Woojung Hoh, ‘Lines’ Series, 2024. Installation view of 《Panorama》 (Daejeon Museum of Art Open Storage, 2024) © Woojung Hoh

Dear Mr. P,

We have been somehow trapped in a hexahedron for some time. I was so focused on the rectangular frame that I was chasing a certain shape, and before I knew it, I was inside a hexahedron. However, this doesn't mean that Mr. P and I are trapped in a hexahedron, which is being sucked into a vanishing point inside a frame.

Fortunately or unfortunately, we actually share the sense of standing with our own feet on the floor of a hexahedral space with our hands groping the walls. Now that I've mentioned that Mr. P and I share a sense of space, I realize that my earlier remark about being "trapped in a hexahedron" is a bit rigid.

Could it be that my penchant for chasing shapes in the same way I did before, even after we had encountered this hexahedral space together, was still present in my unconscious mind, manifesting itself in the form of angularly shaped words?

Although I said that I was preoccupied with the frame of a square, the shape Mr. P described to me was not a square. More precisely, it would be correct to say that I was preoccupied with using an imaginary rectangular frame to play around with some shapes in my mind.

Even before Mr. P drew a shape on his own and showed it to me on a square piece of paper and on the monitor screen, we had both probably been drawing it in our minds with a rectangular framework. Why do we insist on imagining forms through a rectangular frame, even in our imagination? Is it just as natural as breathing for Mr. P, who is a painter?

Someone once told me that the square is a patented product of mankind, born from the human mind. He assumes that as the number of tools (objects) humans owned increased and they organized them into rows, they became spatially aware and came up with the square.1 Perhaps that’s why I, who is not a painter like Mr. P, have a rectangular frame in my mind.

I thought we were drawing the same shape using the same rectangular frame. But there was a subtle disconnect between the shape I had in my mind based on Mr. P's description and the shape he later drew and showed me. I was a bit taken aback, but upon reflection, the inconsistency was somewhat inevitable. But what Mr. P then said made me confused.

He said he could no longer tell how much the shape he drew in his mind's rectangular frame matched or differed from the one he actually drew on a real rectangular frame. In retrospect, I think we were already slowly transitioning from a rectangular frame to this hexahedral space at that point. We just didn't realize it until we had arrived in this space.

Let me take a brief detour to a different space-time. I often feel this not-so-large hexahedral space as if it were a massive strike zone. On a weeknight in the plaza in front of a baseball stadium, I was on the phone with Mr. P, who was somewhere else, while I was waiting to watch a game. I remember we had a long conversation about the relationship between the frame of a rectangle and certain shapes.

As the game was about to start, I rushed to wrap up our conversation and headed into the ballpark, where I spent well over two hours watching pitchers and catchers from both teams throw and catch balls across an invisible square of hexahedral. Perhaps it was because the afterimage of my conversation with Mr. P lingered in my mind.

I believe that the pitcher and catcher have created an invisible geometry in that imaginary space by delineating a well-defined but invisible hexahedron called the strike zone, with the physical acts of pitching and catching based on mutual repetition and difference.2

Now we're back in the space of the hexahedron we walked in.Come to think of it, this space is not standing between people like a strike zone, but it is actually surrounding us, the people. Unlike baseballs that smoothly pass through an imaginary hexahedron, we are trapped in this real one. I thought for a while that we were like pitchers and catchers, gauging the hexahedron and drawing shapes from a distance, using a baseball as an intermediary.

But at this point, I feel as though Mr. P and I are baseballs. The good news is that we can still move around and physically feel the faces of the hexahedron and draw shapes without being thrown around like a ball. But in a region known for its infinitely vast plains, touching and feeling anything is seen as the rudest of insults, or a crude and barbaric approach.3 

Do we have to be like the people in that region and draw our geometry from a distance and just by speculation? I am not sure if it is possible for us, standing in this not-so-large and finite hexahedral space.

Now, whatever the circumstances, we must now draw our own shapes within this hexahedral space, not within the confines of a rectangle. Strictly speaking, it's not us; it's Mr. P, the artist, who paints. My role would be to look over the space with him. Even if we don't know the entirety of the shape right away, if we step on the surface of this place and trace some of the shapes, we might start to see the whole big picture that we couldn't get in our minds at once.

Of course, it will be in a different way than when we met in a perfect rectangular frame. Furthermore, I hope that Mr. P can move on to another space of possibilities that exists on the other side of this hexahedron. That possibility probably arises from encountering a finite space rather than an infinitely vast plain. After all, only a ball that bounces off a hexahedron and stops somewhere in the ballpark can meet another hexahedron that will reshape it once again.

Respectfully yours,
C


1) See Akasegawa Genpei, Framed History (Tokyo: Chikuma Shobō, 2022).
2) A detailed description of the strike zone can be found on the “2024 Rules and Rule Changes” page on the KBO website (Accessed May 8, 2024).
​https://www.koreabaseball.com/Kbo/League/GameManage2024.aspx 
3) See Edwin A. Abbott, Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions (London: Seely & Co., 1884).

References