I have been consumed by the process of layering acrylic paint onto the absorbent surfaces of unprimed canvas and Hanji. I hold my paintbrushes like I would a pen, and observe writings unfold and articulate existent words in vain. Is it English, Korean, French, Farsi, Chinese, Arabic? How many languages lived and reunited? Keeping up with linguistic memory is so burdensome. My gestures are reminiscent of writing in gibberish as if to surrender myself to the limitations of memory. But my writing is unruly and free; it is an unencumbered thinking and doing.