Installation view of 《I Lost Friends Last Summer》 © Sohyunmun

She has land that has been given to her, hands that tend to it, and a friend who waits for that time. Sometimes across a floor full of fabric, sometimes across pieces of cloth spread out only as wide as a palm, unheard confessions can be heard.

At the edge of the land, along the edges of the fabric, long stories are unraveled through thread. There is a friend who plants quince with the resolute face of the summer monsoon, wherever countless strands are stretched long, tangled, or gathered into knots.


Interview: Ko Woori–Baek Pilkyun (2025)


Baek: In a previous interview, you answered that your work is a kind of “friend.” Do you still think the same these days?

Ko: At the time I said that, I had an experience of talking for a long time with someone side by side, sharing the same thoughts to the extent that I could not tell whether I was you or you were me. The sensation I felt then seemed similar to what I feel in the process of working.

While it was talkative, I also hoped that the work would become independent from me, rather than being unable to separate from me or burying me. In the end, I thought it would be good if this “friend”(the work) could live separately as an independent being, go to good places, and shine(in my place).

But these days, I am not sure. Momentarily, I think the work is like a “blurred mirror.” I am doing something, but I do not know what I am doing, and I often face the bottom of myself.

I am in the process of persuading myself, and I often confront my own complicated state. It is a very frustrating mirror that does not tell me exactly what I am doing. Recently, since I have been working with other people, I encounter things I had not felt before, and I think that is why.

Baek: Please introduce your recent work.

Ko: If I previously focused on “anxiety in relationships,” recently I have become interested in “relationships that remain connected nonetheless.” Since 2021, I have continued working by connecting canvas fragments through sewing, and some viewers read this through a feminist lens. This made me question it, so this year(2025), I carried out a project to consider that more deeply.

In the work, I created an environment in which I could interact with others in a way I designed, such as sewing together with women who are distant from or close to me in relationship. For me, it is a kind of tempering. In that process, I began to focus on questions directed toward myself, and a path of hardship unfolded.


Installation view of 《I Lost Friends Last Summer》 © Sohyunmun

Baek: Why do you think feminism was mentioned in existing audience responses? Did earlier criticism influence not only the process of the work, but also the form of the outcome?

Ko: I felt that the act of “sewing” and the repeated elements of corporeality through the “hand” were naturally connected to feminine labor or the language of emotion, and it was often interpreted that way by people around me. But as I continued working, questions gradually arose: “Can this be seen as femininity?” “Is my work seen this way because of my identity as a woman? Or is this something I am pursuing?”

According to my thoughts so far, I acknowledge that it can be seen as femininity, but the direction I pursue is not feminism alone. I am interested in “human beings,” “relationships,” and “emotions.” So my attitude in this year’s outcome has also changed somewhat.

Whereas before I organized the form and pushed it until it reached my own standard, in this work I focused on honestly reaching an incomplete and unstable emotion that accepts a loose state with others.

Baek: The process does not seem easy. You chose to take a difficult path. Did you find a different kind of interest in the work than before?

Ko: I felt, “As expected, others are an unknowable world to me,” and I felt the “sad-funny” feeling that people(I) do not change easily.

Baek: Where does the laughter come from here?

Ko: It has been 10 years since I started working until now, and they say even mountains and rivers change in 10 years, but I feel that I myself have remained the same. The laughter above is closer to self-reflection and futility than to the meaning of haha-hoho happiness. It feels closer to ironic humor that comes from a kind of resignation, or a self-deprecating reaction to an absurd situation.

Baek: Why did you feel that the world changes but you remain the same?

Ko: The world really changes diligently, but I still have not found an answer, so I hesitate and waver, asking, “What is a relationship?” and “How is this emotion connected?” I feel as if I am circling the same point.

At first, the work began from language and methods connected to femininity, but in the end, my gaze naturally flows toward looking into the structure of emotions felt by human beings and toward the whole that encompasses that and its surroundings. Perhaps that is why I can keep working.

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