Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Minah Park. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Minah, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Are you happier as a creative? Do you sometimes think about what it would be like to just have a regular job? Can you talk to us about how you think through these emotions?

Overall, I’m definitely happier as an artist—but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. There are moments when I find myself wondering what it would be like to just have a regular job and make art as a hobby. That usually happens when I’m stuck in the in-between—when I’ve been working for months without knowing if the result will amount to anything.No guarantee of a good outcome, no clear reward—just effort and uncertainty. But even that ambiguity holds meaning for me; it’s part of the process of staying open—of listening, adjusting, and allowing the work to unfold in its own time.

But every time I imagine having a more stable job and making art on the side, I realize I’d probably end up feeling frustrated. Creative energy is limited. If I were spending most of it elsewhere, I doubt I’d have enough left to explore ideas in a meaningful way. So I put that thought away and return to the studio.

Living as an artist is hard, no question. But it comes with a kind of internal drive and meaning that goes beyond external validation. It’s not just about being seen or recognized—it’s about staying true to something larger than ego. That’s what keeps me going, even when the path isn’t clear.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

I’m an interdisciplinary visual artist working between South Korea and the United States. My practice includes installation, sculpture, printmaking, performance, photography, and video. I often explore the idea of the body as a container—something that holds memory, emotion, or longing. Recently, I’ve been particularly interested in digital devices and components, seeing them as metaphors for bodily extension. Through my work, I create fragile yet resilient forms that give shape to what is usually invisible or hard to express.

I found my way into art by paying close attention to the things that unsettled me—whether small irritations or lingering regrets. Instead of pushing those feelings aside, I treated them as entry points. Art became a way for me to examine unresolved thoughts and turn them into something material, something visible. Over time, this process turned into a method of working—one that combines emotional inquiry with formal exploration. Making art became not only a form of problem-solving, but also a way to connect with others who might be wrestling with similar questions.

What I hope sets my work apart is its quiet sensitivity—an attempt to give shape to emotions that are difficult to articulate. I often use familiar, everyday materials—like cables, chargers, or translucent plastic—not just for how they look, but for what they might carry. These objects act as vessels for memory, longing, and connection, reflecting how deeply entangled our emotional lives are with the tools we use every day. Rather than offering straightforward narratives, I try to create subtle moments of recognition—where viewers might feel seen, even in ways they can’t immediately name. I place a strong emphasis on material sensitivity, using texture, translucency, and fragility to evoke states of vulnerability and resilience. I want the work to linger—not necessarily with answers, but with a kind of emotional resonance.

I’m proud of what I’ve achieved so far and have maintained a steady and sincere practice. My work has been shown in both solo and group exhibitions, including Paris Koh Fine Arts, 205 Hudson Gallery, 25 East Gallery, and New Art City—a curated online platform dedicated to experimental and interdisciplinary art. Other venues include SeMA Storage (through an open call by the Seoul Museum of Art), Seoul Art Space Seogyo (supported by the Seoul Foundation for Arts and Culture), HoMA (Hongik Museum of Art), and Haenghwatang, a non-commercial platform that supports experimental practices in Seoul. I was also awarded a year-long printshop access grant from the Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts’ Robert Blackburn Printmaking Workshop in New York. This July, I’ll be participating in a group exhibition in New York City, with another currently in discussion. I’m also part of an international group show—My Universe: The Iconic Symbol of Me—at Dagao Art Zone in Beijing, which has been rescheduled for October. I’m especially excited about the opportunity to present work alongside renowned artists and curators I deeply admire. This fall, I’ll have an exhibition at the Korean Community Center Gallery in the U.S. Looking ahead to 2026, I’ll be presenting new work at Pilseungsa in Seoul, a space recognized for its contributions to Korea’s contemporary and experimental art scene.

Through it all, I want people to know that my work is driven by care and curiosity. It’s not about spectacle—it’s about giving form to what often goes unnoticed.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

Because I work in media beyond traditional painting or sculpture—such as installation and interdisciplinary art—I often encounter people who aren’t quite sure what that means. Even some of my closest friends, relatives I see during holidays, or curious strangers at exhibitions have asked me: “So what exactly do you do?”

I originally majored in painting as an undergraduate, but I found myself drawn to practices that allowed for more flexibility and conceptual range. I was interested in working across different media and exploring formats that could respond to contemporary life in more expansive ways. That led me to double-major in Media Arts, and eventually, I pursued graduate studies with a concentration in New Genres—a term some schools use to describe experimental, cross-disciplinary practices. This field emerged in the early 20th century and continues to evolve. One of its strengths is the ability to combine existing art forms or use emerging technologies to create entirely new experiences. It’s not limited to hanging work on a wall or placing objects on pedestals. Instead, it treats everything visible—and sometimes even invisible—as potential material for expression.

I often work with space itself, incorporating elements such as photography, video, sound, digital media, internet platforms, and virtual environments. When used thoughtfully, these tools can give rise to forms of art that are immersive, unfamiliar, and uniquely reflective of our time. Like many creative fields, this area is still being defined. But its openness makes it especially valuable in an age of rapid technological change. I believe this kind of experimental, interdisciplinary work is not only worth exploring—it’s essential for discovering new forms of expression that speak to the world we live in now.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?

For me, the most rewarding part is seeing an idea take shape—especially when it begins with a question that’s been quietly bothering me. Watching that question slowly transform into a physical or visual form feels meaningful. It’s not always about getting the perfect result. Sometimes the outcome looks different from what I imagined, but if it feels honest or holds some kind of clarity, that’s enough. Those moments remind me why I keep doing this work.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://minahpark.studio

Image Credits

Minah Park