2022 ~ 
Photographic image from films transferred on paper pulp, mixed media
Size variable


Jan 2024;
In contemplating the interplay between the old and the new, I've come to recognize a unique depth that emerges from the aging process. While I appreciate the vibrancy of new experiences, there is a richness in the complexity that unfolds over time. This accumulated history, found in the aged and weathered, carries a profound enlightenment that captivates my fascination.

Over the course of time, a subtle stacking occurs—of experiences, of lives, and of the very land beneath our feet. The cross-section of strata serves as a visual testament to the multitude of lives that have lived and passed away. We, in turn, inhabit a timeline shaped by these layers, living through both collective history and our personal narrative forged by the accumulation of diverse experiences.

The unnoticed accumulation of time-worn elements becomes apparent only upon reflection. These vaguely gathered experiences, seemingly unremarkable at first, transform into the building blocks of individual personalities. Composed of a mosaic of experiences from different time periods, these bricks form the foundation of our concepts. As we selectively reveal the most recent or impactful experiences, we engage in a continuous process of refinement, peeling back the layers to uncover the intricacies within.

This stacking of bricks, where experiences and time intertwine, is not a mere chronological accumulation—it is a fusion of values and varied shapes coming together to give rise to novel concepts. Unexpected combinations from different eras offer fresh perspectives and insights. Through this continuous process, I, as an individual, find strength and grounding. The peculiar harmony of bricks that differ yet fit together with uncanny propriety constantly encounters new additions, creating concepts yet to be unveiled.

Oct 20;

By accumulating experiences and emotions in their time, personality is constructed. Every single individual's experience makes each person a unique person. So, everyone understands the world in slightly different ways.

But time goes by constantly, and people keep growing, too. The world they see is continually changing, and what they perceive is a unique world to every moment that exists only at that point.

I exist. And I am a unique human being who lives on time every second. And me existing on the multiple timelines connect back and forth between the past and the future.

I couldn't imagine myself now ten years ago. But, I am somehow connected to the future, as sometimes I am enlightened from what I had in the past. So, I record what I perceive now for that time.

My present is a combination of multiple time zones. Past times exist in the contemporary time through me. The mixture of me at various times becomes a link to prove my existence in the future.

Jan 2023;

When the memory becomes the story

There is no same memory.

People remember the same thing, but no one has the "same" memory.

From the big story called life to the small things that happen daily, people live through various happenings and remember them. Since everyone's life is different, memories are also recorded in different shapes, even though they remember the same event.

Some memory becomes a story. Time passing cannot naturally makes it. It happens when people constantly consider a memory that impressed them for a long time. Only memories refined with such thoughts exist as a story.

The memory that became a story spreads, just as  its name, "Story." And the story is remembered as a memory by another.

I compress the moment of my life into a frame called  "Photo." And just as I live with various experiences and thoughts, I add, remove, or overturn the memory in the picture, making the memory into a story. My story is becoming more abstract. But it seems similar to my appreciation of my memory.

This process reminds me of piling a small tower with stones in the mountains when I was young. I searched the hill to find stones I liked with a vague wish. Looking at the sloppy tower I piled up, I thought my wish would come true. Maybe I am making my memory into a story in a similar way. Am I wishing myself full of stories that might have been a little better?

Everyone is living with their own story.

And I am completing my story one by one today.

Sep 2022;

As I hiked amongst the trees, there were towers I saw, built of stones, and I stared at them, fascinated.

They sat by a trail I'd often go to and over time, the trail went through changes.

Typhoons blew by and the road even flooded, but despite the changes, the towers of stone always stood.

In all the silence of that trail, among the quiet trees, the towers seemed to speak to me.

Then a thought came to me, as I looked at the stone tower: living is similar. Events of varying values constantly happen in our lives; a small inconvenience could cause us significant pain or something we were anxious about might turn out well. The story of who we are are made of the different, varying, and random things that happen in our lives.

Just as the stones are scattered, piled together to form into a tower, I gather the pieces of my experience and stack them into an amalgamation of who I am.  

When I need to put down my thoughts, I still prefer to use paper and pencil. But my thoughts do not always fit into words. When this situation arises, I crumple up the paper instead, and lump them together. To me, the crumpled paper are like stones, a shape made by an unconscious nature. The wrinkled and lumpy forms somehow seem similar to my thoughts or situation.

Such things, created by the release of emotion without any clear purpose, piled up in my space, like a stone rolling down a street.

Though words can't define the stones, they became something to me. Things that were nothing began to become something. Crumpling paper made my thoughts clear, like a period to a sentence.

A tower of my sentiments solidified.

Documentation Video;
Jul 2022

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