At first glance, the paintings presented by Jiôn Kiim in Grass Pillow seem to summon a vegetal, natural universe – though we can’t be fully certain. This principle of uncertainty, clinging to the shadow of our gaze, is one of the defining aspects of the body of work presented by Kiim.

Trailing a draft of air – or the possible echoes of the expression that gives the exhibition its title – Grass Pillow embodies within itself the principle of that which is unfixed, and thus embraces a paradox. We might think of something resting (the body, perchance), upon something else that takes on the shape of the one at rest (the grass). After that moment – a pause – the grass becomes something else again, assuming another form in the absence of the body. If we add to this equation the effects of the natural elements, above all the wind, we begin to perceive instability itself as the grass’s governing principle. Form, understood in this way, becomes a moment, leading us to reflect upon the relation between perception and the temporal quality inscribed in the paintings presented here.