Spiderwebs Between Telephone Poles

In the spring of 2020, I retrived a forgotten memory of my grandmother and I going on early morning walks through the rural gohyang of my mother's childhood home. So early, that infinite dewdrops hung heavily on the spiderwebs delicately woven in between the telephone wires; the first sun rays would light them up like crystals. The concrete poles they were attached to acted as faint guidelines, stretching out for miles in between the rice fields and tobacco farms. When the sun beam hits the hanging dewdrops at the perfect angle, it triggers their twinkling lights— much like dull memories that suddenly shine brightly in our minds. Interconnected to one another by the fragile invisible strings, they begin to take on an awe-inducing structure in our heads. These structures are carefully balanced in between the black telephone wires of our minds— thick ropes that have timelessly delivered our usual expected train of thought. But these delicate webs between those monotonous lines are what inspires us. They are a collection of sentimental connections that exapand infinitely in inexplicable ways, stimulating us to search out for something more that we can hold on to. We are constantly anticipating to create more and more webs in between our own telephone wires until we reach the next telephone pole, and the one after, and so on. Hoping that if we do so, these poles will eventually give us a sense of where our path is headed. 

But when even a single dewdrop becomes too heavy, the delicate web snaps altogether, and the slightest vibrations could trigger the collapse of countless more.

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<The Spiderwebs Between Telephone Poles> was held 6.16. 2021 - 6. 27. 2021 at Choyeon Gallery in Seoul, Korea