Kimjang as choreography, memory as flavor. A woman feeds another with playful affection, joy blooming beneath aprons and labor. In their stained sleeves and sunlit faces, we see more than work-something ancestral, collective, radiant. A celebration of hands that nourish and stories passed down without needing to be spoken.

A child drains life from a bin of fish, his shirt urging, DO YOUR PART! - a haunting irony. Ocean life swirls behind him, fading into a city that no longer sees. In this quiet collision of innocence and destruction, the piece asks: Who bears the weight of what we waste?

This piece captures the surreal contrast between the most radiant moments of our lives and the inevitability of death. The brilliantly scattering petals seamlessly connect with the withered flowers on the ground, illustrating that death is not a final end, but an ongoing process. It serves as a poignant reminder to deeply cherish and remember the precious moments we are living right now.

This piece depicts the struggle of a woman who is both visible and hidden. The hands obscuring her face represent a systematic attempt to silence her, reflecting how societies and institutions can cover the truth and prevent people from seeing the reality of women's experiences.

A portrait of a student’s gradmother, who fulfilled her life commitment, had a grateful heart and aged gracefully like every grandmother in the world.

Hanok, a traditional Korean house with aesthetic tiles, reveals its beauty.

A display of the new and old cultures of a student’s life together, representing the harmonious balance of my identity.

Bathed in the soft golden morning light, I captured a candid photograph of a moment that deeply moved me—a foreign volunteer sharing joyous laughter with a Korean elder over fresh kimchi. Kimjang—the shared tradition of making kimchi together—becomes a universal bridge of love, community, and sharing. In their bright smiles, language barriers dissolve, celebrating global harmony and the tender warmth of human connection.

Fish hung to dry seemed to gaze longingly at the vast, undulating ocean—the endless home from which they were severed. Like these silent forms facing the tide, a quiet yearning remains within us to return to our true origin and purpose. Even as life slowly ebbs away, the spirit continues to reach toward the boundless waters of memory and hope.

Traditional Hanoks have long stood as silent witnesses to Seoul’s rapid growth. My artwork captures this sharp contrast: wooden eaves resting atop stone steps, surrounded by power lines and a small cafe. It is a visual mirror of my own identity. Living far from home, I often navigate the delicate balance between my cultural roots and a fast-moving modern world.