In Broken Vessels

I create vessels with a singular intention – to shatter them. Yet, if my artistry stopped at this destructive performance, it would be a futile endeavor. Instead, I painstakingly gather each fragmented shard, reassembling them one by one. Thus, these peculiar, once-broken vessels, bearing the scars, unhealed voids, and delicate scratches, become mirrors reflecting our shared journey, one marked by wounds and resilience.

Approaching three decades in this pursuit, I find solace in the intricate puzzle of reuniting shattered pieces. Still, the act of breaking my own work becomes increasingly arduous. Is it the hands of time tightening their grip, or have my skills unwittingly created ceramics too robust to break? The irony of my vocation deepens with each passing day. Unconsciously, I forge sturdier, less brittle ceramics, only to suffer in the act of shattering them.

What compelled me to leave the stability of my homeland in Korea and embrace a retired life in the United States, devoid of grand titles or ambitions? Upon reflection, the paramount reason emerges – the need to fracture the ossified aspects within. It resembles the primal call that urged Abraham to depart from the land of his roots. Not driven by a quest for a better existence, but rather a gentle day-by-day pacification, leading to the inevitable moment when the vessel, preordained to shatter, crumbles into myriad fragments.

Hence, the shattered vessels I create do not unveil picturesque or conclusive conclusions. Even in their broken state, they are reassembled, meticulously mended, and continue to exist as unique vessels, bearing the essence of life, ever urgent and profound.

Dedicated to every broken vessels in the world.

Broken

‘BROKEN’ is the first concept I started and the basis of all my work. ‘BROKEN POTTERY’, ‘AFTER BROKEN’, ‘IN THE WILDERNESS’… also are keywords derived from this.

Broken Pottery

Whether it is made of coarse or old or worn, and whether there are cracks, it can hold anything the user wants to put. The broken vessel is strikingly similar to our spiritual pursuits. The bowl really resembles a man. We are all broken potteries.

After Broken

Is there anyone who is not afraid of breaking? We hope that the things we cherish will not break, but in very brief moments of slipping or missing, they break. Weaving, tying, and gluing back cracks are sometimes take too much time and seem not as good as giving up. But most of the time it’s the only way. Broken things can be woven with pretty colorful threads, and keep the original ones, it’s my belief.

Widow’s Bottle

‘WIDOW’s VESSEL’ began with the Old Testament story of Zarephath widow’s oil bottle.

“Go at once to Zarephath of Sidon and stay there. I have commanded a widow in that place to supply you with food.”
So he went to Zarephath. When he came to the town gate, a widow was there gathering sticks. He called to her and asked, “Would you bring me a little water in a jar so I may have a drink?”
As she was going to get it, he called, “And bring me, please, a piece of bread.”
“As surely as the LORD your God lives,” she replied, “I don’t have any bread–only a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a jug. I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it–and die.”
Elijah said to her, “Don’t be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small cake of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your son.
For this is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the LORD gives rain on the land.’ ”
She went away and did as Elijah had told her. So there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family.
For the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the LORD spoken by Elijah.

Chain

My chain is not simple.
In order for the rings to be intertwined and become a chain, they had to be broken. Even if the broken traces remain as scars, I wish it doesn’t look painful. And also I wish my chains, full of joyful scars, keep getting longer and higher.

Cross

The Cross is the heaviest thing in my inner room. It is too heavy that it sometimes goes into the floor and finally falls into the deep and dark space in which one cannot imagine easily. However, this cross sometimes becomes the lightest thing. It flies all over the place without any difficulties while being soft and cushiony. It even becomes so bright that I can clearly
see through it.
The Cross means the punishment and prize; the perfect ideal and the unwanted fear; the work I can just simply do right now and the work that I have to risk my life; the tear coming from the desperate heart and the tear coming from a big laugh.
I wanted to pretend I didn’t know, but I couldn’t so I thought that I would not know in the first place. Then, I get surprised,  my creation of the Cross looks like me, and you.

In The Wilderness

These series represent tempered growth of life and the painful process through dried and rough property of mediums from ceramic, wood, and fabric. This is not a splendid “completion”, but exposure insufficiency even though dried, cracked, and rustling. Its purpose is to cheer every imperfect life which is struggling for one step of growth.

These works represent many struggles that are trying to overcome difficulties for their own value in rough life like wilderness. Each object is people of the wilderness, and they are sometimes painful, trying to accept changes, healed by exposing the wounds, and dance with joy.