From floating puzzle pieces to sculptures that look like stone but are made of paper, the Korean artist invites visitors to reconsider the boundaries between image, object and imagination.

A jigsaw puzzle is usually an exercise in bringing things together. Each piece has its place, and the satisfaction comes from seeing the fragments resolve into a complete picture. For South Korean artist Yoo Hyun Mi, however, the puzzle has long offered a way to explore what happens when the image remains incomplete, when individual pieces resist their expected shapes, and when the space between them becomes as meaningful as the picture itself. At STPI, her latest exhibition, The Blank Puzzle (The Image Yet to Come), brings together nearly three decades of work that examines the relationship between consciousness and the subconscious, the real and the imagined, and the familiar and the unknown. Presented at an unprecedented scale in Southeast Asia, the exhibition is both a culmination of Yoo’s long-running artistic enquiry and a testament to the possibilities of working with paper and print.

On view from 31 October to 12 December 2026, the exhibition follows three residencies at STPI between 2023 and 2025, during which Yoo collaborated with the institution’s workshop team to experiment with new forms, materials and techniques. The resulting works move fluidly between painting, sculpture and photography, often blurring the boundaries between these disciplines. Images become objects, objects take on the appearance of images, and materials reveal unexpected qualities that challenge our assumptions about what we are seeing.

The origins of The Blank Puzzle can be traced to an ordinary afternoon in 1997, when Yoo was assembling a jigsaw puzzle with her son. One of the pieces fell with its blank side facing upwards, prompting a reflection that would go on to shape much of her artistic practice. For Yoo, the pictured side of a puzzle piece represents consciousness, while its blank reverse suggests the subconscious. The two sides are inseparable, yet they reveal different aspects of our inner lives. Since then, she has returned to the puzzle piece in a variety of forms, using it to explore questions of identity, individuality and freedom, and to consider how we might challenge the boundaries that define us.

The puzzle pieces in this exhibition are rarely as straightforward as they first appear. Some retain their familiar shapes, while others become irregular, fragmented or almost unrecognisable. The image may remain visible, but the individual pieces refuse to conform to the structure we expect. This tension between the whole and its parts is central to Yoo’s work, inviting us to consider how much of our understanding depends on the frameworks we bring to what we see.

The exhibition’s title refers to another important concept in Yoo’s practice: blankness. In Korean aesthetics, blankness is not understood as an absence, but as a space that holds possibility. It can contain subtle tones, atmosphere, breath and time, allowing meaning to emerge without being fully prescribed. This understanding resonates with Dansaekhwa, the Korean monochrome painting movement, which places emphasis on materiality, repetition and the meditative act of making. Yoo’s works often carry a similar sense of quiet contemplation, but their apparent simplicity gives way to layers of texture, colour and meaning upon closer inspection.

Take Venus No. 4, for example. Without its title, the work’s ambiguous form offers few clues about its mythological subject. Yet once we know what it represents, we begin to project our own associations onto it. What does Venus look like? What does femininity mean? How much of what we see is already shaped by what we believe? The work suggests that perception is never entirely neutral, and that the meaning of an image is often as much a product of the viewer’s imagination as it is of the artist’s intention. Elsewhere, mirrors draw visitors into the artwork itself, reflecting their presence and blurring the boundaries between the work, the viewer and the surrounding space.

One of the exhibition’s most intriguing discoveries is a group of works from Yoo’s Sky series, created in her studio around 20 years ago. The photographs were taken at different moments in time, capturing the sky at dusk or after rain, but rather than presenting them as straightforward photographic images, Yoo printed them onto jigsaw puzzles and rearranged the pieces according to the feelings evoked by their colours. The resulting works are not composite photographs of the sky. Instead, they are fragmented images that retain something of the original atmosphere while moving beyond literal representation, transforming a familiar view into something more abstract and evocative.

The works had remained in storage for years, as Yoo had not found a suitable way to exhibit them. Their inclusion in this exhibition offers a rare glimpse into an earlier chapter of her practice, while revealing how closely her longstanding interests connect with her more recent experiments. The rearranged pieces suggest that an image need not remain fixed to its original appearance, and that memory, emotion and perception can all alter the way we understand what we see.

The Flying Carpet series takes the puzzle concept into more ambitious territory. Unlike traditional jigsaw pieces, the forms here are irregular and unique, with each work containing 1,960 pieces that were laser-cut at STPI in sections because of their considerable size. After the pieces were cut, Yoo hand-painted each one, repeatedly adjusting the colours until she achieved the precise shades she wanted. The pieces were then transported between her studio and STPI, where the workshop team reassembled them using numbered sections.

The finished works are striking in their scale and complexity. From a distance, the image appears cohesive, but up close, the individual pieces become impossible to ignore. It is this tension between the whole and its parts that makes the series so compelling: we are invited to look at the overarching image, yet our attention keeps returning to the irregular shapes that make it up. The effect is a visual reminder that individuality does not necessarily disappear within a larger structure. Each piece remains distinct, even as it contributes to a collective image.

A highlight of the exhibition is A Perfect Duet, a series presented within a specially constructed room inside the gallery. Rather than displaying the works individually, STPI has brought them together as a single installation, creating an immersive environment that encourages a more intimate encounter with Yoo’s practice. The room brings together two-dimensional and three-dimensional interpretations of the puzzle piece, with floating forms, unexpected colours and sculptural objects creating the impression of entering an imagined landscape.

Some works are silkscreen prints on handmade paper, while others are made from compressed paper pulp. The material itself becomes part of the illusion: paper pulp can resemble stone, while a seemingly flat image may reveal unexpected depth when viewed from the side. The effect is both playful and disorienting, as familiar materials take on unfamiliar appearances and encourage visitors to question what they are actually seeing. In this space, the puzzle piece becomes less a component of a larger image than a form with its own physical presence, capable of occupying the space between two and three dimensions.

Across the exhibition, Yoo demonstrates just how far paper can be pushed beyond its conventional uses. In some works, paper pulp is compressed into thick layers, then cut and sanded to create sculptural forms. The resulting surfaces can appear soft and pillowy, or dense and stone-like, while their weight and texture challenge the assumption that paper must be thin, fragile or flat. Other works use painted surfaces and reflections to create an interplay between the artwork and the surrounding space, allowing colour to spill onto the wall without the need for backlighting.

These experiments are more than technical exercises. They reflect the exhibition’s central interest in the relationship between image and object, and in the possibility that a single material can contain many different identities. Some works are designed to be rearranged, allowing the relationships between shapes and colours to shift depending on their positioning. The resulting compositions remain open-ended, echoing the idea of blankness as a space where new meanings can emerge.

The exhibition concludes with Around the Corner, a work made from plywood that resembles the running-man exit sign. The form suggests an exit portal, a passage leading somewhere beyond the gallery, yet its construction is equally fascinating. The STPI workshop team soaked the plywood in hot water, made cuts at the joints, and carefully bent the material into shape before securing it in a jig. The result is a single piece of wood transformed into an unexpected form, demonstrating once again how the possibilities of a material can extend far beyond its conventional use.

It is a fitting note on which to end the exhibition. Throughout The Blank Puzzle (The Image Yet to Come), Yoo challenges the assumptions we bring to images, objects and materials. A puzzle piece is no longer simply a puzzle piece; paper is no longer simply paper; and a mirror is no longer simply a reflective surface. Each becomes an invitation to look again, to consider what lies beneath the surface, what remains unseen, and what might still be possible. In Yoo’s world, the image is never quite complete, and perhaps that is precisely the point.

Featured Image: Yoo Hyun Mi, Red Flying Carpet No. 2, 2026, Acrylic paint on laser cut paper, 99.5 x 144.5 cm. © Yoo Hyun Mi / STPI. Image courtesy of STPI, Singapore.

Yoo Hyun Mi: The Blank Puzzle (The Image Yet to Come) runs from 29th October to 12th December 2026 at STPI. More information available here