Between material, light, and time, perception finds its form. Working with paper, plaster, wood, gelatin, and glycerin, each material shifts quietly as it responds to gravity, humidity, and touch. Through malleable mold-making, unsealed surfaces, and durational wetting, forms soften, erode, collapse, and harden again. Each becomes a living record of time and relationship, slowly adjusting to its surroundings.
Resting low to the ground and pressed against the existing space, the sculptures are shaped by everything that surrounds them—a blanket of sunlight, a trace of dust, a passing breeze—just as we are. This responsiveness echoes the principle of interdependence (known in Korean as 연기 yeon-gi), the understanding that all existence arises in relation rather than in isolation. We give parts of ourselves to others, become deeply entangled, and inevitably part ways—emotionally, physically, spiritually. Yet something always remains: a residue, a fold, a soft dent in the self. In these cycles of softening and hardening, I recognize something deeply human.
My work offers a space to reflect on how life unfolds beyond our control. In slowing down, our gaze shifts and attunes to gradual change. It is an embodiment of quiet acceptance, a gesture of yielding, absorbing, and becoming.