2024-ongoing
So I turned to my mother’s story. She endured the same violence alongside me, and at the same time, she was the reason I couldn’t leave. Knowing she had no family of her own, I understood that my leaving would mean abandoning her in pain. I felt guilty for wanting to escape. Caught in a tangle of conflicted emotions between us, I flailed for a long time before I chose literature and photography as my tools of resistance. To live through reality while still speaking out—this artistic act became a kind of compromise. I couldn’t leave, not yet. But I had to speak.
This project offers an alternative perspective on survival. Rather than legal retaliation or physical revenge, I chose quiet—perhaps passive, perhaps hesitant—ways of protecting and revealing. Is this weak, even foolish? Will this work remain unresolved as long as the violence continues? Where does healing begin? I continue to ask. And like the dull ache that lingers in my cheek, I remain uncertain of the ending.
The Cincinnati Zoo in Ohio attempted to protect the species by housing a pair of pigeons, but the species became extinct after Martha’s death. I saw a parallel between this tragic extinction and the reckless abuse of the vulnerable.
Shifting, 2024, Undergraduate Thesis Show, The Seoulitium, Seoul, Korea
Misdelivered Letter, 2024. 100-page handmade photobook, 19x15x4cm, chipboard, paper, glue, prints, fallen leaf, and plastic bag, edition #1/1.