Brushstrokes of the Stratum: Two Meters of Time
Near Gyelim Elementary School, a place embedded with memories of my childhood, the familiar old roads have vanished, replaced by newly risen apartment complexes. Amidst this ongoing urban construction and development, an archaeological excavation site inevitably takes shape before any new foundation is laid. Digging down roughly two meters into the soil, archaeologists spend weeks or even months carefully brushing away layers of earth. In Gyeongju—a city defined by strict height limits and building regulations—this routine process of excavation transcends mere construction; to me, it reveals itself as a shared, public aesthetic performance.
The dense, heavily textured surface, tangled lines, and subterranean flashes of red and blue represent the strata of history and the traces of existence buried deep beneath the earth. The 30 cm ruler hanging at the center of the canvas symbolizes human metrics—the arbitrary height restrictions imposed on modern urban landscapes, alongside the precise, measured art of archaeological discovery.
Much like that noble moment when a gentle brushstroke unearths a thousand-year-old dialogue across time and space, this work serves as a visual record—a quiet excavation through the long tunnel of accumulated time within a constantly shifting urban ecosystem.