The world in the picture, and my day

The world in the picture, and my day

​As the new semester begins, preparing drawing samples for students is always a time of both excitement and nervousness. This drawing I've prepared this time isn't simply the result of an assignment, but a record of my daily honing through drawing. Drawing isn't just about technique. It allows me to experience a different me each day, discovering a step forward from yesterday. There's no need to look around and compare myself to others. What matters is whether I'm a little further along today than I was yesterday.

When I fill my hands with water, the water reflects not only the curves of my palms, but also the sparkles and shadows of the world around me. Drawing is similar. Whether I hold a pencil or a brush, the lines and shading created by my fingertips contain another world reflected within me. It's not simply a reproduction of external objects; it's another world reflected back within me. Therefore, drawing is always a mirror reflecting myself, and at the same time, a lens through which I reinterpret the world.

​My visit to the Washington, D.C., Museum of Modern Art this summer resonated deeply with me. Above all, it was because I was able to encounter a wealth of works by Cézanne, one of my most beloved artists. The mere fact that his paintings were displayed on one floor, without the need to travel up and down, was a joy. I could stand before his works for a long time, feeling his exploration and sincerity. Cézanne's paintings weren't simply about depicting the forms of objects. He was asking fundamental questions about how he viewed the world through his objects. Looking at his paintings, I was reminded of the question, "What do I see in these objects?" Perhaps this is one of the reasons I find myself drawn to Cézanne's paintings whenever I'm feeling down. His work always gives me the strength to bounce back.

And when I stood before Monet's work, I experienced another emotion. Monet's paintings possess a power that seems to reflect all the light and color of the world. Looking at his brushstrokes, I'm immersed in the sensation of gazing at the clear water in my hands. They are transparent, free, and, above all, truthful. That's why, when I look at Monet's paintings, I think, "This is the true greatness of painting."

We often say, "This can never be expressed in a painting," when we see the beauty of nature. However, when I look at Monet's paintings, I feel as if even the beauty of nature cannot match the depth and power of his paintings. His paintings are so overwhelming that I cannot help but feel it. How wonderful it would be to be able to create such works. If I could achieve that level, I would truly be joining the ranks of a true master.

So, I think again: isn't painting ultimately a vessel for beauty? Not simply a decorative object, but a tool for discovering the true definition of beauty within ourselves and conveying it to others. Shouldn't an artist be more than a mere technician, but an interpreter and messenger who defines the beauty of the world and conveys it to the times and people?

In this way, painting is not a simple act; it is a daily process of drawing out and encountering the world within me. It is a way of life that confirms today's self, different from yesterday's, and takes a step forward. And dreaming of a day when, like Cezanne and Monet, I can deeply convey to others the world I have cultivated within myself, I pick up my pencil today as well and draw new lines on paper.

A reflection on the joy of daily drawing practice and the deeper meaning of art. Like water held in two hands, drawing reveals a world within ourselves. Inspired by Cézanne’s pursuit of essence and Monet’s luminous reflections, this essay explores art as a vessel of true beauty.

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