On the way to, On the way back

In 2024, I lost both my father and my first dog, Berger. I call the year of a cascade of loss, shaping my days in ways I could not escape. This piece consists of two photographs of on the way to the grave and on the way back.

In 2024, I experienced profound loss—the passing of my father and my first dog, Berger. Their deaths, occurring just days apart, felt like an inescapable cascade of absence. In Korean tradition, we observe the 49th-day ceremony (49제), marking the transition of the deceased. Three days before my father’s 49th-day ceremony, Berger crossed the rainbow bridge, a term used to describe the passing of a beloved pet.

On the 49th day after my father’s passing, I visited his grave. On my way back, I stopped by Sapgyo Lake, a place I had never been before. Alone, with my camera, I captured what would become the top image in this work. The quietness of that place was heavy with all that remained unspoken.

This piece consists of two photographs—one taken on the way to my father’s grave, the other on the way back. The space between these images is filled not only with absence but with presence—what was once there and what still lingers. The diptych structure reflects the act of departure and return, mirroring the cyclical nature of grief and memory.

This work is part of On the Way to, On the Way Back, a larger series that explores the transitional spaces encountered between loss and remembrance. It is also a chapter within Tales of an Unknown Artist, a project that reconstructs the fragmented traces of an artist whose story was never fully recognized. Both projects examine how absence shapes presence, how the unseen and forgotten persist in quiet, intangible ways.

Through this work, I reflect on what it means to move forward while carrying the weight of what has passed, questioning how loss reshapes both physical landscapes and inner spaces.