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Kate Bae is a multi-disciplinary immigrant artist based in NYC and South Korea. Her practice encompasses painting, alongside the creation of site-specific installations and sculptural works. Bae holds an MFA from the Rhode Island School of Design and a BFA in Painting from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She is the founder of Women's Cactus for the Arts and has exhibited nationally and internationally, including recent shows at the Jeju Museum of Art, Korea and the Brooklyn Museum, NY. Bae is a recipient of grants from the Puffin Foundation, Foundation for the Contemporary Art, the Real Art Award, the MVP Chapter Lead Grant from the Malikah Gender Justice Institute, and the Ora Lerman Trust. She has attended residencies at the Sculpture Space, Golden Foundation, the Studios at Mass MoCA, the Trestle Gallery, the Wassaic Project, Chashama, and the Lower East Side Printshop, among others.
Published on March 2nd, 2026. Artist responses collected in months previous.
Was pursuing your creative work a calling for you? How do you define calling within your practice? Share a concise definition and a moment when this felt most true.
I do feel that pursuing creative work was a calling. Even before I was born, my parents were told by a fortune teller that I would only be suited for art or music — but the pull came from inside, not from prophecy. For me, a calling is that persistent inner question about the purpose of life that won’t leave you alone, the thing you keep returning to even before you understand what it is. I felt this most clearly as a child. Around age seven, long before I knew what “art” meant, I stayed up all night drawing, practicing, and trying to understand something I couldn’t yet name. By junior high, I spent months secretly making comic books from 1 a.m. to 5 a.m., hiding the light under my blanket so my parents wouldn’t find out. Looking back, that quiet, obsessive devotion was the first evidence that this wasn’t a hobby — it was the only path that made sense to me.
What does a successful career in the arts look like to you today? Describe how you measure success now and note any shifts from earlier in your career.
For a long time, I thought I was building a successful career because I was accomplishing things — residencies, exhibitions, grants. But I wasn’t actually successful inside. Only recently, really since early October, I’ve begun to understand what success means for me now. Today, success is when my heart and mind are aligned. It’s the feeling that my work, my pace, and my decisions are coming from the right place within me, not from pressure or expectation. This is a very new shift, and in some ways it feels like the true beginning of my actual career. I don’t know how it will look in the long run, but I finally have clarity, and I’m moving slowly, deliberately, and with a sense of inner alignment that I never had before.
How are you kind to yourself in your art practice? (Include one or two concrete examples such as boundaries, rest, or studio routines.)
I’m learning to be kind to myself by allowing rest and moving at my own pace. I no longer overcommit to projects or exhibitions, and I say no when I need to. I also take care of my body — walking, biking, or swimming — which helps me return to the studio clearer and more grounded. I’m forgiving toward myself, maybe even too much at times, but honoring my own rhythm has become essential to sustaining my practice.
What impact do you hope your work has on others? Name the response you hope to spark and who you most want to reach.
I hope my work inspires people and opens a mental space they don’t usually have access to — a space of love, wonder, and deep serenity. I want viewers to feel a sense of calm and possibility, as if they can breathe a little differently for a moment. I’m especially drawn to reaching people who feel displaced or in-between, those moving through grief, endurance, or transformation, and those who need healing or guidance. I also hope to reach people who don’t normally enter art spaces, and offer them a place of reflection and renewal through the work.
Do you have any rituals or spiritual practices that you integrate into your daily life as an artist? If relevant, mention frequency, timing, or how the practice supports your work.
I have a few simple rituals that anchor my daily life as an artist. I journal heavily — often first thing in the morning — to clear my mind and understand where my emotions and ideas are sitting. I also listen to music as a way to shift my inner atmosphere and open myself to a different state of attention. Throughout the day, I check my energy before starting or committing to anything; it helps me stay aligned and work from a place that feels honest rather than forced. These small practices keep me grounded and connected to the deeper layers of my work.
Was pursuing your creative work a calling for you? How do you define calling within your practice? Share a concise definition and a moment when this felt most true.
I do feel that pursuing creative work was a calling. Even before I was born, my parents were told by a fortune teller that I would only be suited for art or music — but the pull came from inside, not from prophecy. For me, a calling is that persistent inner question about the purpose of life that won’t leave you alone, the thing you keep returning to even before you understand what it is. I felt this most clearly as a child. Around age seven, long before I knew what “art” meant, I stayed up all night drawing, practicing, and trying to understand something I couldn’t yet name. By junior high, I spent months secretly making comic books from 1 a.m. to 5 a.m., hiding the light under my blanket so my parents wouldn’t find out. Looking back, that quiet, obsessive devotion was the first evidence that this wasn’t a hobby — it was the only path that made sense to me.
What does a successful career in the arts look like to you today? Describe how you measure success now and note any shifts from earlier in your career.
For a long time, I thought I was building a successful career because I was accomplishing things — residencies, exhibitions, grants. But I wasn’t actually successful inside. Only recently, really since early October, I’ve begun to understand what success means for me now. Today, success is when my heart and mind are aligned. It’s the feeling that my work, my pace, and my decisions are coming from the right place within me, not from pressure or expectation. This is a very new shift, and in some ways it feels like the true beginning of my actual career. I don’t know how it will look in the long run, but I finally have clarity, and I’m moving slowly, deliberately, and with a sense of inner alignment that I never had before.
How are you kind to yourself in your art practice? (Include one or two concrete examples such as boundaries, rest, or studio routines.)
I’m learning to be kind to myself by allowing rest and moving at my own pace. I no longer overcommit to projects or exhibitions, and I say no when I need to. I also take care of my body — walking, biking, or swimming — which helps me return to the studio clearer and more grounded. I’m forgiving toward myself, maybe even too much at times, but honoring my own rhythm has become essential to sustaining my practice.
What impact do you hope your work has on others? Name the response you hope to spark and who you most want to reach.
I hope my work inspires people and opens a mental space they don’t usually have access to — a space of love, wonder, and deep serenity. I want viewers to feel a sense of calm and possibility, as if they can breathe a little differently for a moment. I’m especially drawn to reaching people who feel displaced or in-between, those moving through grief, endurance, or transformation, and those who need healing or guidance. I also hope to reach people who don’t normally enter art spaces, and offer them a place of reflection and renewal through the work.
Do you have any rituals or spiritual practices that you integrate into your daily life as an artist? If relevant, mention frequency, timing, or how the practice supports your work.
I have a few simple rituals that anchor my daily life as an artist. I journal heavily — often first thing in the morning — to clear my mind and understand where my emotions and ideas are sitting. I also listen to music as a way to shift my inner atmosphere and open myself to a different state of attention. Throughout the day, I check my energy before starting or committing to anything; it helps me stay aligned and work from a place that feels honest rather than forced. These small practices keep me grounded and connected to the deeper layers of my work.
Find Kate Bae on Instagram
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