Lee Su-chang

Lee Su-chang (Korean: 이수창; Hanja: 李洙昌; 1929 — 2013) was a South Korean watercolor painter and professor.
Life.
His teacher, Mr. Son Il-Bong graduated from Tokyo University of Arts and was appointed as a professor at Gyeongju Art School, 
the first art school of post-liberation Korea. 
Under Son, Lee studied, and he never strayed from his teacher's theory. Son was the forefather of Korean figurative art, and like his teacher, 
Lee put importance on the essence of nature, rather than its exterior, choosing watercolors as the main medium of his paintings. 
Under Son's strict guidance, young Lee Su Chang entered the world of art, dreaming of a better tomorrow, along with Mr. Cho Hee-Soo, Mr. Park Jae-Ho, 
the late Professor Kim In-Soo, and with Mr. Park Gi-Tae, who continues to work as a member of Central Painters.
Professor Lee's artwork cannot be comprehended fully without the context of his career as a teacher, the confines of which he was bound for most of his adult life. 
He served as a teacher of art at Gyeongbook High School, Andong College of Instruction, Andong University of Education and Andong National University. 
Starting in 1954, he worked for 40 years to raise a new generation of artists – and he succeeded in doing so, for many of his students ply their trade all over the nation. Although his career as a teacher must be given its proper due, it is undeniable that the Professor, as he himself was willing to attest, was unable to give full attention to his personal artwork.
During his lifetime, Lee cultivated pure art in the formerly artistically barren fields of Andong. 
Among his incalculably valuable contributions was the artist group “Hyangmihoe” (founded by LEE Su Chang, Kim Im-Soo, Kwon Young-Ho, Yu Si-Won, Park Gi-Tae, Lee Sang-Gil, etc.) and his constant promotion of local art, while himself acted as a pioneer for the advancement of Andong's art scene.
Artistic style.
In one of his writings, Professor Lee Su Chang wrote the following about “first-class art”: “throughout human history, regardless of where and when, 
it should be remarked that every artwork renowned as a masterpiece possesses two common factors; 
the first being that the artist’s stance towards the artwork and its content should remain consistently diligent; 
the second being that the artist’s thoughts palpably infect its audience.
This idea seems to have become a sort of code which permeates the artistic world of Professor Lee. 
If there is one thing that the Professor has insisted on time and again throughout his whole life, 
it is “diligence” in the way in which artists approach their word, and the “meaningful response” expected when viewing the work. The aforementioned assertion is more of a “general outline” that broadly describes his works, 
and not exactly a “particular” that explores his oeuvres in detail.
Another emphasis readily visible in his artwork is the stressing of basic form while on the artist's path – 
an educational philosophy he no doubt obtained during his long tenure as a teacher.
It is due to the confines of his teaching career that Professor Lee Su Chang's paintings never seem to fall far from the artistic ideologies he himself taught. 
Examples of this include “diligence” and “response” as mentioned above, but also the creed that he often preached to his students: 
“a good drawing can be achieved only with a good heart.” From this, we can glean the idea that Lee's work is devoid of elaborate rhetoric or sublime skill. 
Rather, his work is the representation of his life philosophy emphasizing character and dignity, in conjunction with his art theory of “aged wine tastes better.” 
If one seeks to find something new, or a problem posed within his work, one would fail to understand the essence of Professor Lee. 
From the landscapes and bodies he takes as his motifs to the techniques he chose to express them, they are firm and solemn, much like long-tempered iron. 
His paintings can only be described as a journey that uses “unchanging techniques” for “unchanging themes.” 
That is to say, he always serves the spirit of nature, and he always chooses the optimal language in which to present it. 
Of course Professor Lee did not put all of his effort into painting landscapes which are, according to the old Chinese artist Tang Zhiqi, to “purify the mind.” 
The world was too chaotic and brutal for that. It is unfortunate that all of Lee's pre-1960 artwork can never be discussed, for they were all lost at war, 
but his work from the 1960s is a living relic of impoverished postwar Korea, stained with the dismal mood of the time.
All persons portrayed are pale-skinned with compressed lips with rigid, fatigue-ridden posters and no hint of repose. 
A shabby, faded building made of scrap wood, perhaps a school; in front of it, a barren, ancient tree stands, enduring. 
A painting Lee made while working at Gyeongbook High School shows women wandering a red-lit back alley of Daegu, peddlers squatting at their stalls, 
mulling over the sales of the say, and wives whose only relief from anxiety comes when they hang their laundry from the clotheslines. An innocent girl, 
knowing nothing of the outside world, deepens the drama, a mixture of poverty, grime and sorrowful tales. 
These paintings present both the theme of those troublesome years, as well as the expression of perseverance in spite of it all via the responsive method. 
Thick, strong lines cut through the outline; planes are boldly composed; and stylistic patterns flow through the picture. 
It was the age where a strong desire to live was necessary to hold on, and the artist develops and practices a responsive painting vocabulary, 
layering foundation for his own style. From this age derives Lee's traits of emphasizing the whole over details, avoiding ornate techniques, 
and preferring faded, damp colors over powdered chroma.
The 1970s saw more diverse motifs dispersed through Lee's paintings, from the streetviews of the 60s to nudes and landscape paintings. 
The bustling market seems almost too noisy, and from the rows of houses and walls escape personal stories. Fishing village wives fidget, waiting for the fishermen to return. Naked, plump women grab our attention.
There is a turnover in theme, from the representation of impoverished life to the portrayal of the beauty of working men's field, 
but the major part of Lee's work in 70s is the introduction of pastoral and domestic images. The scenes are framed with grazing cows on shallow hills and uneventful fishing villages. He visited every mountain and stream surrounding Andong. Iljik, Namhoo, Danchon, Jeomgok, Hahoe, Seohoo, Ongcheon, Jeojeon, Ganggoo, Chooksan, Guryongpo and 
many more places. He went day and night; not even inclement weather stood in his way. Reading the lay of the land and traveling far and wide, 
Lee was able to find the unique beauty of Andong. It may not have possessed the scenic beauty of other regions, 
but it was the plants that grow from the shallow topsoil and their persistence in living that Lee learned the virtues of humility and fidelity. 
Lee enjoyed painting the sceneries around Andong, all permeated with the footsteps of the ancient literary artists. If he wanted to draw a simple landscape, 
he would have focused on the shape of the mountains and streams, like the ancient, practical Korean topographical map Jiridogyeong. 
But, Lee saw the landscapes through the eyes of the literati who painted the oriental classics. Seeing how Andong is the origin of Korean Confucianism, 
it is likely that Lee held in mind the paintings of the classical Joseon scholars. This is why Lee's paintings should be viewed as a continuation of tradition. 
The old literary artists’ style portrayed the scenery without excess or adornments of any kind, using unrestrained vocabulary reminiscent of the literati's stoic lifestyle itself. If a holy man gave form to the Tao, and if it was up to the wise men to practice it on earth, then it fell to the artists to aesthetically enhance Tao through the physical form of nature.
To Lee, painting nature is not just describing its empty husk, but to step closer to its reality. It is to learn the spirit of nature. 
Harmonizing with nature and conveying the life force contained within – this is what he would have considered the utmost virtue. Though it may sound like an oxymoron, 
the paintings of Professor LEE Su Chang, Western-style painter, do not contain much in the way of Western style. Though aerial and linear perspectives are kept, 
their portions are very slight, and rays are often not painting according to the laws of shading. 
Even the basic frame of the Western-style painting, realism, seems to be off-kilter. One might wonder why that is. 
Perhaps he tried to master the occidental painting with oriental techniques, hoping to interpret our own landscapes with our own perspectives, and not someone else's. 
After arriving at that conclusion, it can be further deduced that what Lee valued was not “the truth of facts,” but “the truth of nature” – in other words, “True Scenery.” 
The factors which form the basis of his paintings – emphasizing the whole rather than details, while eschewing delicate lines – can all by understood from the pursuit of True Scenery.
The 1980s brought the winds of change to Lee's art. It began when he was a guest lecturer at the University of Tsukuba and at Tokyo University of Arts. 
During his stay in Japan, he came into contact with the 90-year old Japan Watercolor Society and one of its factions, Japan Watercolor Federation. 
This triggered a tectonic shift in Lee's artwork, thrusting him into a new phase.
Returning home to Korea, Lee's work became relatively “modern.” While in the past he colored the paper by putting pressure on the brush, he now patted the paper while lightly bouncing then brush. Other changes include richer colors, the switch from opaque to transparent watercolor, and much more detailed description. 
Once rejected outdoor daylight became more magnified, with yellow mountains, blue streams, green and peaceful country roads, white and bare rice paddy soils of early winter, 
and ships floating on the shining waves - all part of a peaceful scene which flew across the painting.
The outline of shapes and attention to detail became much more pronounced, in addition to finer brush techniques.
Still, the framework that propped up Lee's painting was still the spirit of observation. Of course, “observation” does not merely mean superficial activity, pleasing the eye. 
It is much more “infectious,” as Lee puts it, by which he meant reacting to and becoming one with nature on a deeper, spiritual level. 
From the point of view of realism, emphasizing description and faithful recreation, such actions are inexplicable. But to Lee, it seems like the revival of the ghost of Tao, resembling what Xu Youzhen of the Yuan Dynasty once said – “if one looks at a mountain, it feels like it is there and not there; and when one looks at the water, 
it feels like it is there and not there.” That is not a criticism of realism as much as a conclusion derived from the idea that the artist, having drawn the shape, 
invites the audience to imbibe of it, drawing a profound meaning from the form expressed in the painting.
Exhibitions.
Group.
Gwacheon, Korea