Adopters of pet birds often clip the outermost feathers of their wings when taming them. Birds with limited flying ability become dependent on their owners, leading to a bond between them. Trimming the wings also serves to protect the bird from various disasters and risks associated with living together. Therefore, this imagery embodies the uncertainty of love. Scenes of covering the bird's eyes and damaging its wings contain nothing but the chilling act of clipping.
Scissoring. This is what I contemplate most deeply.
Love throws infinite questions about the 'two' into the uncertainty of assurance and doubt. I continue to scissor the 'two'. It began from the first performance where I screened myself with a camcorder, embodying the discord and reconciliation of the inherited mother-daughter relationship. The story of the uncommunicative young lovers and the island turned into the tomb of revolutionaries ('Che( ) Island, 2017'), asymmetrical decalcomania (('Reborn, 2018', 'Thorn, 2019')), brilliant cutting of a fifty-eight-faceted diamond and rewriting love letters ('Correction, 2020'). I have thus repeated the 'hesitant continuation' through numerous words and writings, moving images, and physical debris.
Text and image always inherently disagree, and the narrative born from this discord becomes their only reconciliation. Like a waltz where meaning and sensation dance together in an irregular rhythm, there lies an ambiguous and faint story. A story that casually bypasses the predetermined ending. A story that becomes more unknown as it is explained. The world's most famous secret. Stories that carefully unfold all the wounds of the sutured world, leading to the alien ('Dance!, 2020'). Hence, what I create resembles an alternative narrative akin to a ghost wandering somewhere between anti-literature/pseudo-cinema/non-fine art. This ghost has a name. It may be long and not easily memorable with an even number of syllables, but it is most likely a very specific and beautiful name.