Listen to me carefully, you bunch of snobs! If dark matter constitutes 85% of the universe according to astrophysicists, then Lee Bae (born in 1956) is undeniably its earthly high priest. For more than three decades, this Korean artist has been transforming charcoal into cosmos, with an alchemist’s patience and a zen watchmaker’s precision. In his studio near Cheongdo, his hometown, or in his Parisian refuge in the 19th arrondissement, he performs a transmutation that goes far beyond the simple physical transformation of matter: he captures time itself in the density of carbon.
Make no mistake. It’s no coincidence that this artist chose charcoal as his preferred medium. This encounter, which occurred in Paris in 1990 while he was looking for an economical material to replace expensive paint, turned into a revelation that continues to resonate today. Charcoal, in traditional Korean culture, is not just a simple fuel. It is the guardian of houses, placed under their foundations to protect them from humidity. It is the purifier of food, added to doenjang and ganjang to preserve their flavor. It is the protector of newborns, hung in front of doors to ward off evil spirits. Lee has managed to transform this humble, everyday material into a vehicle for artistic transcendence.
His working method is as much ritual as artistic technique. In his studio in Korea, he personally oversees the production of his charcoal in a traditional igloo-shaped kiln. The process is meticulously slow: two weeks of combustion, two weeks of cooling. This stretched temporality is not insignificant. It echoes philosopher Henri Bergson’s reflections on “pure duration”, that experience of time that escapes mathematical measurement to anchor itself in lived experience. Each block of charcoal produced by Lee is thus impregnated not only with carbon but also with condensed time.
The monumental installations of his series “Born of Fire” perfectly illustrate this fusion between matter and temporality. Carbonized trunks, bound together by black elastic bands, stand like contemporary totems. These assemblages irresistibly evoke Gaston Bachelard’s meditations on the “psychoanalysis of fire”. For the French philosopher, fire is the element that crystallizes the fundamental contradictions of existence: destruction and purification, death and rebirth. Lee pushes this paradox even further. His carbonized trunks are simultaneously dead and alive, inert and vibrating with potential energy. They embody what philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty called the “chiasm”, that crossing point where opposites meet without resolving.
This philosophical dimension of his work is also manifest in his pictorial works. Take his “Brushstroke” series, where charcoal strokes of abyssal depth dance on opaline white backgrounds. These paintings are not simple exercises in style or variations on monochrome. They are the fruit of an almost monastic daily practice. Lee rises at 4 AM, begins working at 6 AM sharp, following an immutable rhythm reminiscent of zen contemplative practices. Each day, he creates dozens of sketches before launching into the execution of a definitive work. This repetition is not mechanical but meditative, close to what philosopher Gilles Deleuze described as “difference in repetition”: each apparently identical gesture contains in reality an infinitesimal variation that makes it unique.
His technique of superimposing layers of acrylic and charcoal powder is particularly interesting. Lee first applies a mixture of pulverized charcoal and acrylic medium, then covers this first layer with a transparent medium. He repeats this process several times, creating a depth that seems to defy the laws of optics. Black is never truly black in his works, but rather a constellation of nuances that simultaneously absorb and reflect light. This approach echoes Edmund Husserl’s phenomenological theories on the perception of time and space. Each layer of paint becomes a visible temporal stratum, a sedimentation of experience that materializes before our eyes.
The influence of traditional Korean calligraphy is also palpable in his work, though he largely transcends it. In the sumi-e tradition, black ink is not used to represent reality but to capture its essence. Lee applies this principle to charcoal, but pushes it in a resolutely contemporary direction. His gestures do not seek to reproduce recognizable forms but to trace the contours of a mental space, an interior territory where time solidifies into matter.
This exploration of space-time through charcoal takes on a particularly striking dimension in his recent installations. In these works, charcoal blocks are arranged to create immersive environments that transform galleries into spaces of contemplation. The viewer finds themselves literally surrounded by crystallized time, plunged into a universe where dark matter becomes a metaphor for the invisible that structures our reality.
Lee Bae’s relationship with time is not limited to his artistic practice. It extends to his way of inhabiting geographical and cultural space. Sharing his life between Paris, Seoul, and Cheongdo, he embodies a form of contemporary nomadism that transcends traditional oppositions between East and West. His artistic practice thus becomes a bridge between different philosophical and aesthetic traditions. Charcoal, a universal material if ever there was one, becomes in his hands a vehicle for intercultural dialogue.
This intercultural dimension is particularly manifest in his approach to the notion of emptiness, so important in Oriental philosophy. In Taoist thought, emptiness is not an absence but an active presence, a space of potentiality. Lee translates this conception in his work through the subtle interplay between black surfaces and untreated spaces in his works. White is never truly white, just as black is never truly black. These two poles are in constant interaction, creating a field of tensions that activates the pictorial space.
The recent evolution of his work deserves particular attention. After decades of exclusive exploration of black, Lee begins to subtly introduce color into his works. This is not a radical change but rather an organic evolution, as if the depths of black he has probed for so long were beginning to reveal their hidden chromatic spectrum. This opening toward color recalls philosopher Georges Didi-Huberman’s observations on the survival of images: nothing truly disappears, everything transforms and resurfaces in new forms.
Lee’s practice invites us to fundamentally rethink our relationship with time and matter. In a world dominated by instantaneity and virtuality, his work offers an experience of duration that is anchored in the tangible. Charcoal, a primitive material par excellence, becomes in his hands a medium of extraordinary conceptual sophistication. Perhaps therein lies the greatest strength of his work: in its ability to transform such a humble material into a vehicle for metaphysical reflection.
This transformation is not limited to the visual aspect. Lee engages all our senses in the experience of his works. The subtle odor of charcoal, the texture of worked surfaces, the play of shadows and reflections, all contribute to creating an immersive experience that goes far beyond the traditional framework of artistic contemplation. His installations become spaces of active meditation where time seems to suspend itself.
The ecological dimension of his work cannot be ignored, though it is never didactic. At a time when environmental questions become omnipresent, his practice reminds us of our fundamental relationship with natural materials. Charcoal, in his work, is not a simple material to be exploited but a partner with which to dialogue. This approach echoes contemporary reflections on the Anthropocene and our responsibility toward matter.
Lee’s studio in Cheongdo thus becomes more than a simple place of artistic production. It is a laboratory where contemporary alchemy takes place, where matter and time merge to create works that defy our usual categories. The traditional kiln where he produces his charcoal is not just a technical tool, it is a crucible where a new conception of art is forged.
While the art world is often dominated by spectacular effect and innovation at any cost, Lee reminds us that true originality can reside in the patient deepening of a relationship with a material. His work is a lesson in perseverance and humility, a demonstration that repetition is not necessarily repetitive but can be the path to constant reinvention.
Ultimately, Lee Bae’s work confronts us with a fundamental question: how do we inhabit time in the era of generalized acceleration? His answer, embodied in charcoal, is an invitation to slowness and contemplation. In his hands, the humblest of materials becomes a mirror where our deepest questionings about the nature of time, space, and our place in the universe are reflected. It is an art that does not seek to dazzle but to illuminate, not to entertain but to transform our perception of the world. In this, Lee Bae establishes himself as one of the most essential artists of our time, a master who has managed to make charcoal not an end in itself, but a means of exploring the deepest mysteries of existence.
