ARTIST

• Duck, Drawn, 2025, pencil on endpaper, 14.6×22 cm(2).
• Feather Cuts, 2025, styrofoam, rebar, dimensions variable.
• and Good night, 2021, acrylic on CVC fabric, 38×45.7 cm.
• Not a thing yet_clench, 2025, acrylic on photographic paper, 170×120 cm.
• Not a thing yet_unclench, 2025, acrylic on photographic paper, 170×120 cm.
• Feather Cuts, 2025, gold foam, dimensions variable.

Not yet a thing Artist’s Note

1. 2022.02.18 — Cast collection completed
From Sinchon Severance Hospital: 42 pieces_15 legs, 26 hands and arms, 1 neck
From Konyang University Hospital: 31 pieces_13 legs, 18 hands and arms
2. I walked out of the Severance casting room carrying two large cleaning bags filled with casts. It felt like something people shouldn’t see. I didn’t want them to drag on the f loor. I moved carefully.
3. The casts from Konyang Hospital arrived by parcel.
4. 73 bodies. 73 parts.
5. The smell in the studio changed.
6. COVID-19 is still out there. I sprayed more disinfectants on the cast pieces.
7. I left them spread across the studio for days, just looking. One hand kept catching my eye. I picked it up. It seemed to be about the same size as mine. I laid my palm flat over it. It matched. I gently bent my fingers match its form.
8. No age. No race. No gender.
12. Not yet something I could call an “thing.”
13. Two surfaces—instep and shin. Two surfaces—one on the thumb and the other on the pinky.
14. Traces of pus, grime, blood, and hair remain.
15. The smell from each cast almost matches that of the entire cast pieces.
16. Eventually, I put on gloves. Using scissors to cut away the fabric. Pus, old stains — sliced clean. The smell made me hold my breath.
17. The event softens. The individuality fades.
19. These forms — careless silhouettes, only half retaining their original shape.
20. The form of the other.
23. When plaster sets, it produces heat. I wrapped the mold with both of my hands. It was warm. Still not fully hardened. Still not quite a thing.
24. A lump of hollow body. Clay, kneaded by hand could be a better option.
25. White.
26. Observe the exterior. Don’t imagine carelessly.
27. Ways of becoming a thing.
33. The silhouette became mass.
34. A hand I made out of clay finally dried. Touching the blocky hand feels like a handshake.
37. I step in, as the other begins to disappear.
39. Fragile places. Fragile bodies.
40. The lost arms have now been collected, said the torsos.
41. Looking at these emerging forms, I wonder—do I need to keep drawing?
42. Between tree and me—makes me think of frottage. CAST
43. I return to the studio after several days. Dozens of bodies lie tilted, as if asleep.
45. I’ve touched the white hand so often that I left stains from my hand. It slowly let go of its former self, and came closer to me.
46. The sense of making and the sense of painting—these don’t coexist well. Making feels more like drawing.
47. Hugging and vomiting.
48. An unnamed mass appears when I rub the surface.
54. The nature of controlling the body.
55. A roller. Using the sensation of control to paint.
56. The roller is rightfully oil paint. Its sticky viscosity lingers like the friction of the cast being rubbed again and again.
57. My sense of abstraction begins to stretch.
58. The texture from the roller’s friction feels like the sensation of skin pulling away from contact.
60. The exterior, the mass, the interior—back to the exterior, as I watch the empty place.
61. Not a missing body but a body that’s left.
62. Tracing, touching, feeling. Emptying and filling the outlines. Somewhere other than air.
63. Outside is the other.
64. Taking a part of an immobile body to turn it into a still life.
65. Failed everything today. This drawing—must not leave the feeling on the screen.
66. Don’t stray from drawing.
69. Drawing only the cast again.
70. After drawing the cast, I realized I should bring the handshake performance I once did for fun into the center of the work.
72. Surface, proximity, exterior.
73. It was a quiet place.