Dear Objects, is a personal, diaristic documentation of everyday life that combines brief stories and still-life photographs. Experiencing everyday moments as a single parent in an expatriated situation, this body of work collects personal memories through temporary or worthless things. Capturing everyday objects of little value from around the home is for remembering and holding indelible memories of daily occurrences. By using domestic settings with objects in a given natural light, this photo/text work depicts ephemeral moments and shares nostalgic memories by taking the viewer on a journey through time. The Korean texts, accompanying the photographs, are written by hand with a grey, metallic pen as a metaphor of intimacy and value. Applying translated texts in English on vellum paper conveys nostalgic sensitivity through its translucent trait of the material while Korean and English texts are overlaying each other within the book form. The impression of vanishing or fainted memories along with the impression of unobtainable stories are both intended by overlapping the texts. Using soft natural light for photographing still lifes creates a quiet ambience. These still-life images and succinct texts explore the process of remembering, forgetting, and holding onto the intangible reminiscences. Dear Objects, not only tells a story of a personal journey, but suggests universal experiences through thoughtful reflection of motherhood, distance, and memory.
Sunday, April 24, 2016
Sometimes Jun goes into the Amazon Prime box to spend time alone. He even tries to close the box flaps and make his whole body fit inside. Jun’s play brings to mind my own childhood memory of making a small shelter using three umbrellas with my brother.
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Jun brought home some cosmos flowers in his hands from a walk with my mom.
Friday, April 1, 2016
Jun collects transparent pieces from his Legos and he calls them “Treasures.”
Saturday, May 28, 2016
I was exhausted from an hour of play in the pool with Jun.I fell asleep to the annoying noise of Jun punching holes in paper. When I woke up this was left for me.
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
My mom brought an inflatable globe for Jun from Korea. He enjoys dribbling it around the house. He learned to do this at school, and will dribble for so long that he breaks into a sweat.
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
“Happy Wife, Happy Life”
Sunday, October 23, 2016
I found a bag of maple cotton candy at a farmer’s market. I would try not to feed the candy to Jun because it could cause cavities, but I thought it would not be as bad for tooth decay as regular cotton candy.
Sunday, February 21, 2016
Jun was 3 years old, and he needed a high chair for his mealtime.
Sunday, October 30, 2016
On Jun’s birthday last summer, we bought two pots of lavender from Lowe’s. We planted them in our garden plot. Due to the scorching summer sun, one of the pots of lavender died. Summer is done. Fall is coming. The temperature had dropped a lot this morning. I was worried that the lavender would freeze, so I dug it out from the garden plot and planted it in a sunny place beside the stairs.
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
I woke up to a snowstorm alert on my phone. The Village was buried under snow and the school was closed. I shoveled snow for an hour and a half and I was dead tired while Jun was super excited digging a snow tunnel. He exclaimed, “The best day ever!” but that was my worst day ever.
American Houses is about the sentiment that I encountered in foreign circumstances and cultures. New surroundings and situations make me feel strange. As a traveler from far away, I assign meaning to trivial things I encounter. I face my new daily life with various feelings, unfamiliarity, curiosity and fear. For most of my life I lived in a bustling city filled with tall buildings. Before moving Rochester, I was unaware of how accustomed I became to the city life: this realization has inspired this work. When constructing my works I manipulate the images of houses I’ve photographed by either cutting the structure out or drawing around it, thus eliminating the space surrounding each house. When drawing I use a sketch pencil, the resulting metallic surface expresses the cold sentiment I associate with the city life. The congested and collage-like composition I create with my cut-out houses conveys my previous perspective I had on domestic spaces due to my background.
RIT Photo Purchase Prize Award, Wallace Library Collection, Rochester Institute of Technology, 2015
MFA in Imaging Arts Work Share, William Harris Gallery, Rochester Institute of Technology, 2015
Views from the Balcony
In the summer of 2013, I moved from Seoul to a new place, Champaign, Illinois with my family. Champaign is a small town surrounded by large agricultural fields. The field visible from my balcony spread out until it touched the sky. This view was completely different from my experience in the big city where I had always previously lived. Seoul bustles with people and its roads are crowded with vehicles. In the city, life is hectic and rushed, and time passes quickly. From my balcony every day I could observe the various colors in nature along with the seasons changing. It seems that time goes slower in that world.