Artist Interview: Hyo Chong Yoo (유효정)
Growing Up and Artistic Foundations
“Even in despair, there is beauty.”
Q: You were born in Hamgyeong Province, now part of North Korea. How did growing up amid the turbulence of that time influence you as a person and as an artist?
A: I was born in Hamheung, in what is now North Korea, the homeland of my family for generations. My early years were shaped by war and separation. When Japan surrendered in 1945, Korea regained its freedom after thirty-six years of colonization. My father passed away only months before that day of liberation. Those memories of loss and endurance stayed with me. They taught me that even within tragedy there is grace, and that beauty can emerge from the will to survive. That feeling of quiet strength has guided my painting ever since.
Q: Your father was both a scholar and a painter, deeply involved in Korea’s independence movement. How did his life and discipline influence your art?
A: My father was a man of conviction and compassion. He founded an agricultural school to educate poor farmers and secretly taught women to read Korean when it was forbidden. For that, he was imprisoned. At home, he practiced calligraphy and painted the Four Gracious Plants. I used to kneel beside him, grinding ink on the stone while he reminded me to correct my heart before moving the brush. From him I learned that every stroke matters, that each line must carry life. His sense of moral purpose, the belief that sincerity is the soul of art, became my foundation.
Becoming an Artist Abroad
“I came to America to care for my mother, and ended up discovering myself.”
Q: You eventually left Korea and came to the United States under very personal circumstances. How did that journey begin?
A: In 1969 I came to America after my mother collapsed while caring for my sister’s young children. The doctors gave her six months to live. I quit my teaching job in Seoul and arrived as quickly as possible. Miraculously, she recovered. Since I had a student visa, I decided to continue my studies. Rutgers University was my first stop but what I found there shocked me. Students splashed paint on walls and shouted in performative rebellion; it felt empty. I left in tears. Later I discovered the National Academy of Design in New York, where discipline and sincerity were alive. There I found what I had been searching for: truth expressed through skill and humility.
Q: What did those years at the Academy teach you?
A: They taught me that painting is not a performance – it is an act of devotion. The students there painted quietly, studying the harmony and order of nature. I learned patience, precision, and reverence. Realism is not imitation; it is the discovery of spirit within form. When you paint honestly, every brushstroke becomes a living thing. Nature itself is whole and generous; our task is to approach that wholeness with humility.
Conviction in Realism
“Realism is revelation, not repetition.”
Q: Many artists of your generation moved toward abstraction, yet you remained devoted to realism. Why?
A: Because realism is the most truthful language I know. It does not invent—it reveals. Through realism I can honor what exists, what breathes in front of me. Abstraction may express freedom, but realism gives me clarity. It is a dialogue with life, a search for harmony and moral order. When I paint what is real, I paint what I love.
Portraits of My Mother
“Every wrinkle carried a story of sacrifice.”
Q: Your portraits of your mother, Kim Kwan-Sum, are among your most moving works. How did you begin painting her?
A: At first it was practical—I needed a model, and she was always nearby. Sitting for long hours was hard for her. Sometimes she sighed, “Go ahead and paint; it will only be an old woman anyway.” Yet she stayed. Each sitting revealed her strength and patience. Widowed at thirty-two, she raised three children alone. Painting her became my way of honoring that love and endurance.
Q: What did you discover while making those portraits?
A: I came to see that painting her was like painting my own heart. Each line in her face held memory—grief, labor, tenderness. I wanted others to see the beauty in her perseverance, the quiet dignity of a mother’s life lived entirely for others. Through her I learned that love is silent, constant, and eternal. My art became a way to say thank you.
Korean Sensibilities
“Korean beauty is very honest, simple and soul searching”
Q: In your later works, you began to explore Korean motifs, such as in Shaman Dance and Affinity. What led you to weave these cultural elements into your art?
A: I am very much fascinated by the Korean sensibilities and highly refined aesthetics. Korean beauty is very honest, simple and soul searching. I have been painting in Western style and manner for much of my painting career. But more recently, I realized that I, as a Korean, would never be fully satisfied by painting in Western historical style. I hope to be able to capture the core beauty of Korean sensibility – “Han” and “jeong” in my paintings.
Closing Reflection
“My brush still follows the rhythm of their lives.”
Q: Looking back, what connects your childhood, your parents, and your art?
A: Everything I am as an artist comes from them—from my father’s discipline and my mother’s grace. Their lives are my true teachers. When I paint, I feel their presence guiding my hand. Art, to me, is remembrance—the act of keeping their truth alive.