Foods that were once vivid surrender to time: a chicken carcass, a shrivelled radish, a browning perilla leaf, a sprouted garlic bulb. Their shrivelling is not decay but testimony — evidence of a life lived at the pace of distraction, use, and the passing of time.
Alongside them sit insignificant kitchen items, familiar to Koreans yet deeply nostalgic for those who have emigrated — things found in "Korean stores." Taken for granted back home, inexpensive and ever-present in Korea, they become cherished once distance makes them scarce and more expensive.
These are not objects of abundance. They are objects of ENOUGH — of a particular thriftiness that carries both practical wisdom and the memory of scarcity. Each object holds its silence like a portrait subject. Used. Familiar. Completely known. Yet foreign.
Edition of 5 - 24in x 24in
Edition of 10 - 6in x 6in
Edition of 10 - 6in x 6in