Shinsunghwa: The Visualization of Johann Sebastian Bach’s Spiritual Energy (2020)
A Commentary on ShinsungHwa: Bach
In Bach’s ShinsungHwa, the spiritual and the earthly seem to meet in a quiet conversation. Here, the space above his head opens into the spiritual realm, while the space beneath his feet anchors him in the material world.
As I worked, my hands—guided by the flow of Qi—kept drifting toward the area below his feet, as if searching for deeper strands of spiritual information. The pull was so strong that I added an extra sheet beneath the main ShinsungHwa piece, allowing it to hold what could not fit on the first.
From his spiritual core, a symbol of light emerged in shades of red, standing out vividly against its surroundings. Bach believed that all things were given by God. He composed for God, and returned every honor to Him. Around his body, a swirling, cylindrical field of energy seemed to carry the force of his musical devotion.
Beneath his feet lies a rectangular field of energy—his material foundation. At each corner, an eight-directional matrix operates across three layers, actively shaping material expression. Lower still rests the material core, surrounded by a sixteen-directional energy system—an arrangement that hints at the vast scope of his worldly influence. At its center lies the symbol of the cosmic principle, enclosed first by the eight-directional system, then embraced by the sixteen. The entire structure sits within an oval-shaped energy field. Through music, his spiritual design continues to radiate life-giving energy, inspiring people even now.
As the imagery descends, the sense of materiality deepens—into the solid, tangible world we know through our senses, our bodies, and the time-bound space of human life.
The Second ShinsungHwa
I often create multiple ShinsungHwa pieces for a single subject. Too much spiritual information on one page can become tangled, so I allow each flow to take its own sheet. In the second work, an energy field appeared in his right hand, overlapping with an eight-directional matrix. It seemed tied to his talents. The matrix connected to twisted, unsettled strands of energy—like tangled threads. Below that, I saw dense, heavy blocks of energy. From the lower right, a streamlined current flowed toward his foot—a quiet reminder that his life was not without hardship.
The Third ShinsungHwa
Here, at the center of his navel, a large symbol of light appeared. Another—this one a material symbol—was found below his feet. In ShinsungHwa, the navel often signifies both the power to create reality and the innate strength one carries from birth.
The Fourth ShinsungHwa
In the final work, an energy field appeared at his head. Around his body, a heavy, square-shaped form took shape, yet it never touched the space near his head. It stayed back, the way water pulls away from oil. The weight that surrounded him in life never reached his spiritual essence.
In the end, the obstacles that press against us often become the very backdrop against which our spirit shines. Over time, the weight of the world can give rise to something rare and enduring—like a diamond, formed in the depths of pressure.
Quote
“Like all music, the figured bass should have no other end and aim than the glory of God and the recreation of the soul; where this is not kept in mind there is no true music, but only an infernal clamour and ranting.”
“Where there is devotional music, God with his grace is always present.”
“To the glory of the most high God alone, and that my neighbour may be educated thereby.”
“Soli Deo Gloria” (S.D.G.)
Johann Sebastian Bach: A Life in Music and Quiet Determination
Some lives leave their mark not because of fame, but because a person simply kept doing what they loved. Johann Sebastian Bach was one of those people. His story had no grand battles or castles—only a steady, unshakable drive to make music.
A Childhood Shaped by Loss and Music
Bach was born on March 31, 1685, in Eisenach, a small town in today’s Germany. His family had been musicians for generations, so music was simply part of daily life. His father taught him the violin and harpsichord; his mother sang. Then, when he was nine, both parents died within months of each other.
He moved in with his older brother, Johann Christoph, in Ohrdruf. Christoph, an organist, continued his training with discipline and care. A well-known story—true or not—tells of young Bach sneaking into his brother’s cabinet to copy music by candlelight. It fits what we know about him: curious, determined, and unwilling to wait.
Striking Out on His Own
As a teenager, Bach earned a place as a choirboy in Lüneburg, far from home. He absorbed everything—organ works, new styles, and influences from abroad. Travel was difficult, but he once walked over 200 miles to hear a famous organist play. That’s how much it meant to him.
By his late teens, he had his own organist posts in small towns, later moving to larger churches. His skill was admired, but so was his stubborn streak. If he felt the music was poor, he said so. It won him respect, but also trouble.
Work, Family, and Obstacles
Bach married twice and had 20 children, though only 10 lived to adulthood. Loss was part of life then, yet his home rang with music. Several sons became musicians, learning by helping him copy scores.
His jobs took him to churches, noble courts, and city halls. The positions offered stability but also constant oversight from people who didn’t always share his vision. At one job, disagreements ran so deep he was briefly jailed for “stubbornness” before leaving for another post.
Still, he kept writing, teaching, and performing. In Leipzig, as music director at St. Thomas Church, he wrote a new cantata nearly every week—an astonishing pace alongside his other duties.
The Person Behind the Wig
Bach wasn’t just a stern figure in formal portraits. He could be fiery in debate, fond of a drink with friends, and deeply invested in his students’ growth.
Much of his work served practical needs—church services, weddings, civic events. Music was a craft for the present moment, not a monument for the future. He likely never imagined his works would still be played centuries later.
Out of Fashion, Then Rediscovered
In his lifetime, Bach was respected as a performer and teacher but not a celebrity composer. By his death in 1750, his style seemed old-fashioned, and his music faded from public life.
In the 1800s, Felix Mendelssohn and others revived his works, sparking a new appreciation. That rediscovery placed Bach at the very foundation of Western classical music.
Bach’s music balances precision and warmth. The Brandenburg Concertos burst with life, while the Mass in B Minor feels vast and deeply moving. His Well-Tempered Clavier—keyboard works in every key—was groundbreaking and is still essential for pianists today.
Even people who think they’ve never heard Bach have likely encountered his melodies in films, commercials, or everyday life.
The Complicated Side
Bach’s faith shaped much of his work, but church positions in 18th-century Germany also tied him to politics and community rules. His jobs offered security but also limits.
He had a temper, too. As a young man, he once drew a sword in an argument with another musician. It went no further, but it’s a reminder that great artists are still human.
When Bach died in Leipzig, he was buried in an unmarked grave. His name faded for a while, but his music did not. Over time, it has traveled far beyond the towns he knew, influencing composers, jazz musicians, and students worldwide.
Listening Now
Three centuries on, his music still feels alive. The opening of the Cello Suites sounds like discovery; the Goldberg Variations reveal both discipline and play. His work can command your full attention or quietly keep you company.
Bach’s life had hardship and limits. Yet he kept doing what he loved—not for fame, but because it was part of who he was. That steady devotion may be his truest legacy.
