Today we’d like to introduce you to Yooyeon Nam

Hi Yooyeon, please kick things off for us with an introduction to yourself and your story.

Hi! I am glad to have an interview with you. My name is Yooyeon Nam, and I’m an oil painter based in New York City, originally from Seoul, South Korea. My journey as an artist began in my early 20s, about a decade ago. Even though I always enjoyed drawing using pen and watercolor and was naturally skilled at it, I never envisioned becoming a painter until the first most inspiring moment in my life at a music festival. There, I was deeply inspired by the rock band Nell, which sparked a desire to pursue a creative life. Nell’s music made me want to create and express what I feel, not merely reflecting my feelings to others’ artwork. I started teaching myself how to draw and paint but soon realized that to grow as an artist, I needed a more structured and professional education.
At the time, I was enrolled in business school, since I wanted to be a producer or fundraiser in film industry, but my passion for painting, by which I can become a real creator not a helper or a supporter, led me to make a life-changing decision: to study art. Since I wanted to focus on oil painting—a medium deeply rooted in Western art traditions—I decided to study abroad. My proficiency in English made the U.S. a natural choice, and I got accepted at Pratt Institute in New York City, one of the world’s art capitals. My time at Pratt helped me refine my skills and solidify my artistic vision. It was my best time in my life until now, since the only thing I needed to do was painting, not thinking about anything else.
Shortly after earning my BFA in Painting, I began working as a painting assistant while continuing to develop my own body of work. I developed my unique and original character that I had come up with during my senior year at Pratt, and it has become central to my practice. Through these characters, I explore the strange and disconnected aspects of human existence, particularly how people often feel isolated even within their communities. My work examines what it means to be an outsider—both in my own culture and in the culture I’ve chosen to live in.
Beyond cultural identity, my paintings delve into the inherent strangeness of life, which stems from the lack of innate meaning or predetermined purpose. To amplify this unsettling yet intriguing discomfort, I use a wide array of colors with mysterious and fantastical narratives. By depicting my characters as overly cute and adorable to suffer or be violent, I accentuate the sense of uncanniness, paradoxically intensifying the seriousness of my narratives.
I’ve actively participated in exhibitions and opportunities to share my work. My solo shows include “No Home in Wonderland” at A Space gallery, “Perfect Kidnapping” with Chashama, and the virtual showcase “Kidnapped” with Artists Living Room, all in NYC. I participated in numerous group exhibitions, including “KIDS ONLY” at A Space gallery in Brooklyn, “Oasis of Color” at Van Der Plas Gallery in Manhattan, and fairs, including “Art Expo New York” with AGI Fine Art and “Asian Students and Young Artists Art Festival” in Seoul.
In 2024, I attended artist residencies at SVA, ChaNorth, and Woodstock Byrdcliffe, which provided invaluable time to focus on new work and connect with fellow artists. Most recently, I received the O-1 visa, which allows me to stay in the U.S. and continue building my art career. I’m excited to see how my work evolves and to keep pushing the boundaries of my practice.

Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?

The life of a painter is rarely smooth, and my journey has been no exception. Painting itself is a constant challenge, since there is no definitive answer, and a different answer that I alone must discover is the answer. Beyond the artistic struggle, there has been a battle to find ways to sustain my creative practice while navigating the demands of survival and obligations unrelated to my passion and dreams.
Convincing myself—and my parents—that pursuing art was the right path significant hardship. My parents worried about my financial future, especially since a career in business seemed far more stable and secure. As a compromise, I decided to finish my business degree as a backup plan, knowing it could offer me a safety net if I ever struggled to make ends meet as an artist. I graduated from Yonsei University with a BBA in 2019, and despite the difficulty of balancing this with my creative aspirations, it turned out to be a wise choice. My business degree allowed me to secure a remote job during COVID, enabling me to support myself.
After earning my BFA from Pratt Institute, new challenges arose as a foreign artist in the U.S. To stay in the country, I needed a job for a year and a visa to remain longer. I landed a position as a painting assistant, but my first art job was far from what I had envisioned. The studio was disorganized and lacked proper management, and there was a controversy involving the artist, which led to layoffs—including mine. Losing that position put me in a state of panic, as it jeopardized my visa application, which was already in progress. It was one of the toughest obstacles I’ve faced recently, but thanks to the support and advice of friends, I was able to navigate through it and find a way forward.
The struggle to keep painting has always been—and likely will always be—a defining part of my journey. Even now, I face financial pressures, juggling the need to cover living expenses and buy art materials. Yet despite these ongoing challenges, I find the effort worthwhile. Painting is my passion, and no matter how difficult it gets, I’m grateful to keep pursuing it. Painting is the truest expression of myself. When I immerse myself in my work, everything else fades away, and I can feel who I am.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?

I don’t consider being a painter a job. To me, the two are fundamentally different—not only because making a living from selling art is difficult, but because a job typically involves meeting others’ needs, whereas being a painter is about pursuing my own vision and desires. If a painter markets and sells her work, I see her as a promoter of her creations. Currently, I dedicate most of my time to creating new paintings and seeking opportunities to share my work through exhibitions and applications.
My practice focuses on oil painting, where I’m recognized for my original characters, a cohesive yet diverse color palette—including my adept use of dark tones—and grotesque narratives. My work seeks to convey the strange, eerie, and often unsettling experience of living in a world where true understanding of others is impossible. I believe life itself is aimless, lacking any predetermined purpose, which leaves me feeling both isolated and liberated. This profound solitude is the only thing that is truly freeing, however, I still need connections with others not to die in isolation. My characters embody this eerie discomfort, portraying the experience of navigating life without any answers or role models. They serve as extensions of myself, self-portraits in a way, while also reflecting others. Through intense colors, dynamic compositions, and serious—often violent—narratives, they explore the inherent strangeness of existence.
The child-like, round-faced, nose-less characters in my work reflect both a personal sense of displacement and my cultural heritage. Their blank expressions and downward gazes echo Korean norms, where direct eye contact and overt emotional expression are often discouraged. This cultural nuance posed challenges for me in environments that value direct eye contact as a sign of confidence. I combine my personal sense of alienation with my longstanding admiration for Korean Buddha sculptures, which are known for their idealized body forms yet anatomical inaccuracies, aligning with my goal of making imagined and distorted figures seems believable to the viewers. Additionally, the mysterious quality of these statues—suggesting a moment just before or after enlightenment—deeply resonates with my artistic vision, especially in narratives that are open to interpretation.
What distinguishes my work is my commitment to imagination. I take pride in minimizing references, believing that painting’s true strength lies in bringing inner visions to life. This imaginative approach, combined with my consistent use of color—particularly my mastery of darker tones—defines my artistic voice and makes my work unique.
You can see my works in person soon at the group show ‘Desire: Body Without Organs’ at A Space Gallery in Brooklyn, New York, from December 15 to 28. I will look forward to meeting you there!

What sort of changes are you expecting over the next 5-10 years?

Over the next 5–10 years, I anticipate a significant increase in AI-generated imagery flooding the internet, which could challenge and discourage many image makers and creative workers, particularly in digital illustration and animation fields. The impact on these industries will likely be intense as automation continues to reshape creative workflows.
However, I don’t think fine art will fade away. Throughout history, fine art has proven its resilience, surviving and thriving through major technological shifts like photography and video. Its enduring strength lies in its analog nature—it is an art form that demands to be experienced in person and on-site. Unlike looking at digital images on google, experiencing art in person engages all five senses; observing how it really looks like in the frame on a wall, seeing how large the size is, which might be different than expected, hearing people talking about the work, and smelling the scent of oil paint, etc. A digital screen can never fully replicate the texture, scale, the sensory dimensions, or emotional presence of a physical artwork.
While some AI-generated paintings have fetched high prices, and artists may incorporate AI into their creative processes, the essence of fine art lies in its analog feature. The fact that a work is created by a person imbues it with a unique authenticity that cannot be manufactured.
As digital imagery continues to dominate online spaces, I believe there will be an equally strong reactional desire for tangible, real, and analog experiences. This aligns with trends like Newtro, where nostalgia for the authentic and physical has gained traction. While digital images will dominate online spaces, people will continue to seek out fine art for its irreplaceable, in-person experience. The popularity of art museums demonstrates this enduring desire—despite having access to images online, people still choose to visit museums to engage directly with physical works. Fine art will evolve, as it always has, but its essence as a non-digital, sensory experience will remain a vital counterbalance to the rise of digital imagery.

Pricing:

• Small paintings start at around $750 on Artsy

Contact Info:

• Website: https://yooyeonnam.modoo.at/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/yooyeon_nam/?hl=en