In the preface to this book, literary critic Lee O-yeong wrote:
“There are people who fade into legend or myth. Jeon Hye-rin—she is one of them. … She had seen the world. And so, even on the streets of Seoul or in front of a café in Munich, she was a ‘guest.’ … She burned with relentless desire, living her brief life amidst unceasing tension.”
Jeon Hye-rin was born in 1934 in Sunchon, South Pyongan Province(Pyongannam-do). While studying at Seoul National University’s College of Law, she decided to pursue the studies she truly wanted. In 1955, she embarked on a new chapter in the unfamiliar land of Munich, Germany. With her fiery word and vvid writing style, she left behind many translations and writings. However, she tragically ended her life at the young age of 32. I was completely captivated by her life, her spirit, and the struggles she documented in her works, as she strove to live her life fully free and creatively.
At 20, when my entire world was confined to Korea, a divided land, I harbored a longing for distant worlds and a deep curiosity for the unknown. For over five years, I wandered across various parts of the world. Returning to her book after those years, I found myself deeply resonating with themes I had not grasped during my first reading: solitude, a sense of distance from one’s homeland, and a profound sense of creative calling. Perhaps this connection may stem from my own continuous yearning for the transcendent and creative, my enduring compulsion for expression, and the fundamental loneliness and a sense of self-doubt I had experienced.
When I encounter writers who have been profoundly inspired by their journeys to unknown or foreign worlds, I am overwhelmed by a desire to follow their footsteps. It stems from a curiosity about the sources and contexts of their creativity, as well as a personal need to seek out my own “waiting for Godot.” Through the process of tracing these past worlds—times and places that no longer exist—I expand my sense of space and time. My creative process involves a sort of summoning: calling forth the ideas embedded in past creations into the present, reimagining them, and transforming them into tangible works with my own hands. Rather than attempting to recreate these ideas in the homogeneity of ordinary space and time, I strive to speak from the irreproducible “here and now,” a moment that persists and transcends. The energy left behind by the writer still feels vivid, eternal, and suspended like a fragment of time, as if in a museum. Like Frida Kahlo, who painted immortal flowers, I am deeply fascinated by the creative energy that does not end with the accumulation of historical time but interacts with the living present, passing through me, another creator.
For me, the works birthed by others are both the driving force of my creativity and the source of my inspiration. Even when the creator is long gone, their works seem to speak to me, alive and vibrant. Although Jeon Hye-rin lived like a flame and ended her life long ago, her ghost lingers eternally, stirring what has been called the “Jeon Hye-rin Syndrome” among later generations. As one of those deeply touched by her spirit, I create with the aspiration of summoning her ghost—resonating with me—to pierce through the confines of time and bring her presence into the “here and now.”
And Then Said Nothing is a project aimed at rendering the voice of a ghost reciting poetry into sound and vision. It is process of revisiting and internalizing the words Jeon Hye-rin poured out during her 32 years, and reimagining each letter as a note in a music box score that ultimately comes together as a piece of music.
I Am Sound(Flying Sound) embodies the nomadic sentiment that traverses both Jeon Hye-rin and myself—a simultaneous longing for home (Heimweh) and a yearning for distant places (Fernweh). It reflects the ceaseless movement of leaving somewhere, returning, and finding that the original place has disappeared.
Where Are You From(Woher Sind Sie) originates from the question that inevitably follows me as an Eastern woman and a perpetual outsider. Becoming an “other” myself, I pose questions that provoke self-reflection and seek my origins. In this process, my native language grows clearer, while languages other than my own disperse like a transparent mist. It is also an inquiry into the root of my paradoxical feelings—why must I leave my homeland despite the solitude and alienation I experience as an outsider? Jeon Hye-rin spoke of beginning with the inexplicable emotion she felt while sitting by the pier, gazing endlessly at a receding raft. I imagine this scene. My thoughts and the ghost of Jeon Hye-rin seem to take shape, only to scatter and disappear like a veil under external influences, blending together. Amid this interplay, I focus on the faint sounds created by the collision of small beads, a metaphor for remote interactions and open calls.
Under the Poplar Tree, which surveys the landscape of dialogue between Jeon Hye-rin and myself, exists as swaying objects like the branches of a tree and trembling shadows like sunlight filtering through the leaves. Poplar trees frequently appear in her writings, depicting the Munich streets where she studied abroad. The poplar tree, whose name signifies “the people’s tree,” evokes a shared space that welcomes interaction and connection. Beneath the imagined poplar tree in my mind, this work invites viewers into a shared experience, fostering moments of mutual engagement and hospitality.
Songha Lee, And Then Said Nothing, 2024, Color pencil on score, music box and stone, Variable dimensions.
*In the video above, you can briefly listen to the sound of And Then Said Nothing
Songha Lee, Flying Sound, 2024, Music box, wooden box, Cyanotype and gum print on paper, 50 x 17.5 x 7cm.
Songha Lee, Where Are You From(Woher Sind Sie), 2024, Beads, wood and pipe, 162 x 45.5 x 23cm.
Songha Lee, Under the Poplar Tree, 2024, Thread on round hanger, Variable dimensions.
한국어/KR