Kim Sung Yoon: The Flower That Resists the New

In a contemporary art world where novelty reigns supreme, I wondered: what kind of artistic conviction does it take to paint still lifes in 2024? What kind of stubbornness—no, clarity—drives an artist to slow down and render beauty in a form so classical it almost feels subversive? “In contemporary art, flowers are often twisted, deformed, or ironic, but I believe that beautiful flowers deserve to be painted beautifully,” said Korean painter Kim Sung Yoon.

Kim is a rare breed: a contemporary still life painter who uses classical techniques to portray flowers. His work is a quiet rebellion against the spectacle-driven world of modern art. And yet, this rebellion has struck a chord. At last year’s Frieze Los Angeles, held over four days from February 29 at the Santa Monica Airport, Kim made headlines. Within two hours of the fair’s opening, all 20 of his floral still lifes were sold out. Three of the major pieces were snapped up in under two minutes. This was the first time in its 54-year history that Gallery Hyundai had given a solo booth to a young artist in his 30s, signaling a bold shift in taste.

From afar, his works resemble 17th-century Flemish still lifes, almost textbook studies in form and balance. But step closer, and you see something else. The blooms are not idealized—they droop, wilt, bruise. Some petals fall mid-air; others have been replaced by objects like balloons. The vases are even more striking: familiar food brand cans, reused glass jars, or reinterpretations of Korean ceramicist Ryu Ui-jung’s sculptural vessels. The message is subtle but powerful: beauty is not about perfection, but presence.

Collectors from across the U.S. took notice. “It’s a familiar subject, but a completely new reading,” said one. “The vases have an Eastern, modern charm that’s irresistible.”

Kim is not shy about his skepticism toward trends. “I don’t think we need to be obsessed with what’s new,” he said. “Look at how 90s music is being revived and loved again. The past is full of infinite possibilities.” His tone isn’t bitter—it's measured. Almost philosophical.

He began his Arrangement series around 2015. At the time, newly married and living in Seoul’s Chang-dong neighborhood, he often bought flowers for his wife from a nearby market. They didn’t have fancy vases, so she would place the stems in whatever containers were available—empty plastic bottles, jars, even old glass containers. In one account, Kim recalled initially feeling a little disappointed, but later realizing that these improvised arrangements had their own kind of unscripted beauty. “They weren’t trying to be art,” he said. “They just were.”

In a world that constantly pushes artists to shock, reinvent, and provoke, Kim’s work offers something radical in its restraint. He has described contemporary art as “a space of endless diversity.” That, he says, is precisely what draws him to it: “There’s room for everyone—even someone like me, who isn’t chasing after the next new thing.”

Perhaps, in this oversaturated age, still life is not a retreat. It's a return.

Kim Sung Yoon, Flowers in the Neo-White Porcelain Jar with Dragon and Clouds Design in Underglaze Cobalt Blue + Gems, 2024, oil on linen, 193.9 × 112.1 cm