At a temperature of 1050 degrees Celsius, the clay transforms into a different substance. A fragile yet solid  phase emerges, a fascinating ‘artificial paradox’. The question remains: in what medium and at what temperature can I do the same? Can I float in this universe, dissolve into ash, condense, evaporate, sublimate... —For every wish I cherish and nurture, for every trace of a vague, rough meaning... For every drop of smooth, ambiguous tears...

In the closed and finite world of humankind, in a world defined by language, all narratives are linked to the act of creation. Everything that is spoken is capable of introducing ambiguity and untruth in order to achieve a certain effect, and so embellished reality struggles to be defined amidst the endless hustle and bustle and banality of the world.

I gaze at the clouds, the trees, the flowing water. I feel the twilight in the evening sun; I feel the temperature of the clay against my bare skin. And everything changes, everything moves, everything

spins, everything flies and fades away. But every time I knead a dynamic form, it solidifies. I stubbornly insist that every line should be endless, and so the clay grows into infinity until I must stop in this time and this space. Just as I must tend to my body and soul to feel the sun.

Our human existence begins and ends in the physical body. Human beings perceive the physical world through their senses, which have limited capabilities. Our consciousness is an imperceptible dimension of our being. As humanity, we are constantly searching for ourselves, the universe, and infinity, and the question arises as to whether we are even capable of grasping the truth.

A star comes into existence when a gas nebula collapses. Our body is a complex chemical organism. Every hormone acts between different cells. None of us likes pain, but we like the endorphins our body produces when we feel a sharp pain. Endorphins are the body’s own morphine-like substances that create a pleasant, euphoric feeling.

When I perform an action regularly and repeatedly, the curves of the ceramics grow, endorphins are released in my brain, and I feel happy.

The ceramics are my self; I am my expression. When I project my self into the external material world, I experience an inner creative moment, and then I experience it again in my consciousness. Through the slow dissolution of the ego, I seem to be better able to explore this mysterious power. Just as light knows that it exists as light, we can only experience it as light when we are in darkness.

Every person is a small universe, a reflection of the universe. When I look within myself, it is as if I can see the whole world.

In the spring of 2023, I will begin the first part of my new project, “LILac ALCHEmy”: hazy wave, smooth ash, diffuse nebula, and my/our LIBIDO. I am attempting to create a laboratory of the “I”—a laboratory that

can temporarily detach itself from the physical body to return to the energy field and perceive space-time. This experimental process is a dialogue between the unconscious and the conscious in time and space,

akin to a poetic and absurd alchemy of the self.

Every moment is forever, every frozen moment remains forever, every past existence is forever. The sensation of a feeling remains forever. The world existed long before I was born, and it will always

continue to exist. I do nothing, do I? I have done nothing, have I? And yet I feel the wind blowing through the air—perhaps that is a meaning.

If I lean on the absurd and stand upon the ruins of reason, can I then, through the strange logic of energy, convey the essence and meaning of existence in the world of pure fantasy that I have created for myself?