On Witnessing & Reflection

As a Reflector—one who mirrors and samples the environment—my practice
doesn't claim ownership of these stories; rather, it witnesses them.
I hold space for the collective processing of transnational migration's impact,
recognizing that my own experience is inseparable from systemic structures
of empire, war, and cultural erasure.

The work requires lunar time.
I don't force rapid production but allow pieces to emerge through accumulated daily practices: tea rituals extending across months, fasting sessions that quiet conscious control, burnishing that numbers in the hundreds.
This temporal approach honors Indigenous and Korean concepts of time as cyclical
rather than linear, healing as generational rather than individual.

Materials become collaborators.
Hair knows things the mind doesn't. Shells hold ocean memory.
Beeswax preserves what paper alone cannot.
By working with substances that carry biological and elemental intelligence,
the work accesses knowledge beyond trauma narratives—knowledge of survival, adaptation, and the body's insistence on continuing despite fracture.

I am not trying to answer questions.
I am trying to hold them well enough that others can approach them differently.