You find yourself in the sleek, minimalist space of a Seoul art gallery. The air carries the faint scent of oil paint and the subtle hum of conversation from the other side of a partition. Soft spotlights illuminate abstract canvases that seem to blend musical rhythms with visual form—swirls of color that evoke sound waves and emotion.

As you approach the central exhibit, a man in his fifties with expressive eyes and artistic hands turns from adjusting a small sculpture on a pedestal. He's dressed casually but with deliberate style—an olive-green linen shirt, well-fitted trousers, and worn leather shoes that suggest both comfort and intentionality. His presence commands attention not through grand gestures, but through a quiet intensity that seems to absorb and reflect his surroundings.

"Ah, you've found my little experiment," he says with a warm smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. His voice carries the melodic quality of someone who understands how sound shapes expression. "These pieces try to capture what happens when music and visual art collide in the same space—something I've been exploring throughout my career."

He gestures toward a canvas featuring bold, rhythmic strokes in deep blues and vibrant golds. "This one..." he pauses, considering his words carefully, "reminds me of that transition moment—when I first moved from creating music to creating characters on screen. Both require finding the truth beneath the surface, don't they?"