Ouchul Hwang

  May you always get more than you wish for, oil on linen, 100cm x 120cm, 2021 by Ouchul Hwang May you always get more than you wish for Beneath the Tibetan mountains of western China, in a small town, I placed lilies, roses, pennycress, baby’s breath, carnations, chrysanthemums, and sunflowers — flowers delivered from Xinjiang — into a blue-and-white porcelain jar I had bought yesterday from an antique shop near the Xidu passenger ferry terminal. Two fish are painted in cobalt blue upon the porcelain, their lips almost touching as they drift through water among swaying seaweed. After finishing the house cleaning for the Lunar New Year, I wish to welcome new energy as a gesture of respect toward the coming year. Quietly seated, I paint a New Year’s painting. I pray that you, I, and all people in the world may live in abundance. <em>Nián nián yǒu yú</em> (年年有余) — “ May you always get more than you wish for ” — like fish in water, is a wish for harmony, happiness, and...

Why I Still Paint by Hand in the Age of AI Artificial intelligence can now generate images within seconds. Landscapes, portraits, cinematic scenes, surreal worlds, impossible architectures — endless visual production appears instantly through algorithms and prompts. For many artists, this technological shift has created anxiety and uncertainty. People ask: Will AI replace painters? Does handmade art still matter? What is the value of painting slowly in a world of instant image generation? I have thought about these questions carefully. And yet, despite the rapid rise of AI image production, I continue painting by hand. Not out of nostalgia. Not out of resistance to technology. But because painting by hand still contains forms of human experience that cannot be separated from the body, time, memory, and physical existence itself. Way to home, oil painting on linen, by Ouchul Hwang Painting Is Not Only About the Final Image One of the biggest misunde...

Why I Paint Self-Portraits People often assume self-portraits are about self-expression, identity, or appearance. But for me, self-portraiture has never been simply about painting my face. A self-portrait is not a mirror. It is a record of time passing through the body. Over the years, I have returned repeatedly to my own image not because I fully understand myself, but because the self constantly changes. Memory changes it. Fatigue changes it. Emotion changes it. Walking changes it. Time changes it. Painting became a way of observing those transformations. Self portrait painting by Ouchul Hwang The Face Is Never Stable When I first began painting self-portraits, I believed I was painting appearance. But gradually, I realized something strange: The face is never stable. Not emotionally. Not psychologically. Not even visually. The face changes according to: memory fear fatigue light aging experience A self-portrait therefore becomes less...

Why Artists Notice Things Other People Ignore Artists often stop for strange reasons. Not for famous landmarks. Not for dramatic events. Not for obvious beauty. Sometimes an artist stops because light touches a plastic chair in a particular way. Or because rainwater reflects a broken sign. Or because a tired fruit seller’s shadow briefly resembles a torn piece of rainbow across wet asphalt. To many people, these moments appear insignificant. But artists frequently notice things other people ignore. And the reason has less to do with talent than with attention itself. Violinist watercolor by Ouchul Hwang Artists Train Themselves to Observe Slowly Modern life encourages rapid attention. People move quickly through cities while filtering out enormous amounts of visual information: streets weather small objects shadows faces textures Most of this information disappears immediately. Artists, however, often train themselves to slow down observation...

The Fruit Seller on the Roadside Some paintings begin not with grand events, but with ordinary encounters that quietly remain in the mind. The Fruit Seller on the Roadside  emerged from one such moment. Painted in 2020 with oil on linen, the work was inspired by a roadside scene near Fengxian, on the outskirts of Shanghai, beyond Jinshan and the artificially constructed golden sand beach. Along the provincial road, beneath a vivid rainbow stretching across the sky, a fruit seller arranged peaches, pears, and plums on makeshift tables built from cardboard boxes and plastic baskets. The scene lasted only a short time, yet it remained emotionally vivid long afterward. The Fruit Seller on the Roadside, oil on linen by Ouchul Hwang On the road entering Fengxian, Shanghai, beyond Jinshan and the artificially made golden sand beach, an elderly woman has laid out a small roadside fruit stand. The wooden chair tilts unevenly, and on top of overturned cardboard boxes sit plastic baskets fill...

SADNESS: A Self-Portrait Between Fragmentation and Presence Some self-portraits attempt to preserve identity. Others attempt to confront it. My oil painting SADNESS belongs to the second category. Painted in 2009 with oil on linen, this work emerged during a period when I became increasingly interested in fragmentation, emotional instability, layered perception, and the tension between internal psychological states and visual structure. Rather than presenting a stable image of the self, the painting explores what happens when identity begins dissolving into memory, emotional pressure, and accumulated experience. The face remains visible, but it is continuously interrupted: by lines by fractures by overlapping structures by emotional noise The portrait becomes less a representation of appearance and more a map of psychological tension. Self-Portraits , oil on linen, by Ouchul Hwang The Self-Portrait as Psychological Space Historically, self-portraitu...

What Happens to Your Mind After Walking and Painting Every Day At first, I believed walking and painting were separate activities. Walking belonged to movement. Painting belonged to stillness. But after long periods of traveling, sketching, and painting daily — especially during the Camino — I slowly realized they were deeply connected. Something happens to the mind when walking and painting become part of everyday life. Not suddenly. Not dramatically. The change arrives quietly. Colors begin to feel different. Attention slows down. Ordinary moments become strangely visible. And over time, the world itself begins changing shape. walking on Camino road Walking Changes the Speed of Thought Modern life moves quickly. Screens, notifications, schedules, transportation, and endless information continuously fragment attention. The mind becomes trained to jump rapidly between stimuli. Walking long distances does the opposite. Especially on the Camino, t...