I memorize the scenery with my fingertips.
I temporarily save in the camera a memory of the scenery that I see, hear, and feel on my skin, but not all the scenery is captured in the photographs.
I dive inside the photo with my fingertips and needles, relying on the slight signs and memories. And I take the memory from my fingertips to the deep part of my body again through the act of embroidery.
The act of Drawing a new line with seeking for the hidden line in the photograph is not creation but the act of pulling up deeply sunk memory.
“arteria” is the Latin word for artery, which is the etymology of the English word “artery” and consists of two words: ar (air) -teria (carrying).
When a photograph that looks as if it is covered with a film or wrapped in fog and looks vague appears with receiving aid of needles and threads, suddenly blood circulated in the photo and began to pulse.
A lot of information and scenery pass by in front of us every day.
It’s so fast that we can’t memorize everything.
Not only does information and memory flow, but I also feel like I’m being swallowed by the wave of the world’s circulation.
In order to resist the wave a little, I take a picture of a part of the event, stare at it over time, and trace the lines and lights in it and superimpose it on my memory.
Thread is a thin lifeline connects the world with me.