True fucking story...

I met Kim Jong Il’s former propaganda artist in an abandoned mall. 

At the time, I was in my 20s, living in South Korea. 

I will spare you the nitty gritty dirty details... Needless to say, I was making most life decisions via Magic 8 Ball. [Outlook not good.]

One day, hungover from drinking too much Hite outside of a 7-Eleven, I read a story online about an artist who’d escaped from North Korea named Song Byeok. 

Now, like many sheltered Midwest gals that end up in South Korea, I was obsessed with North Korea. I read everything I could about it. 

In fact, every Saturday I even tutored a woman who’d defected from North Korea at a Dunkin’ Donuts. We’d sip burnt coffee as I tried to teach her English. She likely learned nothing from me. But I learned the world from her. 

So naturally, when I read about Song, I Instantly wanted to meet him. 

And like any good elderly millennial I found his manager’s contact info on the internet and cold emailed him. 

What got him to respond? 

Well, I was writing art reviews for a small literary publication at the time, and Song was about to have his first exhibition in the United States. He was looking for all the press he could get.

That's how, days later, I ended up in his studio in a giant empty mall.

There were no lights in the building at the time.

Just daylight streaming in from the large windows.

The mall was cold, and full of mainly empty stalls, like you might see in a flea market.

Song’s studio was tucked in one of these stalls, with his new life’s work covering every inch of space.

As I looked at the paintings hanging, and sifted through his prints, his translator told me Song’s life story. 

Song had grown up in North Korea and eventually became the propaganda artist for Kim Jong Il. For years, Song painted their “dear leader” as if he was a god and North Korea was heaven.

Which was fine because his whole life he had been taught to believe North Koreans were the happiest people on the planet… 

And he believed this too until…

His family started to starve to death during the famine.

(If you’ve never read about it, I highly recommend reading Nothing To Envy. It’s a book I still think about to this day. I will never look at sawdust the same again.)

I learned that Song and his father kept going to China in search of food for their family. On one of these trips, Song’s father drowned trying to cross the river to China.

When Song tried to save his father, he was caught by North Korean guards and imprisoned in a labor camp.

Now this story isn’t all depressing. I promise. 

Eventually, Song defected, running away to China, then South Korea, where he was met by blinding bright lights and overflowing electric rice cookers. 

Song created a life in South Korea, saw the world from a completely new view, and eventually began to paint again. 

But this time…

Instead of idolizing Kim Jong Il, he painted the truth, his new truth, with the world’s best medicine: a touch of humor. 

My favorite painting of his is called Take Your Clothes Off.

It was Kim Jong Il dressed as Marilyn Monroe.

(No offense meant to Marilyn, of course.) 

Song and I began to “talk shop.”

We talked a language I no longer speak fluently. We talked about acrylic paint, brush strokes, and composition. 

Then, a moment of silence fell between us all…

Song turned to me and said, “You know, I was taught to hate you.”

I looked at him confused.

Then he said, “Americans. I was taught to hate Americans.”

I smiled and said, “Well, I don’t claim them all.”

He laughed, gave me a hug, and thanked me for looking at his work. 

I still remember how I felt as I left the studio.

I walked back to the subway to go “home.” I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry my eyes out or if my brain was on fire. 

I remember thinking…

This is why art matters.

Art is not just fancy museums full of rich peoples’ art collections.

It’s not just about the Mona Lisa.

Art – at its core – is about connection.

It’s a way to share our most delicate thoughts and bring worlds together in the process. 

Now 15+ years later, I still think about Song and how meeting him changed my understanding of art forever.

More than anything that meeting taught me… 

Art can heal. 

Art can help us start again, even when we feel (or have truly) lost it all.