Through Lee Min Kyu’s Eyes: A Mirror, a Flower, a Story
Welcome Lee, we are very excited to have you today with us to discuss about your work.
Who is Lee Min Kyu and how did the passion for creating begin?
Since I was young, I’ve always found it easier to express myself through images rather than words. Growing up in a complicated family environment, I often had to hold back my thoughts. That led me to fall in love with “visual language” — through film, writing, and photography. When I made my first short film, I felt something click. This was my language. Creating became a form of liberation, a way to prove I was still alive. I started to slowly pull stories and emotions out from within me, and that’s when I began walking the path of a storyteller.
Can you tell us a bit about your previous work?
I began with my first short film Video Studio in 2020, followed by The End of Love, which was selected for the Chungmuro Short Film Festival — a project where I directed, wrote, and also acted. Other works include Do As You Please and Insert Text Here, where I experimented with different tones and visual forms. My films often explore the cracks in human emotions, the silence born from relationships, and the lingering weight of unresolved feelings. Whether through black comedy or melancholic drama, I aim to reveal the unfamiliar within the familiar.
‘‘Me’’ unfolds in such a haunting yet intimate way. What was the very first spark of inspiration for this story?
The first image that came to me was of a woman standing in front of a mirror, watching a flower bloom from her eye. Emotionally, it began from this strange feeling I had — as if some relationships end, yet certain words, scents, or habits left behind keep growing inside you. It was drawn from my own experiences with heartbreak, but it also felt universal. I started imagining the flower as a visual embodiment of emotional residue. From there, the story expanded into something that blends reality with fantasy, grief with beauty.
CONVERSATION ABOUT: ''ME''
The relationship dynamics in “Me” feel both intimate and universal. How did you approach crafting a story that’s both deeply personal and symbolically rich?
I always begin with the character’s inner world. With Jenny, I didn’t want to explain her wounds directly. Instead, I chose to externalize them through symbols and surreal elements. It felt more powerful to see her pain than to simply hear it. I also approached the relationship not as a story of misunderstanding or betrayal, but as one where both people are sincere — just not in sync. That made it feel more real, and more painful. I was less interested in emotional clarity, and more in emotional residue — the quiet ache that lingers. I focused on restraint, silence, and visual metaphors rather than dramatic dialogue, so that audiences could feel something without necessarily naming it.
Are the flowers symbols of beauty growing from pain, or burdens that need to be removed? Or maybe both?
To me, the flowers represent “beautiful remnants.” They are what’s left behind after love or trauma — something that helped you grow, but also something that may continue to hurt. So yes, they’re both blessings and burdens. I intentionally didn’t specify the exact type of flower. Rather than tying them to a single symbolic meaning, I wanted the flowers to feel strange, unnatural in the everyday world — so that each viewer could bring their own interpretation and emotional context to them.
What was the most emotionally challenging scene for you to direct — either for yourself or for the actors?
The scene where Jenny reveals the flower in her eye to Eunyoung was the most emotionally difficult. It wasn’t just a confession — it was about exposing something deeply shameful, something even she had trouble facing. The moment required stillness more than dialogue, and emotional arrival more than emotional display. I worked closely with the actors to find the right nuance. Watching from behind the monitor, I was suddenly reminded of a relationship where I wasn’t fully accepted for who I was — and I couldn’t speak for a long time after the scene ended. I knew I had to stay grounded as a director, but in that moment, I broke — not as a filmmaker, but as a person.
What reactions do you hope to elicit from audiences watching your project?
I hope this film helps people recall past feelings — or confront the ones they’re still carrying. I want them to know it’s okay not to have moved on yet. That even our pain can be part of something beautiful.
In future projects, do you plan to explore similar genre intersections, or are there other genres you’re eager to explore?
I’ve always been drawn to stories that explore the human psyche — often through psychological drama, romance, or black comedy. But I’m also eager to experiment with other genres like fantasy or sci-fi, as long as they still serve the core emotional truth of the story. I don’t want to be confined by genre. Instead, I’d like to find the form that best expresses the feeling — whether that’s a surreal love story, or a minimalist thriller about grief.
If “Me” were expanded into a full-length feature, what new layers would you want to explore in Jenny and Eunyoung’s story?
In a feature-length version, I’d want to dive deeper into their past — the roots of Jenny’s trauma, and the inner conflict that pulls Eunyoung toward her but also makes her withdraw. I’d also want to explore how the flower itself evolves within their relationship: is it something they can live with, or something that ultimately separates them? And rather than framing healing as “recovery,” I’d focus on how we carry the remnants of emotion and still find ways to live — maybe even love — with them.
This marks the conclusion of the interview featuring our esteemed artist, Lee Min Kyu. Our community is growing steadily, with a continuous influx of skilled filmmakers and screenwriters joining us. Explore our other interviews, and consider scheduling one for yourself to showcase your creative endeavors.
