Attachment Object 5. 2023. pencil on paper. 23 x 23 cm
Attachment Object 2. 2023. pencil on paper 48 x 33.4 cm
Attachment Object 7. 2023. pencil on paper . 30.6 x 37.2 cm
Attachment Object 1. 2023. pencil on paper 10.6 x 65 cm
Attachment Object 4. 2023. pencil on paper . 30.6 x 37.2 cm
Attachment Object 6. 2023. pencil on paper 12.3 x 48.9 cm
Attachment Object 3 . 2023. pencil on paper. 65 x 37.6 cm
Attachment Object from < 休み 展 : 쉼 > 2023
Everyone has something they feel deeply attached to. For many, this begins in childhood, often directed toward a toy, a blanket, your parent’s valuables, or some other object that offers comfort and familiarity. In my case, that object was a specific item of clothing: my mother’s pink pants.
Attachment is often seen as a childhood phenomenon, something you’re expected to outgrow. But I believe it lingers, evolving over the years. I began this work by thinking about that in-between space: the soft maternal quality of cloth, worn down by repeated washing, thinned and frayed by time, and yet never quite discarded. There’s no clear definition for that kind of relationship.
It’s not just about nostalgia or sentimentality. It is more about the stubborn presence of a thing you cannot let go of, because it once made you feel safe, loved, or whole, no longer “hers” but “yours.”
This work explores the invisible, yet potent, threads that tie us to these kinds of objects — the unspoken emotional landscapes that are etched into their fibers.
I wanted to reflect on how such simple materials can hold the weight of so many complex emotions.