At Hermès Liat Towers in Singapore, the windows look a little different this season. ‘Three Columns’, a new installation by South Korean artist Jimin Chae, features greek columns slicing through a whimsical landscape; deserts, lakes and fields nestled within sharply defined tiles; and pair of peep-toe Mary Janes stepping through a barely open door, while Pegasus hovers overhead and various Hermès objects traverse freely within the space.
Chae, who lives in Seoul, is known for work exploring the spatial dimensions of the everyday, inserting seemingly incongruous objects into natural landscapes to spark dissonance and, just as often, delight. Chae’s collaboration with Hermès, which fits seamlessly into the house’s long-standing dialogue with the artistic community, sees his practice jumping from the page into the real world. In line with its tradition of inviting artists to reimagine its visual universe, the brand offers Chae a different type of canvas alongside a storied history, layered visual language and distinct motifs to serve as inspiration.
During a presentation on how Hermès reinterprets its heritage in a contemporary context, Chae recalls: “What struck me most was how Robert Dumas found inspiration from an anchor chain he happened upon by the shore, which became the design motif for the Chaîne d’ancre. Remarkably, even after more than 80 years, this motif has undergone countless reinterpretations and variations, being recreated in diverse materials and forms.”
“This ability to recognise design value in something seemingly trivial, to create from it, and to keep that legacy alive through constant modern reinterpretation—that, to me, defines the identity of this brand,” he says. Here, the artist opens up about the evolution of his practice, the process of working with Hermès, and the message behind his arresting work.
You’ve said your paintings explore space, even though they’re two-dimensional. What does “space” mean to you in your work?
For me, the space in painting is literally a realm of imagination. More specifically, it is the process of giving a virtual sense of spatiality to a physically flat canvas surface. For many representational painters, this is almost an unspoken agreement—a given.
However, in constructing this imagined space, I focus more intently on the visually striking flatness that never fully disappears. I aim to create compositions where spatiality and flatness coexist—not to produce illusions or tricks, but to embrace the blending of these two qualities.
“For me, the space in painting is literally a realm of imagination. More specifically, it is the process of giving a virtual sense of spatiality to a physically flat canvas surface.”
You often bring together images that don’t usually belong together—like a door in the middle of nowhere. What draws you to these kinds of scenes?
In my own working notes, I often describe the subjects appearing on the canvas as a combination of “fragments” of images, reflecting the fact that there is no experiential relationship between them. I find the tension that arises when objects—each unlikely to coexist in a single scene—collide and interact to be particularly compelling. Although these combinations might not realistically exist, precisely because of that, they provoke viewers to actively seek connections and engage in a kind of struggle to make sense of the relationships. This effort draws them deeper into the work, increasing their immersion in the visual experience.
You live and work in Seoul. How does the city find its way into your imagination, even when your landscapes feel almost otherworldly?
I was born in the city, live in the city and create my work here. Especially in a bustling metropolis like Seoul, I am deeply accustomed to the fast-paced and chaotic rhythm of everyday life. Yet, at the same time, I am always ready to escape it. For instance, one of my regular hobbies is going camping. In this way, even though I live at the heart of a major city, I have always genuinely longed for nature. This yearning might not be entirely conscious, but I suspect it could be the reason why I frequently incorporate natural elements—mountains, fields, trees, animals—into my work. Returning to your question about how the city of Seoul find its way into my imagination, I would say that it is actually this desire to break away from familiarity that drives me to construct new worlds on the flat canvas surface.
What was it like working with Hermès on this project?
From the moment the project was proposed, through the first presentation meeting and all the way until the installation was completed, the Hermès Singapore team showed genuine respect toward me as an artist. They were truly curious about my artistic language and approach, engaging with the project not simply as a display but as a collaborative artistic endeavour. Honestly, how often does a collaboration with an artist from a completely different cultural background proceed so smoothly without any discord? I believe it was thanks to Hermès’s thoughtful consideration and genuine respect for the artist that this was possible.
Where does the balance between structure and looseness come from in your practice?
Artistic freedom takes many forms. When it comes to my own creative process, I feel that words like freedom or looseness don’t quite fit. From the stage of conceptualising a work—selecting subjects and using 3D programs to precisely draft compositions based on accurate vanishing points—to the painting process where every layer is carefully calculated, my work is filled with meticulous planning. For this reason, I see myself as someone who finds freedom and comfort within a perfectly constructed framework. Even scenes within my work that may appear relaxed or leisurely are, of course, the result of deliberate direction. So, to me, what might look like looseness is anything but loose.
There’s a dreamlike quality to ‘Three Columns’. What story were you trying to tell with this installation?
Ultimately, like all of my previous works, this piece was meant not to convey a specific narrative but to remain an open space filled with diverse meanings shaped by each viewer’s interpretation and experience. I hope that when people see ‘Three Columns’, they bring their own stories to mind, pause for a moment to reflect, or feel emotions. I don’t believe a clear, definitive answer from the artist is necessary in this process. Rather, I hope the work becomes a place where multiple interpretations and responses coexist, allowing each person to discover their own unique meaning within it.
