Super Dakota

"There is a landscape that only reveals itself once the night has dried.

I come to realize, sometimes too late, that I haven’t drunk enough water during the day.

I gulp down several cups all at once, and vitality slowly returns.

Then I begin to think about what must be done tonight. The sun has long set, and the room lies in darkness.

I start turning on the lights, one by one, thinking about what might help me endure the night.

There was a time I sensed that the core material feeling that runs through my work might be dryness.

Perhaps this arose from my deep relationship with materials like metal and wood, substances I’ve spent years working with.

To me, dryness is a kind of final state, something left behind after what once existed has evaporated or vanished.

My work does not aim for essential form, but instead moves toward the remnants of solidity.

I’m not seeking reduction, but a state that is transparent and sincere.

The sculptural language I believe in does not show itself all at once.

It reveals its face only through repetition, revision, and sedimentation.

I have no interest in materials untouched by time.

That’s why I do not hide the processes, marks, or histories of wood or metal.

Rather, these elements are brought to the surface; they resonate deeply throughout the work.

To slip outside of time, I find myself sensing it more acutely.

This is an attempt to speak of the things that emerge only after the night has dried.

My practice carries tactility, weight, silence, and inwardness. It acts as a quiet resistance to perceptual conditions that have shifted into private, intimate realms, countering the lightness of sensation, the superficiality of trends, and the barely perceptible drift of attention.

For me, furniture expresses the temporality of the everyday. I believe it can gently awaken others through the slow intermediation of touch and sensibility. I acknowledge utility without submitting to it, pursue form without veering into ornament, and engage the senses without resorting to spectacle. What I produce enacts a restrained form of courage, a composed motion that subtly unsettles the inertia of the familiar. The structure of my work demands duration, and tactility emerges through repetition.

This exhibition presents a constellation of pieces crafted from oak, oak veneer, and silver, materials to which I am currently most devoted. The "Goshun Shade Series" comprises lighting elements constructed with thin, scorched oak veneer. The way illumination flows through these forms, and how the surface receives and releases it, departs from conventional approaches to lighting design. It is an attempt to give contour to the immaterial, a choreography of radiance as presence. Light becomes matter, substance shapes ambiance, and atmosphere evokes memory. These works serve not merely as functional elements within space, but as assemblages, devices that open quiet territories for contemplation.

Scorching holds both ruin and remedy in a single act. This ritual process, burning the surface, draws inward tremors into view. Through this thermal language, I reflect on being and interpret the recollection embedded in substance. I sear, carve, and melt, letting the hand inscribe time as both trace and echo. In doing so, I reveal the grain, summon hidden strata, and unravel layers of perception, while tracing the quiet imprint of duration.

To me, this practice resembles a sedimented script, composed of thought fragments that surfaced through the night.

Night, then, is deeply personal. Beyond the decisions I make in shaping forms, a more veiled terrain of imagery quietly unfolds in this exhibition.

Night is not something to be seen; it is something to be felt."
Yoon Shun