William Lee

The Rhythmic Aura of Silver

CRAFTING THE PERMANENCE OF NATURE WITH THE MOVEMENT OF LIQUID

Spending three hours with William Lee was a profound experience that extended far beyond a simple artist profile; it became a moment of self-reflection, guided by the wisdom of a man who has navigated a life of immense challenge and global success.

His studio is nestled in the historic heart of Seoul near Gyeongbokgung Palace, a setting as storied as the craft he practices. I entered the space with a mix of curiosity and excitement, eager to meet one of the world's finest silversmiths. The studio was a sensory landscape of his journey: shelves lined with previous masterpieces, a massive wooden table for gathering, and a dedicated forge where he showed me the alchemy of his trade, using fire to transform the very color and character of silver.

"I heard that you are very famous for hosting BBQ parties in your studio, especially over the big silver metal"

He answered with a laugh, "I am always working unless someone calls me to say, 'Let’s get some drinks.'"

So you’ve mentioned that you weren't born with a "silver spoon." How did your early years in Korea lead you to metalwork?

Even though I didn’t grow up rich, my parents worked hard, and that financial independence probably allowed me to be stubborn about my path. I originally majored in metal processing at an industrial high school in Korea. When it came time to get a job, I told my teacher that I would like to do Daegong (large-scale metalwork) instead of Saegong (fine jewelry). While the jewelry population was large, very few people were doing Daegong.

You chose Daegong over Saegong. What drew you to that larger scale, specifically with silver?

I’ve worked with gold, amber, and diamonds—I like things that sparkle. But I wanted to make things that had physical presence. Silver allowed for that scale. In the craft world, we look at the "aura" of a piece. A large silver vessel has a different weight and traditional value than a small gold ring. I wanted to be the person making the big pieces, the centerpieces.

And after that, you decided to go to the UK?

In the 1990s, I worked at a small silver work company called “Uno Silverware” in Myeong-dong. At Uno, we made tableware using sterling silver plates. It was groundbreaking in Korea at the time, but the company couldn't last a year. I tried several new things, but the material quality was different from Europe. Even when we matched the material quality, there was no demand in Korea then.

After my military service, I decided to go to Britain because I saw it as a "country of silversmiths". I wanted to play in a bigger pool! A country that is famous for silverware and has a real market. In that scene, the UK is unmatched. It’s a matter of market scale; high-end collectors go where the history is deep and the quality is verified. Even in Germany, those seeking truly world-class pieces often look to the British market because the system there supports that level of mastery.

It must have been tough to survive in the UK scene as a Korean person back then, especially since you didn't attend a prestigious college like the Royal College of Art (RCA).

I had to be the top. I was working 14 to 16 hours a day just to keep my "A-grade" status among the locals. You have to be willing to kill yourself over the work to stay at the top. Honestly, many artists don’t "study". They fall into routines, spending half their time teaching and the other half just repeating what they already know without researching or seeing what else is happening in the world. If you aren't obsessed, you aren't a craftsman; you’re a hobbyist. Eventually, I found the way that could truly express me.

Your famous masterpiece, the Silver Moon Jar, was also made during your time in the UK, wasn't it?

Yes, I had been making centerpieces only during my time in the UK. The Silver Moon Jar, first released in 2008, was the result of agonizing over how to capture "Korean beauty". I became addicted to the jar's full lines. While jars exist in Korea, China, and Japan, their lines and proportions are all different.

I removed the base of the jar, narrowed the mouth, and lengthened the neck slightly, while softly lowering the volume of the sphere’s shoulder. Most beautiful is the surface texture, expressed as liquid movement - "flowing," "melting," "freezing," or "sweeping". It captures human turmoil and the four seasons of nature in the cold, smooth metal. I removed the base specifically because I didn't want the flow of the line to be interrupted. While a base is necessary for ceramics, it is not required for metal. I don't want to follow habitual processes blindly. I also reinterpreted the traditional Korean silhouette, which is shaped to be easily held and poured with one hand, into a slimmer, modern volume.

It is almost impossible to believe that such a voluminous form starts from nothing more than one small silver plate. Could you tell us about your methodology how you transform a single sheet into such a masterpiece?

I take a single silver plate - not that heavy depends on the size of work and simply I hammer it tens of thousands of times. I don't use a lathe or modern machinery; it is all rhythmic, obsessive labor. I eventually hammer the silver until it is as thin as a sheet of paper.

Now you are based in Korea. Has that changed how you work?

In the UK and Europe, it was largely commission-based; you make a masterpiece and take orders. In Korea, I had to adapt because the market is different. I started making more accessible items like tea sets and cups, but I keep the quality high. I simply work harder and hammer more than anyone else. A good example is my O-ttu-gi (Wobbly) cups. They were born from this need for smaller, more approachable pieces, yet they carry a deep philosophy - "to be shaken but never fall." They are weighted at the base so that no matter how much they tilt, they always return to center - a metaphor for staying firm in one's place no matter what. Achieving that perfect balance through hand-hammering is a massive technical challenge, even thought it's a small cup.

Do you have any advice or a message you want to share?

I want to ask you actually: why are you doing this? What makes you do this interview and this magazine? Think about why you are doing this seriously and also what you are good at. I became a silversmith because I genuinely liked hammering and I was good at it. People choose paths without thinking enough, and it’s not a good enough reason.