I am drawn to the morphological aspects of the human body, particularly its symmetry and upright posture. In my visual research, these characteristics repeatedly emerge across anatomical structures—including the genitalia—which I approach as formal and structural elements rather than as symbols of sexuality.

By emphasizing symmetry and verticality, I aim to transform the body into a totemic form: a symbolic figure that gestures toward a collective human identity rather than an individual one. This line of inquiry forms the foundation of my Body Study series.

The Body Study series explores organic forms derived from different parts of the human body. In contrast, the Untitled series takes a more distilled approach, focusing on symmetry and uprightness to refine these forms. To further distance the Untitled works from a direct reference to the body, I intentionally selected colors that resist figuration.

To express the relationships between different bodily parts, I combined opaque and transparent materials. Cement was used for opacity, while glass was chosen for transparency, with the forms created through casting processes. Glass, in particular, can be melted in the kiln and reshaped with precision, allowing me to construct controlled forms. This material process reflects the way I analyze and reinterpret the body, resulting in forms that move beyond representation and toward my own formal language.

I explore the human body by dividing it into its “exterior” and “interior,” becoming deeply interested in how a rigid outer structure contains a soft, pliable core. I understand the exterior as hard, geometric, and controlled, while the interior is organic, fluid, and unpredictable. These opposing qualities coexist in a fragile yet symbiotic relationship.

This duality is central to my Anima-in anima series. In these works, I juxtapose materials that embody these contrasting conditions: glass bottles and acrylic boxes suggest the body’s structured exterior, while sponges, scouring pads, stockings, cotton, soundproof panels, bubble wrap, aqua sticks, and corrugated tubes evoke a yielding, visceral interior.

In We Are Living in a Room, I approach the human body through the lens of its “exterior” and “interior,” becoming increasingly interested in how a rigid outer structure contains and supports a soft, pliable interior. I understand the exterior as hard, geometric, and structured, while the interior is organic, fluid, and unpredictable. These contrasting conditions exist in a delicate, symbiotic balance.

This duality forms the core of the series. I juxtapose materials that embody these opposing qualities: glass bottles and acrylic boxes suggest the body’s structured exterior, while sponges, scouring pads, stockings, cotton, soundproof panels, bubble wrap, aqua sticks, and corrugated tubes evoke a yielding, visceral interior.

While exploring the totemic qualities of the human body, I was drawn to Jeongseung figures commonly found in villages during the Joseon Dynasty. What interested me was how these figures, through the representation of a specific face and their upright presence in the ground, generate a strong totemic force.

In this series, I attempted to assign symbolic meaning to my own face by reshaping it into multiple forms and placing it onto clay walls and clay ground. Through this gesture, the face shifts from a personal feature to a constructed symbol, reinforcing its totemic presence within the space.

Through Note 1 and Note 2, I bring together bodily fragments, personal interpretations of the body, and an analysis of the traces left upon it. Using Legos, I experiment with shaping different bodily postures, while photographic images are used to examine the body’s fragility and vulnerability.

I also incorporate objects from my childhood and everyday life—such as my own teeth and pieces of chewed gum—embedding intimate, lived traces into the works. These varied approaches to the body intersect and overlap, revealing unexpected connections between form, memory, and material. Through this series, I seek to arrive at a renewed understanding of the human body.

Change begins with an interest in how the body instinctively assigns meaning and function to sculptural forms. The work resembles something familiar—a platform, a seat, a functional object—yet it consistently refuses use. What initially appears stable and supportive becomes ambiguous, holding the body in a state of hesitation.

Rather than offering clarity or resolution, the sculpture maintains a condition of suspension—between expectation and denial, utility and obstruction. Its repeated protrusions suggest bodily pressure and accumulation, while the elevated pallet-like base references systems of transport, storage, and institutional handling. These associations remain unsettled, never fully aligning with the viewer’s bodily expectations.

Within this space of refusal, meaning is not explained but sensed. The work invites a heightened bodily awareness shaped by uncertainty, where ambiguity functions as an active site of perception rather than a problem to be resolved.

In my practice, the body is not a fixed form but a site of continual inscription—an entity that writes and erases itself as it moves through space. I approach the body through its morphology: uprightness, symmetry, weight, and inevitable fragility. What draws me most, however, are the traces that emerge not from dramatic gestures, but from quiet, repeated contact between body and surface.

This work extends that inquiry by placing my body in direct contact with steel, a material chosen for its coldness, permanence, and resistance. Walking barefoot across the metal with water on my feet becomes a simple action that produces a complex record. Each step lands, presses, evaporates, and disappears, leaving only a temporary darkened imprint before fading. The surface remembers—but only briefly.

Within this cycle of appearance and disappearance, the body becomes both agent and residue, marking the surface while being shaped by it in return. The work holds tension between the durability of steel and the fleeting vulnerability of the wet footprint. What remains visible is never the body itself, but its afterimage—a momentary wake that lingers between presence and loss.

By foregrounding this ephemeral trace, the piece asks how bodies occupy space, how they are registered, and how they are forgotten. Walking becomes a quiet form of inscription, suggesting that existence is often recorded not through dramatic presence, but through small, vanishing gestures that nonetheless insist: I was here.