Tomorrow Will Be Sunny, or Not.
This exhibition title comes from a phrase I’ve loved for a long time—something like a joke, a little cynical but oddly comforting. The sun rises every day, but sometimes it’s hidden by clouds. Spring arrives, but it often brings fine dust with it. Expectations often miss reality, and life rarely goes according to plan. Even derailed plans eventually pass. That’s why it’s important not to fall into despair, even if tomorrow isn’t sunny. If it rains on a picnic day, just stay home and have some jeon with a glass of makgeolli. When it rains, let it rain. When the wind blows, let it blow. Sometimes seriously, sometimes playfully—that’s how I draw stories that lie somewhere in between.
My paintings don’t carry grand messages. They might feel like diary entries, half-written essays, or scenes suspended between fantasy and memory. Maybe they’re just offhand jokes. A cup of tea, a shot of liquor, a puff of smoke, a single flower in an empty bottle—those small things right in front of me. If we can’t predict everything anyway, maybe it’s not so bad to just notice the little things. Perhaps these small stories help us see life with a little more ease. That’s what I try to draw. It might rain. It might be sunny. Or it might be somewhere in between. What matters is that I keep drawing, keep doodling, and keep stacking up the things I love. Because if I keep muddling through, even a cloudy sky might turn out to be a good day.
I chose the wrong exhibition title— it poured rain on opening day.
The catering the gallery prepared for the opening was perfect— it was a work of art in itself.
Live drawing for those who came to the opening.
