Incubation
Mostly, my ideas and materials came from my closet where countless boxes live. I open the closet doors. I grab a flashlight and flash it toward boxes. Labeled boxes are stacked neatly against the wall. I start reading labels on each box. Sooner or later, I realize my labeling system is ineffective to navigate what is inside. I always enjoy the moment of not knowing. The state of not knowing or engaging with the unknown is an important aspect of my creative process. I randomly pick up a box and dig into it. There is variety of things triggers to my memory; old photos, things I bought when I just moved to the United States and things I always hold on to, but need to throw away. Once I find a material that makes me fully immersed in a flurry of vivid memories, I go down to my desk. Turn on the light.
Every idea comes after several pages of sketches. Then, I move my step into the crazy maze of writing. First a right turn, Korean, and then a left, English. I find myself at a dead-end. Back track my steps and begin again. Twists and turns constantly leading my path, round and round in circles. Trying to find the right way. Some make it out but I am still fighting to find the right way in this maze. After I find the way out from the maze, finally, every concept was carefully thought out, a perfectly planned construction. After reflecting on the writing the work begins. Gifts My grandmother’s greatest love was gardening. …show more content…
She spent all day in her beloved garden, which took up the entire front and back yard. A garden of the heart; she plants all the good things. I was young, she would include me in her gardening chores by handing me her blue bucket of tools or red watering can. She’d hand me a scissor and ask me to go outside to pick a bouquet of flowers for her. Any flowers I wanted. That was such an exciting feeling for me, to choose which flowers I wanted with no rules, no ‘Oh Sweetie – not those’. No matter what I picked, or how odd my choices might have been, she ties those flowers with white plastic cable tie. Those flowers stayed as I arrange in a vase the entire time. My grandmother used cable tie almost everywhere. She used it to tie plant to a support, to hang her gardening tools on the rack, to tie my hair up, to make little dolls, and so much more. I did not even know what is this thing really used for or called, but I loved watching how she uses cable ties. I was there with her everyday and count the zip sound as the pawl rides the slope of teeth. That was my everyday life. My grandmother passed away right before I left to the United States. The most wonderful memory with her would be countless days and years in her garden. I miss the days I found her beyond the zip sound of cable ties. Her garden was silent. It was not until that time that I realize she is not there anymore. A day before departure, I seated on a large and flat rock, where I used to use as my playhouse. I started to fasten cable ties. I did not think about what I am doing, but heard the sound. That sound to me was the only thing I can feel and mimic my grandmother. After I fasten all ties
Mostly, my ideas and materials came from my closet where countless boxes live. I open the closet doors. I grab a flashlight and flash it toward boxes. Labeled boxes are stacked neatly against the wall. I start reading labels on each box. Sooner or later, I realize my labeling system is ineffective to navigate what is inside. I always enjoy the moment of not knowing. The state of not knowing or engaging with the unknown is an important aspect of my creative process. I randomly pick up a box and dig into it. There is variety of things triggers to my memory; old photos, things I bought when I just moved to the United States and things I always hold on to, but need to throw away. Once I find a material that makes me fully immersed in a flurry of vivid memories, I go down to my desk. Turn on the light.
Every idea comes after several pages of sketches. Then, I move my step into the crazy maze of writing. First a right turn, Korean, and then a left, English. I find myself at a dead-end. Back track my steps and begin again. Twists and turns constantly leading my path, round and round in circles. Trying to find the right way. Some make it out but I am still fighting to find the right way in this maze. After I find the way out from the maze, finally, every concept was carefully thought out, a perfectly planned construction. After reflecting on the writing the work begins. Gifts My grandmother’s greatest love was gardening. …show more content…
She spent all day in her beloved garden, which took up the entire front and back yard. A garden of the heart; she plants all the good things. I was young, she would include me in her gardening chores by handing me her blue bucket of tools or red watering can. She’d hand me a scissor and ask me to go outside to pick a bouquet of flowers for her. Any flowers I wanted. That was such an exciting feeling for me, to choose which flowers I wanted with no rules, no ‘Oh Sweetie – not those’. No matter what I picked, or how odd my choices might have been, she ties those flowers with white plastic cable tie. Those flowers stayed as I arrange in a vase the entire time. My grandmother used cable tie almost everywhere. She used it to tie plant to a support, to hang her gardening tools on the rack, to tie my hair up, to make little dolls, and so much more. I did not even know what is this thing really used for or called, but I loved watching how she uses cable ties. I was there with her everyday and count the zip sound as the pawl rides the slope of teeth. That was my everyday life. My grandmother passed away right before I left to the United States. The most wonderful memory with her would be countless days and years in her garden. I miss the days I found her beyond the zip sound of cable ties. Her garden was silent. It was not until that time that I realize she is not there anymore. A day before departure, I seated on a large and flat rock, where I used to use as my playhouse. I started to fasten cable ties. I did not think about what I am doing, but heard the sound. That sound to me was the only thing I can feel and mimic my grandmother. After I fasten all ties