I grew up in Korea, in a place not far from Gyeongju, an ancient city steeped in history and cultural heritage. Looking back, I realize how much those everyday surroundings shaped me, grounding my work as a potter in the deep roots of my childhood.

 

Later, I studied history and earned an MFA in photography, which led me to work as a professional photographer. It wasn’t long before I found myself at the forefront of one of the most dramatic shifts in photography’s history, as analog and digital photography began to overlap and evolve together. Photography, to me, was an art of patience—waiting for the decisive moment and capturing it in a way that conveyed the depth of time. This naturally led me to a medium that also straddles time: clay.

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My pottery reflects the path I’ve walked. It carries the imprint of the ancient relics I saw as a child, the insights gained from capturing fleeting moments through a lens, and the uncertainty and impermanence I felt after leaving Korea for an unfamiliar place. My work is a conversation between the past and present, permanence and impermanence, balance and imbalance, East and West, and the old and new. 

 

Through my hands, I shape clay much like time shapes memory—layer by layer, fragile yet enduring. Each piece I create feels like a dialogue between worlds, a quiet meditation on what remains, what fades, and what we choose to carry forward.