art
as my
outlet
I was 8 months old when I arrived in the U.S. I was born in South Korea, but raised in Upstate New York. I always knew that I was adopted, but I never understood what that actually meant. The questions began in elementary school. I didn’t think there was anything different about me until my classmates began to scrutinize my appearance and questioned why I didn’t resemble my parents. It didn’t feel like it was coming from a place of genuine curiosity, but rather “why are you not like us?” I grew painfully aware that I was indeed different, so I simply did not discuss my adoption with anyone. I was terrified of being rejected and alone, so it didn’t take too long for me to conform and pretend to be someone I was not in a desperate attempt to keep my true self hidden. I thought I was protecting myself by doing this, but in reality, I was actually erasing my authentic self all for the sake of fitting in. More than anything, I just wanted to feel like I belonged.
In order to release these built up and complex emotions I was feeling, I always turned to art. The moment I began to use art as an outlet, I became strong enough to face my inner demons and have the courage to be myself despite what anyone thought. Making art was my way of having a shoulder to cry on during a time of loss, confusion or sadness. For me, it was and still is the only way that I can truly heal. My art allows me to escape reality, but yet at the same time, encourages me to face the parts of my life I've been trying to erase for so long. After years of hiding and self-destruction, I’ve decided to stop running and to embrace that this is who I really am. I may be an adoptee, but that doesn’t make me unworthy because I have found people who have accepted me. Furthermore, I’ve seen that my art has the ability to reach people and make those who have similar stories as me no longer feel lonely. My hope is to inspire others and to convey the importance of embracing your individuality.
found
yet
lost
portrait studies
watercolor
earlier Work
mixed media
until we
meet again
A clock that can never slow down, but does not reveal its time symbolizes my internal struggle to let go of a painful past. In a time-based piece, I grieve, reflect and honor four important women who have made an impact in my life: my birth Mother, foster mothers, and my adoptive Mom. I was only 21 years old when my Mom passed away. I was at an age where I needed my Mother's guidance more than ever. I was constantly told that time would heal everything and that eventually, I would find happiness again. Six years have gone by and I can still recall that very same pain. Thinking about my Mom fills my heart with so much joy yet also brings me so much heartache and emptiness as we are now apart. After years of carrying this sorrow, I've learned that we don't actually heal over time as our loved ones are irreplaceable. Instead, we grow numb and we have to learn how to survive and persevere through dark times.
