth. Shaped by his own passage between Seoul, Cape Town and Leipzig, Lee treats the image as a site where meaning is never given but always made, in this case requiring nothing less than the time it takes to remain with a flicker that will not resolve itself.

48 Framed Images
2026
Giclée prints
7.5 × 1.12m 

Forty-eight identical photographs hang in a rigid grid. Each shows the same headless, digitally altered figure against a chroma-key blue ground, one arm raised toward the edge of the frame. The hand appears to be doing something, but the image withholds enough information to say what.

Only the titles differ. The same photograph might be called Drawing, Composing, Deleting, Approving or Remembering. Nothing in the image changes. What changes is the frame placed around it, and how quickly that frame turns a picture into a claim.

Chroma-key blue marks the figure as provisional, a surface built to receive replacement content. The missing head prevents the body from settling into biography. What remains is a body prepared to be assigned a function rather than an identity, a condition Lee finds newly urgent in an image economy shaped by automated generation, where coherence is manufactured rather than verified.

The work does not argue that all readings are equally valid, only that certainty arrives too early. Repetition does not make the image more truthful. It exposes the machinery that decides, on each viewing, what a picture is allowed to mean.