Artist statement:
I explore the paradox of perceived reality verses objective reality in my artworks; more specifically, I question the reality of the ‘human condition’ (of our impending mortality) in lenses of Physics and Philosophy. We know, from the Theory of Relativity, that time flows relatively in respect to gravitational pull and the distance of the subject relative to it. For one, did you know that ‘time’, in its distinguished form, past, present and the future, is only discernible because of the existence of heat? We also know that time for the elders pass more ‘quickly’ due to the changed cerebral perception: the brain perceives less ‘images’ (information) as we age. What does it mean to be born, live and die in our short lifetimes? I use a diverse set of materials and themes to contradict ‘classical’ elements in my art to its post-modern derivatives to represent the passage of time.
Since then, the question of what I could do for them never left my thoughts. At first, I dreamed of joining the military with my brother, fighting side by side. To that end, I trained diligently in taekwondo, earning a Poom (black belt equivalent for children under fifteen) when I was twelve. However, as I grew into adolescence, the idea of punching all the bad guys away seemed increasingly less plausible. With a growing awareness of my parent’s financial troubles, I also understood that my family had just enough for ourselves, much less come to the aid of others.
For what reason did the North Koreans suffer? For being born in the wrong country, of the wrong parents? Was it better to not be born at all?
Fortunately for my brother and me, my parents, wanting to give us a chance for a better life, took a leap of faith and immigrated to the US. Having left Korea, I was now afforded a new perspective due to the physical distance. The most striking was the diversity of the people in the US, who, in contrast to largely monoethnic South Korea, were of different colors, painting a beautiful picture of a free democratic country, all extraordinary in their differing cultures and struggles.
It has been my experience growing up in an Asian culture that societal norms dictate people’s livelihood to the point where individuality is considered a flaw in someone’s character. There’s even a saying reflecting this sentiment: ‘a nail that sticks out gets hammered.’ In contrast, in the US, individuality is encouraged where, sometimes, the vision of the common good is blurred. However, the same individualistic culture is why it attracts immigrants, many with great ingenuity and ambition, to make something of themselves.
I met people who, like me, witnessed many injustices in the world: refugees from oppressive regimes, immigrants, or the less privileged people of color in poor neighborhoods. Many, just like my parents, were struggling to fight for freedom, for their families. I realized that there was a place for me here; there was a better future for me, and hope for North Koreans who can’t be with me. Despite the odds stacked against people, individuals in their communities can work to change the world.
With new conviction, I hold on dearly to my early memories of witnessing the devastation of North Korea. Now, I view it other than through the lens of a telescope, one framed by the people's struggles, whose collective efforts can work towards a kinder world, reaching even where the light can’t seem to reach.
About me: My family has a ‘bit’ of history with North Korea, to put lightly. Half of my relatives are in North Korea, separated by the border. My paternal grandfather was a captain in the HID (Headquarters in Intelligence Detachment), a South Korean special military force, working to infiltrate the North Korean government. His burial is in Hyun Choong Won, a veteran's honorable resting place. Following in his footsteps, my younger brother will be conscripted into the Korean military in a few years like most young men in South Korea.
I grew up in a country still divided in the aftermath of the Cold War near the borders of the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), ironically one of the most heavily militarized areas in the world. News of bloodshed and human rights violations were frequent and my neighborhood was filled with unspoken tension amidst the ubiquitous military patrols in the vicinity. On some weekends, my family would take a drive to Odusan Unification Tower, a nearby mountain observatory. With 500-Won coins in hand, I would run up to the rows of telescopes, inserting the coins to look at the other side of the border: North Korea.
I still have a vivid memory of the first time I looked through the telescope: barren, devoid of life except for occasional patches of weed and worn-down structures that could barely pass for houses. Compared to the cosmopolitan glamor of Seoul, the desolation of the views through the telescope confused me. I turned to my father for answers, only to find him deep in prayer.
Viewed from space, North Korea is one of the darkest countries at night due to its severe underdevelopment and lack of electricity. After spending some time searching for any sign of civilization, I realized that all that was left of the people — Koreans who looked like me and spoke the same language as I did — was abject poverty, reflected in their lives with less than the bare necessity to feed themselves.
What does ‘art’ mean to you?
I was a forgetful child, not remembering my schedules, homework, or possessions. Everyday, I was sure to lose an eraser, pencil, or an entire backpack. To compensate, I developed the habit of drawing the rooms I was in, the people I was with, and the days I spent to make it easier to keep track of everything.
I enrolled in my first art class at the age of three and spent my childhood mastering the patience needed to complete my art pieces. I was a calm child, always preferring peace and quiet over excitement of the new world, new stimuli overwhelmed me. I spent most of my time making sense of the world around me by drawing: art was my way of seeing.
To this day, my mom keeps a full binder of messy doodles I made in early childhood for her. My father would hang up dozens of my ‘masterpieces’ on his office wall, always bragging to his colleagues about drawings I made for him. It meant the world having the support of my parents. I became proud of my art, sharing it with others. After emigrating to the US, I became even more attached to my sketchbooks; I would skim through them to reminisce about my life in South Korea.
The language barrier and social isolation due to the move turned drawing from a habit into an obsession when I was nine. During breaks at school when teachers would bring the class to the school gardens, I sat on a bench alone, drawing the silhouettes of familiar figures in my life, pretending they sat beside me. At first, it was a distraction from loneliness; however, as I began to find comfort in my new home, drawing became my way of communicating happiness to other people.
My art skills and style have evolved alongside my slowly developing sense of self, reflecting my emotion and situation. Art is irreplaceable to me; I’m alive with a sense of unexplained wonder and gratitude with every stroke of my brush, the weight of charcoal, and the texture of the canvas. Happiness means capturing the pretty shade of aquamarine in the morning sky or the satisfying sound of paint, lingering in my otherwise silent room. When I paint, I am filled with peace even in the most trying times, as my vision unfolds on the canvas.
email: choiceclaire24@gmail.com
Inspiration from Physics:
I grew up in a religious household, attending church every Sunday. With further science education, though, I realized biblical texts simply don't align with the modern views of science. I delved into theological texts in order to find an argument to convince myself of the existence of God, finding the teleological argument; it states the universe must have a creator because universal constants are ‘fine tuned’ to allow life to exist. And, indeed, if one constant is slightly altered, life wouldn’t exist.
Even though it's convincing, I couldn’t disregard its unsubstantiated fallacies. It assumes that there are only two possibilities for the complex ‘design’ of the universe. Also, this argument is made in the absence of data. However, claiming all the universe’s ‘design’ is by chance seemed unreasonable. That was until I was introduced to string theory, wherein different universes could have different laws of Physics, suggesting that this is just one universe that has ‘life.’
I’ve always dwelled on the theoreticals, bringing me to the central dogma of quantum physics: the question of what makes one thing happen out of two equally viable possibilities. As a relatively new discipline, many speculations exist, some more viable than others. Amidst all the uncertainties, this is for certain: Quantum Physics is significant, theoretical or in application.
Famously, Schrodinger’s cat is at the heart of the discipline. Suppose a cat is inside an unobservable box with 50% chance of a deadly subatomic event. The cat is considered both dead and alive, being given a concrete state when the box is opened. It successfully describes the paradox of the double slit experiment: unobserved spectrum of light particles exhibiting an interference pattern suggesting its characteristics as a wave. However, when measured, only two corresponding slits appeared, characteristics of a matter. Only when the said particle is observed, changes something in a thermodynamically irreversible way, is there a definitive state.
A popular interpretation of other possibilities is that ‘reality’ splits into different versions. If true, all hypothesized ‘end’ of universes could be true simultaneously. That led me to many questions: is the cycle of the universe preserved because of the quantum possibilities? Are there possibilities due to quantum mechanics where the ‘big bounce’ happens and the universe starts over and over and over?
However, it’s all speculation. No one has yet entered a parallel universe to confirm its existence. I’m still uncertain about God. Even if my search didn’t answer my original question, it’s valuable to me for the questions it created, not the questions it answered. Recently, string theory has been disputed by prominent Physicists. Quantum Physics always had its doubters, like Einstein, and it is still uncertain if it’s science or even pseudoscience, in its more hypothetical aspects. Since Quantum Physics is universal in understanding the universe, it intersects with other disciplines such as philosophy and computer science. Whether pondering about existence or developing Quantum computers, I’d love to study the bridges of interdisciplinary understanding for a more complete understanding of the universe.