Doki Kim’s Artistic Universe Is Anything but Cold

‘At one point, I wanted to become a Buddhist monk,’ Doki Kim told me when we finally found time to meet over a late-night sandwich during the bustling Frieze Seoul. Her solo show at Gallery Baton, as well as the fair, had brought her to town from Busan, where she has been based since returning to Korea from working in Japan about a decade ago. Kim mentioned the monk idea in passing – our conversation was not specifically about her practice – but the one-time aspiration offered a glimpse into the way that spirituality underpins her artistic practice.

 

Born in Busan in 1980, Kim has had a lifelong fascination with the forces that govern our universe; accordingly, scientific curiosity and philosophical themes are deeply embedded in her artistic practice. ‘I’ve always had a strong desire to understand the world,’ she explains, recounting her longstanding captivation with natural phenomena, particularly the transition between seasons and the mesmerizing qualities of fire. ‘I remember staring at the flame on a gas stove, endlessly pondering its nature,’ she recalls.

Upon graduating high school, Kim seriously considered devoting herself to Buddhism before ultimately choosing a different path, earning a Master’s in Intermedia Art from Tokyo University of the Arts in 2010. During her time in Japan she began to synthesize her scientific interests, particularly in thermodynamics and entropy, with her artistic practice. This blend of spiritual contemplation and scientific curiosity became a defining characteristic of her work.

 

Kim often employs heat as both a medium and a metaphor, exploring themes of energy transfer, transformation and the interconnectedness of all things through installations that incorporate LED displays, paraffin wax and industrial materials. ‘In thermodynamics, heat always flows from hot to cold, and this unidirectional flow is closely related to the concept of entropy,’ she explains. ‘It’s a principle that governs not just physical systems, but can be seen as a metaphor for life and the universe itself.’

One of her formative works, A Single Pillar (2006), installed in a shopping centre in Ibaraki Prefecture, used concrete pillars with embedded heaters to create an invisible column of warm air, inviting visitors to reflect on the unseen forces that shape our world. She explored similar themes with Form of memory (2010), exhibited at BankArt gallery in Yokohama, using heat-sensitive panels to create images which could either be felt, or seen with a heat-sensitive camera. The installation challenged viewers to consider the transient nature of information and the role of energy in shaping our perceptions and memories.

Kim continued to explore themes of temporality and narrative in her recent exhibition at Gallery Baton in Seoul, The Apple and The Moon. The centrepiece, Umbra (2024), consists of LED display modules forming a rectangular structure, with disassembled pixels scattered on the floor creating a large circle of light. Kim explains that the work is intended to represent the breakdown of conventional imagery, and is also related to her idea of time as something humans perceive subjectively, while it almost insignificant on a molecular level. The relationships between the many single LED modules and the larger image to which they contribute invite us to consider how individual moments weave into the broader fabric of time.

Another key work in the exhibition, Partial Solar Eclipse (2024), further explores low-resolution imagery and transitional states. Using irregularly installed LED panels on the walls, Kim allows viewers to peek into a universe where ordinary scenes from nature overlay with astronomical images, reflecting her longstanding interest in celestial phenomena and their relationship to our understanding of reality.

Kim’s artistic practice often involves non-traditional materials, exemplified in the use of LEDs, as well as in her work To Night, From Night (2024), in which two towering pillars of dark blue paraffin appear to cover fragile and neglected human figures, like wine bottles drowned in years of candle wax. ‘I’m drawn to paraffin,’ Kim explains. ‘Its ability to change states – from solid to liquid and back again – creates a sense of flux, of beings caught between states of existence.’

Throughout her career, Kim has consistently invited viewers to reconsider their relationship with the physical universe and their place within it, crafting spaces for contemplation that engage with profound questions of existence. ‘We spend much more time recognizing ourselves as social beings rather than biological ones,’ she notes. ‘I thought it was important to consciously take time to recall the ‘self’ as a living organism that we often forget. These thoughts ultimately lead to compassion for humanity.’