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* À§ ±ÛÀº '°ø°£'Áö 1995³â 4¿ùÈ£¿¡ °ÔÀçµÈ °ÍÀÓ.
 
 
Expecting a new birth
 
  Art should be pleasant, for it becomes pure only when he is pleasant. Something pure creates something new, which, in turn, gives pleasure to the creator and the viewer. Purity, when the creator's life does not contradict his expression, becomes a genuine purity. In this sense, I think I'm not truthful. My expression is no longer pure and my life is not pleasant, either. So when life seems to be pleasant, expression becomes awkward. When expression looks new, life becomes boring. As a result, my work place turns into a dreadful space. The sun light filters into the room and, then, my darkness is no longer the philosophical beauty of dreaded darkness itself so I exist as myself. When this combined with my life, to express my life is to escape from the darkness. Darkness leads to a new birth. Isn't there any one afraid of art? I am now drawing something untrue.
 I am not conscious of how much my liberty has been restricted. But I always feel  the longing for freedom stir within me. the more I long for freedom, the shallower my life becomes. Is this some kind of limit which results from the attempt to break consciousness from emotion? Whenever I I try to combine the consciousness of ¡¸Drawing¡¹ with the behavior of ¡¸Drawing¡¹, I feel I am faced with a wall which cannot overcome. Is the understanding and longing necessary? When the consciousness coincides with behavior and life with expression, Will my closed window be opened again?
 I do not believe in myself, because my mind changes so easily, works very selfishly and, sometimes, dreams absurd dreams. My sensitivity and emotion are too shaky. They are moved by a minimum impetus. When something is shown to me, my mind is quicker than my brain to respond to it. in other words, my mental condition changes the expression of the object influences my brain. So it is not a comedian on TV for myself but not for others. I cannot make them laugh. I have become a writer for myself but not for others. Neither can I move them nor let them understand me.
 My interest in human beings confuses me and my work. Is that because reason is added to the natural emotion, or because reason is added to the natural emotion, or because some kind of desire is added to my work? My interest in human beings means that in myself. I reflect on my own ego, trying to see what is felt. I am also trying to draw the primitive power of life which generates something new and pure, expecting a new birth
* The illustration discribed above was published in 'SPACE', April, 1995.

 
 
 



 

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