Dongwan Kook, A Ferry, 2014-2016, Colored pencil on paper, 195 x 64 cm © Dongwan Kook

Hoigwang-Banjo (回光返照) is a Buddhist meditation practice that calls for turning outward-directed light back upon oneself, and it is also the method I use for drawing. Through this act, I draw my own inner self as reflected in the subject I intend to depict. The specific process is as follows. I print the subject I want to draw and attach it to a sheet of glass, cover it with paper, and then shine light from behind the glass, using the resulting shadow as the basis for the drawing.

Sometimes I follow the contours of the shadow; sometimes I draw what is suggested by its shape or meaning, or reproduce an image I have just seen. Most of the time, however, I simply watch what my hand draws. Without a preliminary sketch or an eraser, moving from the upper left to the lower right, I slowly connect fragments of consciousness retrieved from moment to moment.

A Ferry began three months after the Sewol ferry disaster. During those three months, no matter what subject I chose for a drawing, I found myself inevitably drawing things related to the Sewol. There was no need to deliberate over whether or not to draw the ferry; I immediately searched for its blueprints.

After obtaining an old set of plans from when the vessel was imported from Japan, I traced the lines and printed them at approximately 200 cm in length. At the time, I usually spent two to three months completing drawings measuring 50 × 70 cm, so 200 × 70 cm felt enormous. I think I felt that it should not end easily—whatever “it” might have been.

Unlike my other drawings, this one began at the lower right and ended at the upper left, because I worked with the blueprint turned upside down. As a result, the ferry itself floats upright, while many things inside it are suspended and adrift. In the early sections, there are many specific images associated with the Sewol ferry disaster—paper boats, life rings, shoes, fingerprints, school uniforms—but as the drawing progresses, increasingly abstract forms begin to appear.

Time passed without anything being clearly established or resolved, and within me the event repeatedly faded and intensified. Eventually the drawing was completed, but nothing happened. The countless lines I had laboriously drawn merely showed that a considerable amount of time had passed.

Through the form of 'Hoigwang-Banjo,' the subject awakens me and compels me to look. This mode of drawing is itself a methodological subject. In this way, the Sewol ferry, which I had intended to draw, instead made me draw myself. A Ferry was recently published as an artist’s book titled Things Salvaged from a Sunken Passenger Ferry (written by Dongwan Kook / Boundary Books).

Adopting the format of a coloring book, the publication is based on collages that fragment A Ferry and reconstruct it into thirty scenes. Just as I relied on this drawing to make my way through that period of time, I hope this book can reach anyone who needs something to hold onto. In this way, my drawings continue to carve out their own paths and move toward another dimension.

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