
Art Center White Block presents a solo
exhibition 《Moonlight》 by
artist Myungjin Lee, through September 16.
Myungjin Lee (b. 1976) is an artist who
delicately reveals personal moments. Her work often combines private
experiences and imagined imagery within public or social spaces, exploring the
boundary between reality and fiction through painting, photography, and
installation.
《Moonlight》 quietly
illuminates personal narratives layered within anonymous images, like moonlight
casting a soft glow. The artist collects anonymous traces and clues left on
social media, then reconstructs moments by merging poses and expressions of
different individuals captured at the same location. Viewers are invited to
quietly confront the memories and emotions of others—and, beyond them, their
own sensations.

The exhibition unfolds through two main
bodies of work. One series translates the emotions embedded in anonymous
stories into painting, while the other draws from commemorative photographs
taken at real locations. Although they begin from different sources, both
construct a narrative by piecing together scattered fragments of memory.
The first series originates from
confessions posted on the social media platform Threads. Lee collects fragments
of anonymous memories and uses them as material for painting, creating
lingering images where blurred forms and other people's stories are entangled.

Myungjin Lee, Moonlight-Waterfalls, 2025, acrylic on linen, 194×70cm ©Art Center White Block
The other body of work is based on
commemorative photographs taken at specific locations. ‘The
Moonlight–Waterfalls’ (2025) series, for instance, draws from images taken at
Jeongbang Falls. Most of the paintings render individual figures and moments
drawn from separate photographs, revealing the layered temporality embedded in
a single place. One painting in the series superimposes multiple photographs,
showing how repeated acts of commemoration converge into a collective stratum
of memory.
《Moonlight》 brings
‘similar but not the same’ times back into view beneath its glow. Fragmented
emotions and anonymous narratives from digital platforms are reassembled in
Lee’s pictorial language. The boundaries between self and other, between public
space and private memory, begin to blur. Through the act of recording life, the
artist retrieves individual moments that quietly shine—and gently asks the
viewer, “Whose moonlight are we standing under now?”