Bongsu Park is looking at me in response to a question I have just asked her about her strongest memory. We are sitting and chatting on the ground floor of the Hanmi Gallery at the small reception table near to the stairs, where she is showcasing a mixture of some old and new work. Her exhibition entitled;Before Lines, After Lines  runs until the 1st of June. Its a gallery that is undergoing renovation,but the very bare and stripped back interior invites you to view Bongsu’s work in this raw state without any pretension.

Having grown up in Busan, the second largest city in Korea, she found herself questioning the meaning of life and death from a very early age, a theme that is prevalent in her works. She looks at me in deep thought and instead poses the question back to me. For a minute, I forget who the interviewer is as I proceed to answer with a memory of myself aged 3 in a room with my father and brother watching my bunk bed being made. However our role reversal causes us to question the fragility of memory. What actually is it? Is it possible to have a pure thought, or is memory mixed with images of photos that you see with stories people have told you rather than the pure memory itself. Despite this, she recalls herself aged six, in the temple being told to meditate by a monk on one thing she should not give up on.One senses there is a steely determination beneath the shy and humble exterior. […]