Glancing tears
‘The glancing tears I shed later may have been for someone new near me.’
When I was young, my parents sometimes left me at my grandmother’s house to return to Seoul. As an only child with two working parents, they chose family, not strangers, to give me the love they couldn’t always be there to provide. (Looking back, I feel I experienced countless shifts in the crowd of people meant to love me.)
Each time, I would hold back my tears until the moment the front door closed behind them—only then allowing the tears to fall down my cheeks. At that time, my gaze wasn’t fixed on myself or the ground beneath me—it lingered, casting a sidelong glance at someone beside me. Was I holding back so my parents wouldn’t see, or was it because I felt I should cry only in front of someone new to comfort me (my grandmother)?
Even then, relationships, belonging, and emotional bonds meant everything to me. It seems the strongest of us are often those who understand the weakness of emotion most deeply, living lives entirely intertwined with it.
Blind Gaze
2024
Mixed media, Single-channel video, 1:00, 50 x 65 x 40 cm
Eyes are the most honest and non falsifiable part of the human body. While they may attempt to conceal their direction, even this act leaves a trace. These sensory tools direct more attention toward others than toward my own emotions. My memory of crying while observing others evolved into a habit of constant vigilance regarding their gazes.
The eyes in the work look straight ahead and also gauge those around me. Yet, despite this vigilant observation, my gaze inevitably gets captured by others in return.
In this dynamic, the boundary between observer and observed blurs. My eyes chase the eyes of others, creating a reflective cycle. As these gazes intertwine, we become trapped in a loop of affirming and carrying each other's emotions. This cycle can lose its purpose, becoming hollow. Ultimately, while observation continues, no one truly sees, and no one is fully seen, leaving us in a state of unfulfilled connection.
Self-Portrait series_Personal Distillation
2024
Mixed media on paper, 42 x 30 cm
My crying self is a poignant childhood memory that I cherish deeply. In this vulnerable state, my gaze shifts away from the front, focusing instead on my surroundings, as if seeking understanding and solace. The swellings of tears are exaggerated, symbolizing the intensity of emotions I held back until I found a safe space to release my true feelings.
This scene encapsulates my most authentic moment, presenting me in the rawest form possible. Throughout my childhood, I experienced shifts in the dynamics of the crowd that once embraced me, prompting introspection about my interactions with others.
Why do I express emotions? Is it truly for myself, or for those who witness them? I wonder if my outward expressions are not solely for my benefit but also for others. Ultimately, we reveal ourselves through relationships, and perhaps these connections shape how we express our emotions.
Self-Portrait series_Intricate Ambiguity
2024
Ink pen on paper, 42 x 30 cm
The drawing depicts an intricately woven vessel, symbolizing the complexity of myself. I hold relationships, stories, emotions—more than I can contain in this deep vessel. Its pointed shape towards the bottom prevents it from standing alone, relying on the balance of its contents and surroundings.
This structure, myself, is both protective and nurturing, serving as a space for growth and transformation. It can be moved to another location when carried by an external force, reflecting how our lives can shift unexpectedly.
What initially appears as a clear form quickly becomes and remains ambiguous. After all, I am a human being, vulnerable and changeable, shaped by the myriad experiences I hold.
Being
2024
oil on canvas, 40x50
Taming symbolizes the formation of a deep bond, where two individuals become irreplaceable to each other. It requires recognizing the other not merely as a being but as a profound presence, perceiving them with the heart.
Human emotions cannot be dissected like objects, and such an analytical approach cannot be considered an act of love. Instead, we sit together at a respectful distance on the grass, occasionally stealing glances to glean insights into each other's thoughts and feelings. This silent communion fosters intimacy without the complications of language—after all, words can often lead to misunderstandings.
In this space of quiet connection, we find a unique understanding, allowing us to embrace the complexity of our emotions. Taming, then, is not about control, but about cultivating a shared presence.
When I Am Among The Trees, 2024, artist book, 00:57