When I say “my body,” what does it mean?

In my creative process, I return my focus to the body. For me, the body here has two layers: first, the bodily sensations I experience while creating; and second, the image of bodily sensation that emerges within the work itself.

The body in motion during the act of making seems to be mine, yet also strangely unfamiliar. At that moment, I have already placed intention and thought in the background, allowing myself to act through an almost intuitive impulse. For me, this is an inward movement. When the work is finally presented before the viewer, certain recognizable and familiar images of sensation gradually begin to surface. The rise of a sense of strangeness or uncanniness echoes the way we perceive and understand our own bodies. For me, this becomes an outward movement.

The body, as a vessel that carries intention, has long remained hidden in the background—an existence so habitual that it is often taken for granted. In my work, I bring it back to the foreground and gaze at it closely. The method I employ in my practice is to create an emotional challenge for the viewer: horror, fear, astonishment, unease, doubt, and other affective responses. I believe that when the nervous system is provoked, the body, which has long occupied a passive position, is also summoned back.

 

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