red oak, ash, and other remnants from burning, 2024
35.5” x 12” x 6”
The first part of my Degree Project.
But I realized objects were not permanent either quite early in my life. I still vividly remember the movers taking apart our big wardrobe that my parents got as a wedding gift, completely destroying it, and throwing it in a big recycling truck. And I was watching this happen on the 8th floor of our apartment building. I think this was one of the most shocking moments in my childhood, and this is when I first realized (quite dramatic, but) that nothing of my material possessions is permanent.
This precarious relationship developed into an exploration of my fear of changes within the home environment and objects. It later evolved into the creation of a personalized ritual, using ritual as a vehicle to become more comfortable with changes and accept the impermanence of all things.
This ritual is essentially about the infinite cycle of creating and destroying. There is no end product. Nothing is gained nor extracted during the process. I burn the paper, collect the ashes, and using the ashes, I draw more on the paper, burn it, and the process repeats itself.
Although this ritual is meant to be performed in one’s room, the choice of burning as a method of destruction also raises a critique of having a lack of access to spaces in modern-day homes for these forms of rituals to happen. Rituals using fire, or a simple meditative act of 불멍 (bul-mung; directly translates to fire-zoning out—the act of mindlessly staring at a source of fire) are so prevalent, but why is it so hard to bring them to our rooms, the most intimate place in our homes? 𓇢