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Again to my neighborhood, to my home, and again to my room


“…to someone from nowhere, every movement turns into a return…” (Tokarczuk, Olga, Flights). 

One might say that people move because they want to be supported somewhere. It might be an intended, a physical movement from one place to another, or it might be an unintended movement, one that leaves from somewhere and arrives at another.


Last year, for the first time in four years, I passed through Seoul from Berlin, taking notice of the different landscapes, languages, climates, cultures, and time difference between the two cities. I was confused by the ambivalence of my emotions, how everything that was familiar in one place felt completely different in another. As I walked through the alleys of Berlin and then Seoul, I felt that the two cities were continuously connected to one other. At the same time the feeling of standing at the border between the two made me nervous, as if I were staggering between the gaps. Passing through the cities and realizing that I should settle down somewhere, I wondered if I have been circling around the origin, moving from the outside to the inside and then back away from the inside. I also wondered if my confusing mind, one that constantly pursues change, is floating around, haunted.


We begin all our journeys from home and then return to there with hope in the end. It is a place that contains the stories and time of my life, as well as a place to live. It is also a space that continues endlessly from one side to another. Leaving, returning, and staying, through all these times, we give ourselves the strength to move forward and to leave something behind.


This collection was created during the second half of 2021 after my visit to Seoul, Korea, in the hopes of drawing strength from my life that is constantly moving. Rather than pursuing unity under one single method or concept, I focused on every single moment of creation. During my stay in Seoul, I wandered around in the city’s small alleys capturing images. Organizing the photos from Seoul and others that I have collected while taking long walks through the streets of Berlin, I was able to see how fascinated I was with damaged, abandoned things. I thought about what this means and questioned why I am attracted to such things. My thinking led to collecting and connecting scraps, small things of discard, to discover new meaning in that which already exists.


I started with small elements, expanding them by dyeing leftover fabric used after working with materials collected from nature or by attaching sample swatches that would otherwise be discarded. In addition to the main method, I used patterns discovered accidently while attaching little things through the creation of irregular stitches on the small pieces of fabric.


The work of connecting the pieces that were cut out and thrown away, in addition to the fabric made with layers during this process, has revealed many possibilities to me.

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