Being and Not Being beget each other, Heavy and Light crown each other, Long and Short point at each other, High and Low turn each other, Tone and Sound lift each other, Before and After follow each other.

—Tao Te Ching 2, translated by Edwin Denby

At the entrance of Thomas Park Gallery, a translated text quoted from Chapter 2 of the Tao Te Ching is inscribed on the wall, guiding visitors in place of a signage. Just as one steps into the gallery, I wish to begin this essay with the text. To my knowledge, Chapter 2 might be the only part of the Tao Te Ching that contains the Chinese character 美  for “beauty.” The opening passage suggests, “When everyone deems something beautiful, it is ugly,” a statement that resonates with the spirit of challenge toward aesthetic conventions in contemporary art. The chapter unfolds to reveal that opposing forces in the world do not simply exist in contrast to each other but instead define and sustain each other.

For the English translation of the chapter, I have chosen the version by Edwin Denby (1903–1983), the esteemed New York School poet and dance critic. Denby took a loose approach to translation, using verbs that evoke the dynamics of dance—expressing how opposing forces sustain one another. It is a remarkable intersection between Eastern philosophy and the language of Western poet and dance critic. As I begin Jiwon Park’s exhibition, I, too, consider a few key verbs.

TURN

Jiwon Park’s work inherently embodies the interdependence of opposites—East and West, craft and sculpture, plant and animal. She initially studied engineering in college before turning to ceramics, drawn not by the idea of becoming a ceramicist but by the materiality of clay itself. Her mother is a sculptor. Listening to her speak, it’s clear that she has always thought like a sculptor, though she chose ceramics as her field. At its core, both ceramists and sculptors are bound by a shared material: clay.

During this interview, Park mentioned tropism, a term that also appears in the titles of her works. The sculptural forms of her works resemble the tropic movements of plants, and she explained that her artistic process has also evolved in response to her environment, much like a plant adapting to its surroundings.

The etymology of tropism comes from the word turn, referring to the physiological response of plants or organisms to external stimuli. A plant grows by turning toward the light or adjusting its direction in response to contact with external elements. Both animals and plants shift their course in reaction to their surroundings. Park, too, has responded to the materiality of clay as one responds to life itself. A defining sculptural characteristic of her work is that it can evoke both plant-like and animal-like forms.

HOLD

When I first saw Jiwon Park’s work, the word “官能, 관능sensuality/sensation” came to mind. The sinuous curves of her pieces, echoing the torsion of a human body, the velvety clay seeming to dissolve into a slow surrender, and the forms unfurling like petals in a moment of tender bloom—all of these exude a profound, almost visceral sensuality.

I’ve always sensed an air of unknown dignity in the word "官能, 관능 (sensuality/sensation)"; its dictionary definition is as follows.

1. The functions of all bodily organs necessary for life, including breathing in the lungs and sight in the eyes.
2. The activity of the five senses and sensory organs. (Example: The sensory evaluation of coffee aroma involves three stages: smell, taste, and touch.)
3. The stimulation of physical pleasure, particularly sexual sensation.

(Source: National Institute of Korean Language)

The Chinese characters for “sensuality/sensation" are composed of 官 (gwan, meaning “high office” or “function”) and 能 (neung, meaning "ability" or "function"). This suggests that the word originally referred to the function of bodily organs, yet today, it is often used only in the third, more limited sense.

One of the most sensuous官能 experiences in this sense I have ever encountered is the Seomjin River. It possesses strength, yet its gentle flow evokes a sense of generosity and warmth—a life-giving presence. Sensuality is not merely about superficial desire; rather, it relates to the function of our organs, the vital force that sustains life itself.

Interestingly, the word "organ" (器官, 기관)—as in the body's organs—combines 器 (gi, meaning "vessel") and 官 (gwan, meaning “high office"). This means that the word "organ" literally translates to “a functional vessel.” In Korean, we also use the word "vessel" to describe a person's character, potential capacity—as in how much one can "hold."

One of the earliest tools created by humans was earthenware, the vessel made of clay. If we consider this, the act of holding is one of the first signs of humanity, and also its ultimate measure.

UNFOLD

Jiwon Park’s most recent works take on unfolding forms, as if a twisting human torso has opened itself up to bloom. The split sections, as thin as flower petals, appear delicate yet pulse with a quiet vitality. There is a sense of emergence—of something once enclosed finally unfurling.

Some of her pieces, reminiscent of tree stumps or torsos, can function as stools, embodying craft’s practical utility. Yet, once these forms open up, their functionality as stools disappears, and they become something between sculpture and vessel. This entire process unfolds organically, much like in Tao Te Ching 2, where opposing forces are dynamically linked through verbs.

For this reason, this exhibition is structured and designed to reflect the unfolding nature of Park’s artistic process. It is a process of turning, holding, and unfolding, organically.

Mimi Park