There are times when I feel less like a mediator between artworks and audiences than a simple “middleman” taking cues between different officials. How long have I been developing my artistic standards—my likes, dislikes, and miscellaneous other factors—into a system? Who do I want to speak for, and where do I want to position myself? The art I wish to discuss here is not situated within the establishment, and I do not wish to position myself there either. So what is it that I want from art—and how do I sustain my life apart from that? There may not be any way of separating myself from what I do, but what do I do when it feels like what I’m doing isn’t mine? And what about other people—why do they engage in art? Why do they develop exhibitions and meet with people? Where do we locate the standards for satisfaction with a program? In any event, I have no choice but to make my own decisions and set my own standards within my experience. Just as every new experience poses unexpected questions, there are also past questions that get answered in the process.

–Han Munhee (Amo) (DCW 2025)

In preparing to talk about my curatorial practice to date, I’ve encountered moments when I censor myself along the vague boundaries that exist when it comes to where I can define the scope of “my” practice. Apart from the time and effort I put into it and my feelings of affection and sincerity, there is also part of it that relates to roles and results. What am I really left with once a project is completed? There are things that aren’t truly captured with the project titles and credits that I include in my CV. Something that is only visible once the wrapping has been pulled away over time: relationship, memory, emotion, story, learning and unlearning. There is a force that is always there, something that can’t be grasped, something that torments me yet in the end allows me to keep going for a long time. Because those things exist as a potentia, I decide to embrace and trust in those quiet moments all the more.

–Jihee Jun (DCW 2025)

I’ve often found myself wondering why it is that in spite of all the different stories that appear in my self-introductions—and despite the passage of time they signify—it always feels like my experiences have crumbled away, so that all I see is the space where a now-evaporated memory once was. When the three participants in the seminar were talking about the paths they had each traveled, the moments that lingered the longest in everyone’s minds weren’t matters of certain themes or certain artists they worked with. They were the unfamiliar voices perceived in brief moments of encountering nature; opportunities for intensive dialogue created by people reading and puzzling together; and questions that remained unresolved, leaving us resolved to tackle them “after this.” What answer can I leave in those empty lines in between the various question marks that trickle out from among those unresolved questions? Are they all question marks, or are some of them periods?

–Soojeong Park (DCW 2025)