The spirits transfigured from blue tranquility by YoungEun Seo, a novelist Several bunches of dry grasses are shivering in the wind in the snow-covered field. Making such a comment will fail to carch the word of Lee Hyun's
paintings. Just as the sky and the sea overlap with each other far in the distance. the snow covered field folds itself with the sea. And the grasses transform themselves
into the sheer white spirits of snow which rise from the deep and riveting tranquility that fills the world. Suddenly, piles of light, as though to answer the call,
soar from the horizon. The tranquility is so deep and borromless the the sky and sea hold their breath - nobody knows for how long. In this world, time doesn't fly to vanish into the past. It accumulates itself up to become the depth of the tranquility. Midnight. The tranquility is the air within which the sky, the sea and the land take breath, and the air is so crystal-clear that is is piquant and biting. Trees
have not been standing at their current place all the way till the tranquility comes into being, Rather, they are growing at a slow pace following the tranquility.
They are psychics who deliver the heart of the land which misses the sky. Thus, they have taken off their heavy bark and are turning into vertical gaseous
bodies as light as air. The sea is the water incarnation of all things thar hace already transformed themselves into the spirit. The deep and blue water heaces its horizon to meet the
ship of light that is launched by the sky. The moon is bent and is sitting on its lovely knees facing the wather. It is a time for fairy legend when the world is
materializing love without any sound... Noon. The tranquility has turned into dazzling light. Yellow narcissi which have blossomed from the root of the light show their figure when one's eyes reach
the window. There is a table beside the window. It seems that a man has just stood up and left the place, leaving on the table the shining tranquility and
peacefulness of his mind. He is not going to where the world bustles. Obviously, he is headed for the very center of the volcano of light where all the various commotions of the world
calm down all at once. The tranquility, having swallowed up his body, is thowing even more glaring luster on the world. A lonely red glass on the table is the
last trace he has left behind in the world. The luster, like a group of dragonflies, is swarming all over over the air. Sunset. It is time for the light to burn itself into darkness. Snow is covering the world white as if it were a messenger who has come to proclaim the time.
Only for the short moment of time when the light and the dark crosses, the sky open its chest and shows its red heart. Streams of black blood from the heart are pouring down onto the ground. Sorrowful tranquility. Midnight again. THe dextrous brush of the painter keeps walking and walking. Passing the noise of cars that race the night streets on the other side of the wall. passing piles of bills, worldly happiness and sadness, helpless relationships,
and ephemeral hope and despair, she arrives at the end of the world the limit of existence. At last, the painter's brush dres the canvas dark, and dark. Though the dark appears in the shape of an island, it is crimoson essence of the painter's own soul. The island stares the painter all through the night. A beautiful and merrily play of the spirits. Dawn is breaking.
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