Counting Shadows Blackens My Fingertips
As I have experienced the deaths of multiple family members, I have become acutely aware of the fragility of life. This awareness led me to ponder the structure of the physical world, as seen through the lens of the mind and observations of the self and spiritual relations. Through this contemplation, I have come to see the paradoxical way in which the absence of life can be transformed into a sense of presence.
Motivated by this realization, I set out to capture the ubiquitous coexistence of temporariness and mystery, in a place that is both familiar and alien. I explored the origin of this phenomenon by interplaying images of raw nature and myself, seeking to understand the ambiguous boundary between consciousness and the beyond.
My journey began in a small, rural village in Korea, where the scorched field's ashes mixed with each droplet of rain, and gusts of winter wind snatched at withered reeds. I stumbled upon the remains of an animal, whose death had left a stark white mark. The sounds of crows hovering suggested that they too had witnessed the event and had come for the body. It was right after another funeral, and the stark juxtaposition of these events left a lasting impression on me.
As my journey continued, dawn walks in the woods after meditation became a ritual. I was struck by the way the previous night's frost crystallized the landscape, transforming the quiet mountains into a spiritual space with the sudden atmospheric transition. Each step was a sensory overload, and I felt overwhelmed by the strange absence of life. Yet, this very absence brought forth a vivid memory of what had existed in this place and the intense presence it once held.
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