Son Jongkee is a painter based in Seoul, South Korea. Through voluntary silence and solitude, he explores his inner self and continues his artistic pursuits by contemplating "how to live" and "who I am.” Through his art, he hopes to encourage the viewer to find solace in the tranquility that can be felt within the silence depicted in the painting. You can follow him on Instagram: @son_art
Son’s paintings appear on the cover and accompany “A Defense Against Loneliness” by Hannah Provost in SJ 324.
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Q&A with Son Jungkee, Cover Artist for Summit Journal 324
Summit Journal: You’ve stated, "My paintings serve as a gateway to inner space,” and that seems to be an invitation. How do you hope an observer engages with your pieces?
Son Jungkee: Many people today live busy lives and rarely have time to focus entirely on themselves. Through my exhibitions and paintings, I hope to offer viewers a space where they can spend time fully with themselves — where they can open the door to their inner world and step inside.
I also hope that they carry that quiet moment back into their everyday lives, and continue to experience the fullness of voluntary silence and solitude in their own personal spaces.
In those moments, I don’t want my paintings to be seen merely as decorative objects. Rather, I hope they become companions in solitude — quiet partners that share stillness with the viewer and support their desire for reflection.
SJ: You were born in Seoul in 1991, a very dynamic period for South Korea. This included rapid economic development and urbanization, a historic financial crisis, and globalization. Did you perceive your world as rapidly changing, growing up?
SJ: That’s right, I was born in Seoul, and I’ve lived in the same neighborhood ever since. As you mentioned, South Korea has gone through countless changes and crises over the years, and it has continued to grow at an incredible pace. In particular, my generation experienced the transition from an analog world to a fully digital one, so I’ve naturally grown up feeling how quickly society can evolve.
When I was young, my neighborhood had no subway access, and most buildings were only four or five stories tall. Today, it’s filled with apartment complexes that easily rise twenty or thirty stories. Even after a short trip, I sometimes return to find new buildings that weren’t there before — moments that make the speed of change feel very real.
Not long ago, many foreigners didn’t even know where Korea was located. Now, Seoul is full of people who travel here to experience K-culture. When I see that, I’m reminded of how rapidly Korea has globalized — and just how dramatic the pace of change has been.
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SJ: Is it a stretch to say your work is a reaction to the schismatic shifts South Korea experienced?
SJ: Yes, I do think it has influenced my work to some extent.
There’s even a phrase often used to describe Korean culture — “hurry, hurry” — which reflects the tendency to pursue fast results and high performance, especially in work and achievement. In many ways, that mindset became a driving force behind Korea’s development into an advanced country.
But there have also been side effects accumulating beneath that growth. Excessive competition creates fatigue, personal lives are often postponed in the pursuit of achievement, and the constant fear of falling behind slowly wears people down. Over time, this has produced a deeper longing for rest and stillness. In that sense, my work is not separate from this social atmosphere — and I’ve found that many viewers strongly relate to that aspect.
Ultimately, it feels as though the fatigue that has been suppressed for so long has begun to surface — emerging as a collective desire for voluntary silence and solitude.
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SJ: What’s your perception of time and change? For me, in many ways, it feels like time disappears very quickly each day because I’m inundated with information, entertainment, and other things that (seem to) seek my attention.
SJ: I feel the same way — these days, everything seems to pass by so quickly. The content we consume has become shorter and faster, and it often feels like we’re not even allowed to sit still. Of course, these changes make life more convenient and, in some ways, richer. But at the same time, I think we unconsciously let many moments slip away without truly being present.
Even when we’re brushing our teeth, eating, driving, or simply walking somewhere, we’re often not aware of the moment itself. Instead, we’re absorbed by the endless stream of content. Our eyes and minds never really get to rest, and that’s why each day can feel like it disappears without us noticing.
Because of this, I try to put my phone down during ordinary daily moments — like when I’m showering or moving from one place to another — and become fully aware of what I’m doing. In a small way, I see it as a practice of reclaiming time and returning to the present.
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SJ: There are a few central ideas that guide your pieces, but one prominent one centers around solitude. I have a sense that you may have your own particular definition of loneliness and solitude, because you sometimes refer to these through the dimension of time. How do you think about, and relate to, these states of being?
SJ: I see loneliness and solitude as two different states. Loneliness is a sense of lack that arises in relation to others, while solitude is voluntary — it is a state that does not require anyone else. Many people tend to associate solitude with isolation, but the solitude I’m interested in is closer to a state of inner stillness.
To describe it more clearly, it involves not carrying yesterday into today, not clinging to what is passing, and having the flexibility to let both good and bad experiences flow through you. This kind of quiet mind allows us to step back from life and observe it with more ease. It creates space for reflection — on who we are, and on the life we are living.
And if we practice returning to that stillness, I believe we can maintain a sense of voluntary solitude anywhere — even on a noisy bus or in the middle of a crowd. In that sense, the vast nature in my paintings can be read as a symbol of the vastness of life itself, and the solitary figure within it represents a single person — “me” — carrying inner solitude while moving through the world.
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SJ: Certainly, some of the guiding principles of your art coincide with values that climbers care about: direct engagement with reality, self-understanding through practice and effort, doing more with less. Do you have a particular hobby or sport that helped you cultivate the ideas that influence your artwork?
SJ: I wouldn’t call it a sport, but I really enjoy walking as part of my everyday life. If a distance is walkable, I usually choose to walk, and when I go on a walk, it’s often around 10 kilometers. Some days I walk through the city, and other days I take forest paths.
While walking, I try to step away from external stimulation and focus on the sensations of my body in motion — my breathing, the wind, and the rhythm of my steps. I also reflect on the thoughts that arise as I walk, and I try to make that time fully my own.
SJ: How did trees and mountains become a core motif?
SJ: First, I’ve always loved winter forests. I’m drawn to the season’s unique atmosphere — something both warm and quietly lonely at the same time — and I especially love the complete stillness that a winter forest holds. That’s why I enjoy walking in winter forests so much. In those moments, it feels as if only the sound of the wind and my own breathing exist.
Second, in a symbolic sense, forests and trees can represent the life we live — or the people we live among. We are often in the middle of life without fully knowing where we began, where we are now, or where we are ultimately headed. And yet, we continue walking forward, each carrying our own solitude, moving through a vast life that feels as immense as nature itself—sometimes passing through trees that feel dense like a crowd, and other times through spaces where they are sparse.
What I want to show through my work is simply life as it is, as we continue to walk through it.
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SJ: Along those lines, a solitary figure walks towards a mountain… what interested you in working with Summit Journal on the cover?
SJ: I think it’s a feeling that anyone who loves mountains has experienced at least once. When you reach the summit alone and a vast landscape unfolds endlessly before your eyes, you feel a sense of fullness that is hard to put into words. In that moment, you touch something infinite, and a natural sense of awe rises within you.
Because I’ve experienced that myself, I often feel that mountains resemble the way we live our lives. In life, we climb upward at times, push through obstacles, arrive at certain peaks, and then descend again. But a mountain is made of all of those paths — the ascent and the descent are both part of the journey. In the same way, I believe our lives also include all of those movements.
So for this project, I worked with joy, recalling that sense of fullness I once felt in nature, and trying to bring that feeling into the painting.
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SJ: Lastly, what’s your own answer to a question you like to ask: "How should a human being, as a being with a finite life, live?"
SJ: This question is deeply connected to the way I try to live my life. I believe it’s important to look at life as it is, without quickly separating everything into what is “good” or “bad,” and instead to live the present moment as fully as possible. To let go of what needs to be released without regret, to stay centered in the present, and to live with kindness — toward the world, toward others, and toward myself. That is the attitude I strive for, and in many ways, my only goal.
When the mountaineer George Mallory was asked why he wanted to climb a mountain, he famously answered, “Because it’s there.” In the same way, I believe that simply living the life we’ve been given — sincerely and wholeheartedly — is already meaningful enough.
Son has produced a limited edition of 15 giclée fine-art prints, 26x18", each individually signed and numbered.
There will not be a second printing, and this print will not be offered in other formats.
“For this project, I worked with joy, recalling that sense of fullness I once felt in nature, and trying to bring that feeling into the painting,” says Son Jongkee, on creating the cover art for SJ 324.
Buy a Limited Edition Print of “A Lone Ascent”
Feature Image: The artist, Son Jungkee, in his studio. Photo courtesy of Son.