Language
Clearing After Rain in Mt. Inwang
Jeong Seon
Meet Jeong Seon, the artist who changed Korean painting forever by doing something radical—he painted what he actually saw.
This misty mountain scene is Clearing After Rain on Mount Inwang. Feel that freshness? The air still damp, rocks glistening, mist slowly lifting. Jeong climbed this mountain near Seoul, sketched it after a storm, then painted this memory.
Before Jeong, Korean artists painted imaginary Chinese landscapes from art books. Beautiful, but not real. Jeong said, "Why paint someone else's mountains when ours are so magnificent?" He started Korea's first "true-view" landscape movement.
Look at his brushwork—bold but controlled, wet but precise. He doesn't paint every leaf or rock. Instead, he captures the feeling of being there: that moment when clouds part and reveal the mountain's face.
Jeong was a court artist, but his heart belonged to real places and ordinary people. He painted Korea's actual mountains, rivers, and villages with the same respect others gave to royal portraits.
Though he never painted Haenam, his spirit connects to this place. Both Jeong and Yun Du-seo shared the same revolutionary idea: paint truth, not fashion.
Standing between their works, we see two ways of seeing—Yun looking inward at human nature, Jeong looking outward at natural beauty. Both ask: What do you really see when you look at the world?
This misty mountain scene is Clearing After Rain on Mount Inwang. Feel that freshness? The air still damp, rocks glistening, mist slowly lifting. Jeong climbed this mountain near Seoul, sketched it after a storm, then painted this memory.
Before Jeong, Korean artists painted imaginary Chinese landscapes from art books. Beautiful, but not real. Jeong said, "Why paint someone else's mountains when ours are so magnificent?" He started Korea's first "true-view" landscape movement.
Look at his brushwork—bold but controlled, wet but precise. He doesn't paint every leaf or rock. Instead, he captures the feeling of being there: that moment when clouds part and reveal the mountain's face.
Jeong was a court artist, but his heart belonged to real places and ordinary people. He painted Korea's actual mountains, rivers, and villages with the same respect others gave to royal portraits.
Though he never painted Haenam, his spirit connects to this place. Both Jeong and Yun Du-seo shared the same revolutionary idea: paint truth, not fashion.
Standing between their works, we see two ways of seeing—Yun looking inward at human nature, Jeong looking outward at natural beauty. Both ask: What do you really see when you look at the world?