Living as an unknown artist part 3 - The irony of unknown
From Winter to Summer: Navigating Korea’s Unpredictable Seasonal Shifts
Seasonal Transition in Korea: From Cold Winter to Sudden Summer
Did I mention it? I'm a Korean living in Seoul, South Korea. Normally, Korea has four distinct seasons—spring, summer, fall, and winter. But these days, it feels like winter ends and summer begins immediately.
Longing for Spring: A Season That Seems to Vanish
Today awakened my longing for spring. I miss the scent of spring, pastel spring clothing, gentle breezes, early blossoms, and soft sunlight. I honestly don’t remember when I last experienced those things.
Until yesterday, I had the heater running—now, with summer suddenly here, I need to turn on the air conditioner.
Photo by Christine Bae
My neighborhood while having a cup of coffee
Weather Mood Swings: One Day Spring, the Next Day Summer
This week has offered a taste of real spring. On clear, mild days, my mood lifts, and I find myself thinking, "What a beautiful world!" I daydreamed about living in this kind of weather all year—but this morning it started drizzling again. Korea's weather has become wildly unpredictable. One day feels like winter, the next day screams summer. And spring rain? It's back again.
Photo by Christine Bae
My neighborhood while walking my dog
Reflections on Change: Commitment, Fear, and Expression
As the weather fluctuates, so does my emotional state—like boiling water in a storm. Not long ago, I shared my intention to post on Substack: odd‑numbered posts there, and even‑numbered posts on my website. But I changed my mind. I realize I feel more at ease posting on my own blog—so here I am today, writing this first.
Ah! they say resolutions only last three days—but what about a resolution that doesn't even last a day? I couldn’t help but wonder why my mind flipped again. Do you know what I think?
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Fear of commitment
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The paradox of wanting fame—but not wanting fame
When you break it down, both stem from the same root: wanting to achieve something, but being paralyzed when actually facing it.
Photo by Christine Bae
My neighborhood while walking my dog
Fear of Commitment: Exposing Yourself
This fear is like standing backstage before a performance. Once the curtain opens and you're exposed to an audience, fear strikes. You want to hide before the play even starts. Why? Because you feel powerless over your own emotions—you want to escape. It’s irony: you’ve longed for something deeply, and yet when it's within reach, fear makes you retreat.
Christine Bae substack page
In my case—I’m a beginner writer on Substack. No one’s watching me. So why the hesitation? Maybe it’s the comparison game: they’re American, flawless in English, no grammar mistakes. Meanwhile, I’m not American. My English isn’t perfect. I worry my writing will sound strange—intimidating.
The Paradox of Obscurity: Wanting Attention, Yet Comfort in Anonymity
I admit: I tend to enjoy being unknown, even though I say I don’t want anonymity. I’m a small fish among smaller fish—unlikely to become famous among professional journalists. And yet if I became famous, another part of me doesn’t want that either.
When I fell for the Korean indie band Jannabi, they were only known in a small circle. Their music was raw, unfiltered, full of potential. Now they’re famous. I was torn: I wanted them to succeed—and also feared their fame robbing their raw charm.
Korean band Jannabi
I have an allergic taste for things that are too popular, so I don't really like singers, songs, or products that are too popular. For example, bags with a big louisvuitton logo on them. They're too vested.
I think that if everyone has to agree on a single beauty, it's not the real thing. I think that ‘beautiful’ is a unique taste that someone's sensitive antennae have picked up on, and that it should have rarity.
The reason I came to like the singer was because the vocalist's personal taste was similar to mine, and the song was not from typical Korean pop music. It had the fresh scent of a minor band that had not yet succeeded and the energy of a group that was still growing.
Band Jannabi's performance at Grand Mint Festival 2019
For example, the singer's sunglasses were 99% the same design as my sunglasses, which I found wandering down a back alley on one of my trips to Barcelona.
They weren't a famous brand and they weren't expensive. They only cost USD$50, but they were very luxurious. They were the work of an emerging designer based in Barcelona, so they had a fresh, raw feel to them.
Photo by ©Christine Bae
Sunglasses I found in Barcelona Spain
I wanted these people to do well, but on the other hand, I also thought that they shouldn't become too famous. If they became too famous, they would become vested interests, and if they became vested interests, their unique, raw image would disappear.
What makes something attractive isn't perfection without any flaws, but also potential that is lacking but has the potential to grow.
But if I don't let them grow just to keep my taste, that would be a sin too. In order to continue making music, they need the support from their fans, and if they don't have money, they won't be able to make the next album.
It goes back to this: a thing is more attractive when it’s imperfect, full of potential. But denying that potential for fear of losing quality would be cruel. Support through growth is essential.
Saying “I wish only I knew them” is selfish.
If there's something good, it's right to let the world know about it, right? Because good things are meant to be shared.
Thanks to the world, they grew—and that’s good.
Embracing Imperfection: The Human Journey
I know that I should shut up and continue once I decided to do something.
I keep thinking: why do I need so many reasons instead of simply doing? Am I writing this long explanation just to excuse not posting on Substack? Despite it all, I find humility in my imperfection: breaking resolutions, making excuses, starting again.
I think it's because we're all human beings, we go back and forth between perfection and imperfection, inner conflict, veil VS unveil. We think we live to achieve something, but in reality, we are on a journey to confirm our human side.
By the end of such a journey, you will discover a changed ‘me’, from raw to mature, from a cave where you were hiding to the outside world, from isolation to connection.
We all fluctuate between certainty and doubt, concealment and exposure. Our journey is less about perfection and more about understanding our human side. Eventually, we'll emerge—evolved, mature—from hiding in darkness to living in connection.
It's like a band evolving from underground to headlining stages—bringing hidden music into the light.
It's as if the hidden songs that fans have discovered are being brought back to light after a time when computers were filled with songs that they couldn't even sing.
Closing Thoughts: Taking Small Steps Forward
I don’t know when the change happens. We just respond to today. It took me a whole week to finish this article. I feel like I’m juggling painting and writing—but bit by bit, I’m moving forward. The key is: I moved today.
Photo by © Christine Bae.
While I was writing, I was at a coffee shop
Author: Christine Bae
Who is Christine Bae?
I’ve been working as a full-time artist for seven years now.
As a professional painter with a passion for collecting great artwork, I’m excited to connect with people who share that same appreciation.
I don’t sell originals online, but I do offer art prints as a way to share my work more widely.
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[See My Art Prints]
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Originally published at Christinebae.com
This article was written by Christine Bae.
Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited. All copyrights belong to Christine Bae.
Copyright © Christine Bae.
