Episode 1 — I Wasn’t Meant to Be an Artist But I Became One Anyway

I was born in 1986, in a city called Gwangju, South Korea.

I don't know about other families in Gwangju, but mine had absolutely nothing to do with art.

My parents, my relatives—none of them were anywhere near the word “artist,” and naturally, I had no interest in art either.

There’s a reason I emphasize this point.

The story you're about to read isn't about a child who was born with artistic talent.

That doesn't mean I was completely indifferent to visual things.

I really loved comics and animation.

I never had formal drawing lessons, but every time class started, I would fill the margins of my textbooks with dense doodles.

“Textbooks are for studying!” my mother would shout like thunder.

I still vividly remember being scolded for all the doodles in my books.

The smell of chalk dust on my fingertips as I rubbed the pages with an eraser, the texture of paper lifting it’s all still with me.

Looking back now, even then, I couldn’t stop making things.

I also have a vivid memory of building LEGO sets my father bought for me. Click click every time a brick snapped into place, my mind lit up. Looking back now, that may have been the only “artistic” thing I did as a child.

Exhibitions? Concerts? Movie theaters? I have absolutely no memory of ever going to places like that. That’s how far removed my life was from art. But one thing was certain—I loved making things.

At this point, you might be wondering:

“Then how did you become an artist?”

That question was one I, too, carried for a long time.

To be honest, there was something I enjoyed even more than making things: playing with friends. Especially hide-and-seek. That moment when I hid somewhere, holding my breath as the seeker passed right in front of me that sudden drop in my chest, followed by a rush of heat. That thrill.

And then there was bicycling a small bridge that let me explore “new worlds.”In elementary school, my friends and I once rode our bikes all the way into a completely different city. We left early in the morning and didn’t return until the sun had set. My parents, worried beyond belief, ended up getting angry.

“Where on earth have you been?!”

Even though I got scolded, the sense of freedom that adventure gave me was just too good. The more I pedaled, the more the wind shaved across my face, and I believed truly believed that I was gradually expanding my world.

Looking back now, that feeling was the complete opposite of the solitude found in a studio. My childhood stood on the far end of the spectrum from a life of solitary creation inside a room.

So now do you see? I was never a child who naturally belonged to art. And yet, here I am someone who’s walked with the dream of becoming an artist for over 20 years.

Why? Why did I choose the profession of being an artist and decide to live this kind of life?

Maybe the answer will begin to show itself from the next episode. And maybe just maybe if you, too, have something you used to do just because you loved it as a child, something that ended up quietly changing the direction of your life—then I hope you take a moment to hold onto that thought.

Our story is still long.