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monologue3 ์ž‘๊ฐ€๋…ธํŠธ


๋Š˜ ๊ณ์— ๋จธ๋ฌผ๊ณ  ์žˆ์ง€๋งŒ ๊ทธ ์–ด๋А ๊ณณ์—๋„ ์กด์žฌํ•˜์ง€ ์•Š๋Š”

๊ทธ์™€ ํ•จ๊ป˜ ์ง€๋‚ด๋Š” ๋‚˜๋‚ ๋“ค 

ํฌ๋ฏธํ•ด์ง€๊ฑฐ๋‚˜ ๊ฒฐ์ฝ” ์žŠํ˜€์ง€์ง€ ์•Š๊ณ  ์ง€์›Œ์ง€์ง€ ์•Š๋Š” ๊ธฐ์–ต๋“ค 

๊ฐ€๋”์€ ํ”๋“ค๋ฆฌ๊ณ  ์žˆ๋Š” ๋‚˜์˜ ์˜์€ ๊ทธ์˜ ํ˜ผ๊ณผ ๋ฐœ์ž์ทจ๋ฅผ ์ฐพ์•„ ๋‚˜์„ ๋‹ค.


์‚ฌ๋ƒฅ์ด ์ทจ๋ฏธ์˜€๋˜ ๊ทธ๊ฐ€ ๋จผ ๊ธธ ๋– ๋‚˜๋ฉฐ ๋‚ด ๊ฐ€์Šด์— ์•„ํ”„๊ฒŒ ๋ฐ•์•˜๋˜ ๋Œ€๋ชป๋“ค์„ ๊ฐ€์ง€๊ณ  ์—ฌ๊ธฐ ์ˆฒ์†์—์„œ ๊ทธ๋ฆฌ๊ณ  ๊ฐ€์žฅ ์€๋ฐ€ํ•œ ๊ณต๊ฐ„์—์„œ ํ•จ๊ป˜ ๋‚˜๋ˆ„๋Š” ์ด์•ผ๊ธฐ์ด๋‹ค. 

์ˆฒ์€ ๊ตฌ์ฒด์ ์ธ ๊ณต๊ฐ„์ด๋‚˜ ๊ทธ๊ฐ€ ์ฆ๊ธฐ๋˜ ์˜ค๋ธŒ์ œ(๊ทธ์˜ ์ž”์žฌ)๋“ค์„ ํˆฌ๋ช…ํ•œ ์•„ํฌ๋ฆดํŒ ์œ„์— ๊ทธ๋ฆฌ๊ณ  ์ƒˆ๊ฒจ์„œ ๋˜๋Š” 3Dํ”„๋ฆฐํŒ…์„ ํ•˜๊ฑฐ๋‚˜ ์œ ๋ฆฌ๊ณต์˜ˆ๋กœ ๋งŒ๋“ค์–ด์„œ ํฌ๋ฏธํ•ด์ง„ ๊ธฐ์–ต๊ณผ ํ•จ๊ป˜ ๊ตฌ์ถ•ํ•œ ๊ฐ€์ƒ์˜ ๊ณต๊ฐ„์„ ๋งŒ๋“ค์–ด ๊ฐ€๋ฉฐ ๋‚˜๋Š” ์‹ค์ œ๋ณด๋‹ค ๋” ๊ตฌ์ฒด์ ์œผ๋กœ ๊ทธ๋ฅผ ๋А๋ผ๋ฉฐ ํ˜ธํกํ•œ๋‹ค. ์—ฌ๊ธฐ์—์„œ์˜ 

์œ ๋ฆฌ์™€ ์•„ํฌ๋ฆด์ด๋ผ๋Š” ๋งค์ฒด๋Š” ์ด ์ž‘์—…์—์„œ ๋‹จ์ง€ ์žฌ๋ฃŒ๊ฐ€ ์•„๋‹Œ, ์‹œ๊ฐ„๊ณผ ๊ธฐ์–ต์˜ ๋˜ ๋‹ค๋ฅธ ์–ผ๊ตด์ด ๋œ๋‹ค. ์‰ฝ๊ฒŒ ๊นจ์ง€๊ณ , ๋น›์„ ๋จธ๊ธˆ๊ณ , ๊ทธ ๋„ˆ๋จธ๊ฐ€ 

๋น„์ณ ๋ณด์ด๋Š” ์œ ๋ฆฌ ์กฐ๊ฐ๋“ค์€, ๊ทธ์™€ ํ•จ๊ป˜ํ•œ ์‚ถ์˜ ๋‹จํŽธ์ด๋ฉฐ ๋™์‹œ์— ์‚ฌ๋ผ์ง„ ๊ฒƒ๊ณผ์˜ ๋Œ€ํ™”๋ฅผ ์‹œ๋„ํ•˜๋Š” ๋งค๊ฐœ์ฒด์ด๋‹ค. ์—ฌ๊ธฐ์„œ ์ˆฒ ๋˜ํ•œ ๋‹จ์ˆœํ•œ ๋ฐฐ๊ฒฝ์ด ์•„๋‹ˆ๋ผ ๊ธฐํ˜ธ๋“ค์ด ํƒˆ ์˜ํ† ํ™”๋˜์–ด ์žฌ์กฐํ•ฉ๋˜๋Š” ๊ณต๊ฐ„์ด๋‹ค. 


์„ธ์›”์ด ํ๋ฆ„๊ณผ ๋™์‹œ์— ๋‚ด์ ์œผ๋กœ ํ–ฅํ•œ ์ž์•„์— ๋Œ€ํ•œ ์‚ฌ์œ ๊ฐ€ ๊นŠ์–ด๊ฐ€๋ฉฐ ์ง„์ง€ํ•ด์งˆ ์ˆ˜๋ฐ–์— ์—†๋Š” ๋‚˜๋Š” ์ธ๊ฐ„์„ฑ์ด ๋ณธ๋ž˜ ์‹ ์„ฑ๊ณผ ๊ด€๊ณ„๋˜์–ด์žˆ๋‹ค๋Š” 

ํ‚ค๋ฅด์ผ€๊ณ ๋ฅด์˜ ์ธ๊ฐ„๊ด€์— ๊นŠ์€ ๊ณต๊ฐ์œผ๋กœ ์ ˆ๋Œ€์ž์ธ ์‹ ์— ๋Œ€ํ•œ ๊ฒฝ์™ธ๊ฐ์ด ๊นŠ์–ด์กŒ๋‹ค. 

๋‚˜์•ฝํ•œ ์ธ๊ฐ„์ด ์ ˆ๋Œ€์ž์— ๊ทผ์ ‘ํ•˜๊ณ  ์‹ถ์€ ์†Œ๋ง์œผ๋กœ ํ˜น์€ ์˜์ ์ธ ๊ต๊ฐ์„ ์–ป๊ธฐ ์œ„ํ•ด 30~40๋ถ„์„ ํ•œ์ž๋ฆฌ์—์„œ ๊ณ„์† ๋Œ๊ณ  ์žˆ๋Š” ์ˆ˜ํ”ผ์ถค์„ ์ถ”๋˜ 

๋ชจ์Šต์€ ๊ทธ์™€ ์—ฌํ–‰ ์ค‘์— ๊ฐ์ธ๋œ ์ด๋ฏธ์ง€์˜€๋‹ค.  ๊ตญ๋ฆฝ์ค‘์•™๋ฐ•๋ฌผ๊ด€ <์‚ฌ์œ ์˜ ๋ฐฉ >์—์„œ ๋ฐ˜๊ฐ€์‚ฌ์œ ์ƒ์„ ๊ฐ์ƒํ•˜๊ณ  ๋‚œ ํ›„์˜ ๊นŠ์€ ์—ฌ์šด, ๋ช…๋™์„ฑ๋‹น์˜ ์ˆœ๋ก€๊ธธ์— ๋งˆ์ฃผ์นœ ๊น€๋Œ€๊ฑด ์‹ ๋ถ€์˜ ์ดˆ์ƒ์„ ์‘์‹œํ•˜๋˜ ๊ทธ ๋‚  ๊ทธ๋ ‡๊ฒŒ ๊ฐํžˆ ๋ฒ”์ ‘ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์—†๋Š” ์„ฑ์ธ ๊ฐ€๊นŒ์ด ๋‹ค๊ฐ€๊ฐ€๊ณ  ์‹ถ์€ ๋งˆ์Œ๊ณผ ๋‚ด์•ˆ์˜ ๊นŠ์€ ์šธ๋ฆผ๋“ค์„ ๋‚˜์˜ ๋ชธ์„ ์‚ฌ์šฉํ•˜์—ฌ ํ‘œํ˜„ํ•ด ๋ณด์•˜๋‹ค. 

์†์ฃผ๋“ค๊ณผ ํ•จ๊ป˜ ํ•œ ์„ฑ๋ชจ์ž์ƒ๋„ ๊ฐ€์กฑ์ด ํ•จ๊ป˜ ๋‚˜๋ˆˆ ์น˜์œ ์˜ ํ–‰์œ„์ด์ž, 

์ƒ์ฒ˜๋ฐ›์€ ๊ธฐ์–ต์„ ๋‹ค์‹œ ๋น›์œผ๋กœ ๋ฎ๋Š” ์ œ์˜์ด๋‹ค. ํฐ์ƒ‰์€ ์ƒ์‹ค์˜ ์นจ๋ฌต์ด์ž, ํšŒ๋ณต์˜ ์•ฝ์†์ด๋‹ค.


๋•Œ๋กœ๋Š” ์•„ํ”„๊ฒŒ๋„ ํ•˜์˜€์ง€๋งŒ ์‹œ์•„๋ฒ„๋‹˜๊ณผ ์‚ฌ๋ƒฅํ„ฐ์—์„œ์˜ ์‹์‚ฌ, ์žฅ์„ฑํ•œ 

์ž๋…€๋“ค์„ ์ถœ๊ฐ€์‹œํ‚ค๋˜ ์ผ, ์†์ฃผ๋ฅผ ๋ณด์•˜๋˜ ์ผ ๋“ฑ ๊ทธ์™€ ํ•จ๊ป˜ํ•œ ์ง€๋‚œ๋‚ ๋“ค์€ ๋ชจ๋‘ ์•„๋ฆ„๋‹ต๋‹ค.

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monologue3 artist Note


Days spent with someone who is always by my side, yet no longer present anywhere in this world.

Memories that never fade, never vanish — lingering like afterimages deep within my daily life.

At times, my trembling soul sets out to trace his spirit and footsteps.


This work is a dialogue shared in the forest — and in the most intimate of spaces — with the remnants of him, who once loved hunting and, upon his final departure, left painful spikes embedded in my heart.

I draw and engrave the objects he cherished — his traces — onto transparent acrylic panels, or recreate them through 3D printing and glasswork, building an imagined space of fading memories. Through this, I breathe with him again, sensing his presence more vividly than in reality.

Here, the forest is not just a backdrop but a site of deterritorialized symbols, a space where meaning is reassembled.


Though there was pain, all that has passed — sending off our grown children into the world, meeting our grandchildren, 

shared meals in the hunting grounds — has become beautiful in memory.


As time passes, I am inevitably drawn deeper into contemplation of the self. I resonate deeply with Søren Kierkegaard’s view of humanity as essentially linked to divinity. With this comes a growing reverence for the Absolute.

I recall the whirling of the Sufi dancers, endlessly turning in place for 30 to 40 minutes — their yearning to approach the Absolute, 

to find spiritual communion.

I also remember the profound sense of awe I felt in the “Room of Meditation” at the National Museum of Korea, standing before the Pensive Bodhisattva, and the image of Father Kim Dae-geon at Myeongdong Cathedral…

With a desire to draw near to them, I used my own body as a means of expression.


Through these acts, I find consolation — and, perhaps, peace.

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monologue3 ์ž‘๊ฐ€๋…ธํŠธ



๋Š˜ ๊ณ์— ๋จธ๋ฌผ๊ณ  ์žˆ์ง€๋งŒ ๊ทธ ์–ด๋А ๊ณณ์—๋„ ์กด์žฌํ•˜์ง€ ์•Š๋Š” ๊ทธ์™€ ํ•จ๊ป˜ ์ง€๋‚ด๋Š” ๋‚˜๋‚ ๋“ค 

ํฌ๋ฏธํ•ด์ง€๊ฑฐ๋‚˜ ๊ฒฐ์ฝ” ์žŠํ˜€์ง€์ง€ ์•Š๊ณ  ์ง€์›Œ์ง€์ง€ ์•Š๋Š” ๊ธฐ์–ต๋“ค 

๊ฐ€๋”์€ ํ”๋“ค๋ฆฌ๊ณ  ์žˆ๋Š” ๋‚˜์˜ ์˜์€ ๊ทธ์˜ ํ˜ผ๊ณผ ๋ฐœ์ž์ทจ๋ฅผ ์ฐพ์•„ ๋‚˜์„ ๋‹ค.


์‚ฌ๋ƒฅ์ด ์ทจ๋ฏธ์˜€๋˜ ๊ทธ๊ฐ€ ๋จผ ๊ธธ ๋– ๋‚˜๋ฉฐ ๋‚ด ๊ฐ€์Šด์— ์•„ํ”„๊ฒŒ ๋ฐ•์•˜๋˜ ๋Œ€๋ชป๋“ค์„ ๊ฐ€์ง€๊ณ  ์—ฌ๊ธฐ ์ˆฒ์†์—์„œ ๊ทธ๋ฆฌ๊ณ  ๊ฐ€์žฅ ์€๋ฐ€ํ•œ ๊ณต๊ฐ„์—์„œ ํ•จ๊ป˜ ๋‚˜๋ˆ„๋Š” ์ด์•ผ๊ธฐ์ด๋‹ค. 

์ˆฒ์€ ๊ตฌ์ฒด์ ์ธ ๊ณต๊ฐ„์ด๋‚˜ ๊ทธ๊ฐ€ ์ฆ๊ธฐ๋˜ ์˜ค๋ธŒ์ œ(๊ทธ์˜ ์ž”์žฌ)๋“ค์„ ํˆฌ๋ช…ํ•œ ์•„ํฌ๋ฆดํŒ ์œ„์— ๊ทธ๋ฆฌ๊ณ  ์ƒˆ๊ฒจ์„œ ๋˜๋Š” 3Dํ”„๋ฆฐํŒ…์„ ํ•˜๊ฑฐ๋‚˜ ์œ ๋ฆฌ๊ณต์˜ˆ๋กœ ๋งŒ๋“ค์–ด์„œ ํฌ๋ฏธํ•ด์ง„ ๊ธฐ์–ต๊ณผ ํ•จ๊ป˜ ๊ตฌ์ถ•ํ•œ ๊ฐ€์ƒ์˜ ๊ณต๊ฐ„์„ ๋งŒ๋“ค์–ด ๊ฐ€๋ฉฐ ๋‚˜๋Š” ์‹ค์ œ๋ณด๋‹ค ๋” ๊ตฌ์ฒด์ ์œผ๋กœ ๊ทธ๋ฅผ ๋А๋ผ๋ฉฐ ํ˜ธํกํ•œ๋‹ค. ์—ฌ๊ธฐ์—์„œ์˜ ์œ ๋ฆฌ์™€ ์•„ํฌ๋ฆด์ด๋ผ๋Š” ๋งค์ฒด๋Š” ์ด ์ž‘์—…์—์„œ 

๋‹จ์ง€ ์žฌ๋ฃŒ๊ฐ€ ์•„๋‹Œ, ์‹œ๊ฐ„๊ณผ ๊ธฐ์–ต์˜ ๋˜ ๋‹ค๋ฅธ ์–ผ๊ตด์ด ๋œ๋‹ค. ์‰ฝ๊ฒŒ ๊นจ์ง€๊ณ , ๋น›์„ ๋จธ๊ธˆ๊ณ , ๊ทธ ๋„ˆ๋จธ๊ฐ€ ๋น„์ณ ๋ณด์ด๋Š” ์œ ๋ฆฌ ์กฐ๊ฐ๋“ค์€, ๊ทธ์™€ ํ•จ๊ป˜ํ•œ ์‚ถ์˜ ๋‹จํŽธ์ด๋ฉฐ ๋™์‹œ์— ์‚ฌ๋ผ์ง„ ๊ฒƒ๊ณผ์˜ ๋Œ€ํ™”๋ฅผ ์‹œ๋„ํ•˜๋Š” ๋งค๊ฐœ์ฒด์ด๋‹ค. ์—ฌ๊ธฐ์„œ ์ˆฒ ๋˜ํ•œ ๋‹จ์ˆœํ•œ ๋ฐฐ๊ฒฝ์ด ์•„๋‹ˆ๋ผ ๊ธฐํ˜ธ๋“ค์ด ํƒˆ ์˜ํ† ํ™”๋˜์–ด ์žฌ์กฐํ•ฉ๋˜๋Š” ๊ณต๊ฐ„์ด๋‹ค. 


์„ธ์›”์ด ํ๋ฆ„๊ณผ ๋™์‹œ์— ๋‚ด์ ์œผ๋กœ ํ–ฅํ•œ ์ž์•„์— ๋Œ€ํ•œ ์‚ฌ์œ ๊ฐ€ ๊นŠ์–ด๊ฐ€๋ฉฐ ์ง„์ง€ํ•ด์งˆ ์ˆ˜๋ฐ–์— ์—†๋Š” ๋‚˜๋Š” ์ธ๊ฐ„์„ฑ์ด ๋ณธ๋ž˜ ์‹ ์„ฑ๊ณผ ๊ด€๊ณ„๋˜์–ด์žˆ๋‹ค๋Š” 

ํ‚ค๋ฅด์ผ€๊ณ ๋ฅด์˜ ์ธ๊ฐ„๊ด€์— ๊นŠ์€ ๊ณต๊ฐ์œผ๋กœ ์ ˆ๋Œ€์ž์ธ ์‹ ์— ๋Œ€ํ•œ ๊ฒฝ์™ธ๊ฐ์ด ๊นŠ์–ด์กŒ๋‹ค. 

๋‚˜์•ฝํ•œ ์ธ๊ฐ„์ด ์ ˆ๋Œ€์ž์— ๊ทผ์ ‘ํ•˜๊ณ  ์‹ถ์€ ์†Œ๋ง์œผ๋กœ ํ˜น์€ ์˜์ ์ธ ๊ต๊ฐ์„ ์–ป๊ธฐ ์œ„ํ•ด 30~40๋ถ„์„ ํ•œ์ž๋ฆฌ์—์„œ ๊ณ„์† ๋Œ๊ณ  ์žˆ๋Š” ์ˆ˜ํ”ผ์ถค์„ ์ถ”๋˜ ๋ชจ์Šต์€ 

๊ทธ์™€ ์—ฌํ–‰ ์ค‘์— ๊ฐ์ธ๋œ ์ด๋ฏธ์ง€์˜€๋‹ค.  ๊ตญ๋ฆฝ์ค‘์•™๋ฐ•๋ฌผ๊ด€ <์‚ฌ์œ ์˜ ๋ฐฉ >์—์„œ ๋ฐ˜๊ฐ€์‚ฌ์œ ์ƒ์„ ๊ฐ์ƒํ•˜๊ณ  ๋‚œ ํ›„์˜ ๊นŠ์€ ์—ฌ์šด, ๋ช…๋™์„ฑ๋‹น์˜ ์ˆœ๋ก€๊ธธ์— 

๋งˆ์ฃผ์นœ ๊น€๋Œ€๊ฑด ์‹ ๋ถ€์˜ ์ดˆ์ƒ์„ ์‘์‹œํ•˜๋˜ ๊ทธ ๋‚  ๊ทธ๋ ‡๊ฒŒ ๊ฐํžˆ ๋ฒ”์ ‘ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์—†๋Š” ์„ฑ์ธ ๊ฐ€๊นŒ์ด ๋‹ค๊ฐ€๊ฐ€๊ณ  ์‹ถ์€ ๋งˆ์Œ๊ณผ 

๋‚ด์•ˆ์˜ ๊นŠ์€ ์šธ๋ฆผ๋“ค์„ ๋‚˜์˜ ๋ชธ์„ ์‚ฌ์šฉํ•˜์—ฌ ํ‘œํ˜„ํ•ด ๋ณด์•˜๋‹ค. 

์†์ฃผ๋“ค๊ณผ ํ•จ๊ป˜ ํ•œ ์„ฑ๋ชจ์ž์ƒ๋„ ๊ฐ€์กฑ์ด ํ•จ๊ป˜ ๋‚˜๋ˆˆ ์น˜์œ ์˜ ํ–‰์œ„์ด์ž, ์ƒ์ฒ˜๋ฐ›์€ ๊ธฐ์–ต์„ ๋‹ค์‹œ ๋น›์œผ๋กœ ๋ฎ๋Š” ์ œ์˜์ด๋‹ค. ํฐ์ƒ‰์€ ์ƒ์‹ค์˜ ์นจ๋ฌต์ด์ž, ํšŒ๋ณต์˜ ์•ฝ์†์ด๋‹ค.


๋•Œ๋กœ๋Š” ์•„ํ”„๊ฒŒ๋„ ํ•˜์˜€์ง€๋งŒ ์‹œ์•„๋ฒ„๋‹˜๊ณผ ์‚ฌ๋ƒฅํ„ฐ์—์„œ์˜ ์‹์‚ฌ, ์žฅ์„ฑํ•œ ์ž๋…€๋“ค์„ ์ถœ๊ฐ€์‹œํ‚ค๋˜ ์ผ, ์†์ฃผ๋ฅผ ๋ณด์•˜๋˜ ์ผ ๋“ฑ ๊ทธ์™€ ํ•จ๊ป˜ํ•œ ์ง€๋‚œ๋‚ ๋“ค์€ ๋ชจ๋‘ ์•„๋ฆ„๋‹ต๋‹ค. 


Text(en)


monologue3 artist Note


Days spent with someone who is always by my side, yet no longer present anywhere in this world.

Memories that never fade, never vanish — lingering like afterimages deep within my daily life.

At times, my trembling soul sets out to trace his spirit and footsteps.


This work is a dialogue shared in the forest — and in the most intimate of spaces — with the remnants of him, who once loved hunting and, upon his final departure, left painful spikes embedded in my heart.

I draw and engrave the objects he cherished — his traces — onto transparent acrylic panels, or recreate them through 3D printing and glasswork, building an imagined space of fading memories. Through this, I breathe with him again, sensing his presence more vividly than in reality.

Here, the forest is not just a backdrop but a site of deterritorialized symbols, a space where meaning is reassembled.


Though there was pain, all that has passed — sending off our grown children into the world, meeting our grandchildren, 

shared meals in the hunting grounds — has become beautiful in memory.


As time passes, I am inevitably drawn deeper into contemplation of the self. I resonate deeply with Søren Kierkegaard’s view of humanity as essentially linked to divinity. With this comes a growing reverence for the Absolute.

I recall the whirling of the Sufi dancers, endlessly turning in place for 30 to 40 minutes — their yearning to approach the Absolute, 

to find spiritual communion.

I also remember the profound sense of awe I felt in the “Room of Meditation” at the National Museum of Korea, standing before the Pensive Bodhisattva, and the image of Father Kim Dae-geon at Myeongdong Cathedral…

With a desire to draw near to them, I used my own body as a means of expression.


Through these acts, I find consolation — and, perhaps, peace.


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