Fragment No. 96

I am an artist currently based in Jeju, the southernmost island of South Korea, where I focus on my photographic work. Through photography, I have come to live the life of a voluntary migrant, moving my living spaces to follow my subjects. Beginning with Tokyo, Japan, where I first started studying photography, I went on to study and work in New York, complete a residency in Iceland, and eventually relocate to Jeju. The reason for my move to Jeju was to pursue a project centered on the ecology and historical significance of a forest called the "Gotjawal." This way of living—relocating to wherever the theme of my project takes me—makes me feel as though I am charting my own unique map under the grand roof of "photography." Furthermore, the different spaces that unfold as I follow different subjects, along with the distinct encounters and vicissitudes of life that occur within those spaces, feel much like the process of weaving a fabric using threads of entirely different colors and textures.

That was precisely how I felt when I received the 96th piece of the Dragon Carpet. I imagine how 100 carpet pieces, each born from a different space and a different artist's idea, are creating a new form of diversity—and how the single, new scene created when all these diverse pieces come together will ultimately pave the way for a new map born of diversity and harmony. For the 96th piece that I received, I wanted to place it upon the soil and among the bushes of the Gotjawal forest—the stage of my project—so that it could bask in the sunlight pouring down into the woods. The colors of the threads woven into the Dragon Carpet resembled the very colors I have encountered in nature. I wanted to place the carpet, with its nature-mimicking threads—the brown of the earth, the green of the leaves, the golden hue of the light, and the deep blue of the darkness—upon those actual colors of nature, allowing them to be blanketed together by light and shadow.

Jeju's Gotjawal is an ancient, 10,000-year-old forest formed during the creation of this volcanic island. Because it is a volcanic terrain, the soil is shallow, preventing trees from striking their roots deep into the ground; instead, they possess a unique form, spreading their roots wide across the surface or piercing through the rocks. To adapt to this unique environment, the roots, trunks, and branches have grown intertwined and tangled together. To me, the resilience they have shown by surviving in such an idiosyncratic form reflects the very lives of the people of Jeju Island, who have endured within a barren environment. The new structure chosen by the forest for survival looked like a single scene woven slowly over an immense span of time. I felt that the physical properties of the Dragon Carpet shared the same essence as the forest, and thus, by installing the carpet as an object within the forest, I composed a single, unified scene.

The daily life of Jeju Island in the south of Korea consists mainly of stone walls and camellia flowers made of basalt.