Pain is not something directed “toward” something nor “about”
something. Pain exists alone.³ Because pain has no specific object that can
substitute for or explain it, it is not expressed in language. Rather, we see,
feel, and accompany pain through the mouth that swallows it while groaning,
through the trembling flicker of fingers, through protruding joints and dark
bruises. Perhaps it is a misunderstanding to say that pain has no language.
Pain “changes our language”⁴ or can be said to expand it.
In Kafka’s The
Metamorphosis, the epidermis is not merely “sensation” but moves between the
trace of the self and a new self, pushing pleasure, anxiety, and residual
hidden selves to the surface. This property of the epidermis is rediscovered in
Dasom Park’s painting, where she treats the canvas as “a human body.” Rather
than self-sufficiently existing upon a firmly fixed frame like traditional
painting, when she pushes herself onto a fragile and sensitive surface, the
canvas becomes a boundary that connects exterior and interior, like the
artist’s own skin.
Dasom Park paints in her “fifth-floor house” studio. In front of a
window open toward the rooftop where heat haze rises in the sweltering weather,
a quiet teacup, a wine glass, and white napkins are placed. In one corner hangs
a small mobile given by a friend. The reason for ending this text with the
seemingly ordinary “fifth-floor house” is a change in realizing that the
essence of pain contained in her painting was not the social solidarity of pain
I had casually imagined.
And because I came to understand that pain is not an
object to be found in space but something like intensity, velocity, or the
trembling of matter operating invisibly within space. Today, when even the
possibility of new life under ever-hotter heat is doubtful, living here on this
Earth, life may be experienced not as bliss (supreme happiness, 至福) but as fear, not as the fullness of potential
but perhaps as a thoroughly meaningless void.⁵
Therefore, to be in solidarity with pain is less harmful and less violent than
urging happiness. Pain, even within meaningless daily life, quietly breathes
while holding the possibility of new generation and contact, and changes us.
1. House of Day, House of Night, by Olga Tokarczuk, translated by
Lee Okjin, 2020, Minumsa, p. 278
2. In Vibrant Matter, Jane Bennett introduces Gilles Deleuze’s
short essay “Immanence: A Life,” stating that a life is “a pure event free from
the subjectivity and objectivity of what has happened,” and thus visible only
momentarily. For her, life resides in a strange non-time existing between the
various moments of biographical and formal time. Vibrant Matter, by Jane
Bennett, translated by Moon Seongjae, 2020, Hyunsilmunhwa, p. 147
3. The Body in Pain, by Elaine Scarry, translated by May, 2018,
May 18 Publishing, p. 262
4. The Undying, by Anne Boyer, translated by Yang Mirae, 2021,
Playtime, Lisio Publishing, p. 235
5. Vibrant Matter, by Jane Bennett, translated by Moon Seongjae,
2020, Hyunsilmunhwa, p.148