Samantha Yun Wall finds herself standing at the crossroads of identity, history, and artistry. The past year has been a whirlwind for the Black Korean artist, filled with both profound artistic and personal growth and unrelenting challenges. Whether exhibiting her work in museums across the United States, reconnecting with her mother tongue, or participating in the Multidisciplinary Multiracial Research Conference at Rutgers University, Wall’s creative journey has been as dynamic as it has been transformative.
Yet, as much as the artist has celebrated professional milestones, this has also been one of her most financially difficult years, a sobering reality she shares with a characteristic honesty and candor. “It’s important for artists to be transparent about this,” she reflected.
Winning the prestigious Betty Bowen Award was a lifeline for Wall, empowering her to dedicate time and resources to her upcoming exhibition at the Seattle Art Museum (SAM) in 2026. As she prepares for this milestone show, Wall describes herself as being in a “generative stage,” envisioning a space where her history unfolds with evocative clarity. “I want to create a stronger narrative presence,” she said. “To bring together my works from different places, like LA and the Boren Banner series, and let them converse on a single wall.”
This exhibition marks a turning point not only in Wall’s career but also in her ability to assert control over her identity, which is deeply rooted in Korean mythology, yet uniquely hers.
For Wall, identity is both a shadow and a light, an aesthetic space of duality where power and turbulence coexist. The concept of “double consciousness,” as described by W.E.B. Du Bois has shaped the diasporic experience in the United States, and her understanding of what it means to be a Black Korean artist. “This idea of two-ness has always been there,” she said. “It manifests as a shadow figure in my work, a haunting presence, like something unnamed but ever-present.”
Her Indivisible series exemplifies this tension, blending the unseen and the visible, the veiled and the revealed. Working with others who share her experience has been transformative, allowing her to build a community that gives voice to the complexities of multiracial identity.
“There’s empowerment in existing outside social categories,” Wall said. “It’s not something to be feared but embraced, a liberation from the boxes that diminish us.” In a previous exhibit review, Wall has prescribed Indivisible within “the air of a face as unanalyzable… a kind of intractable supplement given as the grace of identity..” within Roland Barthe’s (1980) public concepts of visibility.
Wall’s art often reclaims archetypes — witches, monsters, and healers — from mythology, weaving them into her exploration of identity and belonging. Her fascination with Korean shamanism and figures like Eopsin, the Goddess of Storage and Wealth, intersects with her admiration for Octavia Butler’s shapeshifting healer, Anyanwu. These influences converge in her work for the Frye Art Museum’s Boren Banner series, a project that underscores the resilience and adaptability of multiracial identities.
Her autobiographical artwork reflects the haunting atmosphere of her childhood in Uijongbu, Korea, a city that originated as a camp town on the outskirts of Seoul. This was the backdrop for the filming of the U.S. series MASH*, which romanticized the Korean War for international audiences. For Wall, this reality materialized as a veiled, dark presence. “You feel it, no one names it, but it always has a seat at the table,” she recalls, noting that she was aware of it long before her grandmother acknowledged it.
“Korean mythology is the opposite of Western mythology,” Wall explained. “Where the West vilifies women and natural creatures like snakes, Korea worships them. The shaman, as a mediator between the visible and invisible. Artists feel a connection between interior spaces. We create barriers to distance ourselves, but [are] trying to access that interior.” Wall feels that artists are able to locate that internal locus of power to provide agency and resilience within creativity.
Wall’s personal journey mirrors this connection. Her family’s matriarchal lineage, led by her mother and grandmother, steeply rooted in Korean shamanism, has shaped her worldview, fueling her desire to reclaim narratives that have long been silenced. “I want to seek out life histories that speak out more within that narrative. You want to privilege that voice.”
Wall’s artistic philosophy is rooted in a tactile connection to her materials. Her work is both intimate and transcendent, drawing viewers into spaces they might otherwise avoid. “The tools I use feel like extensions of myself,” she shares. Her woodless graphite pencils and layered applications of carbon and ink create textures that evoke the suppleness of skin — an invitation to confront the unknown. “The surface and beauty are a way to seduce the audience into receiving the art…”
She layers atomized inks, carbon, conté crayon, and graphite to create rich, immersive blacks that invite viewers to lose themselves, not into an abyss, but into a darkness that radiates with light and glows with hope. “That draw, that attraction,” she said, “invites the viewer to explore unknown spaces, places we’ve been taught to fear. But confronting the unknown shouldn’t be frightening. It’s about embracing uncertainty.’”
Her work encourages us to accept and embrace our natural anxieties, transforming them into a source of reflection and growth. It is a psychological, emotional, theological, and philosophical expression of her artistic vision.
“There’s something seductive about the surface, the way it draws you in,” Wall says. “I want my work to challenge audiences, to lead them into spaces of uncertainty, and to embrace the anxieties we all feel.”
In her recent series Nothing to Be Afraid Of, Wall balances mythological exploration with themes of identity and loss. The devastating LA fires have left an indelible mark on her and the communities she inspires. “Loss amplifies everything,” she said. “But it’s also an opportunity to reclaim what’s been lost, to find power in the narratives we create.”
Her fascination with the mythology of Jeju Island, and their version of Eopsin, has become a central focus for future work. “The women of Jeju are so unique, empowered, and resilient,” said Wall. “Their mythology feels like a call I need to answer.”
As Wall looks toward her 2026 exhibition at SAM, she is both awed and invigorated. “Winning the Betty Bowen Award felt like being seen,” she said. “It’s affirming to know my work is valued in this way.” For Wall, the exhibition is not just an opportunity to showcase her art but also to foster dialogue about multiracial identity and intersectionality. “I hope audiences come away with open minds, willing to engage with voices and experiences they’ve been taught to fear,” she said.
Having planted her roots in the Pacific Northwest after a childhood spent moving with her military family, Wall is ready to share her story with a broader audience. “This is where I belong,” she said. “And I hope my work helps others feel the same.”
