Artist Statements
I’ve long been intrigued by the idea of “doing one’s best.” It’s an intangible concept, yet we constantly try to transform it into visible actions or outcomes.
But the more I follow that pursuit, the more I reach a sense of futility—a quiet voice that asks, “Is this really what matters?” There’s no fixed standard.
After a cycle of self-assurance and effort, I often find myself back at the beginning, in a state where nothing feels truly resolved.
And within that loop, I encounter images I simply can’t look away from. I tend to stay with scenes where the intent to finish something was left unresolved.
There was once an elderly man who lived in my building, and he used to tie a wooden chair outside with wire, loosely fastened to a pipe.
On a rainy day, I saw the chair leaned against the wall, partially wrapped in a thin sheet of plastic—perhaps to keep the seat dry.
It remained there, blurred in form, quietly keeping its place.
Though it seemed to have fulfilled its function, it still felt like it hadn’t quite arrived anywhere.
I find emotion in these states—in places where something was meant to be completed but wasn’t.
That space is often confusing, nostalgic, and yet it pulls my gaze further instead of letting it rest.
My work begins there: in the space where unfinished intentions settle, and continues as an attempt to return to the emotions left behind.