When I was younger it was difficult to be vulnerable with my parents. It wasn’t that it wasn’t allowed, it was that it was never addressed, something that is common in a Korean household. Without having their own representations of compassion and vulnerability, it culminated to a cultural normality of loneliness and isolation, which then passed onto me.
Without a space to be vulnerable and struggling with loneliness, I looked to animals to be recognized and understood. Alone with my observations of the animals in my backyard, I was left to imagine the kinds of relationships they had with one another. Creating romantic relationships, friendships, and rivalries in my backyard, the animals became my own representation of what it meant to be compassionate and vulnerable.
Through clay, I am able to recreate the stories of these animals, acting as a bridge to reconnecting with my parents. My sculptures are painted with muted colors, burnished with terra sigilitta, creating a smooth and soft surface. These sculptures address my memories of disconnection throughout my childhood, recreating them with a passionate, caring, and keen eye. My sculptures feel quiet and provide a space for reflection.
Utilizing animals as my subject, it becomes easier to unpack my isolation, mending my relationship with my culture that seemingly lacks vulnerability.