The secret stars drift apart from each other, quietly but unstoppably, floating into the vastness of the unknown. At this moment, the world is collapsing into a reality. True loneliness has nothing to do with uneasiness, and arouses a light sense of fright. Within such a space there is no so-called ingeniousness or efficiency, no expectation or demonstration. Art and time would emerge in a slow and laid-back way. In the utmost serenity even time would seem to go quiet. Here manifestation and experience count for nothing. Even the most powerful data is not able to make prediction. Devastation, on the other hand, demonstrates profundity and power of unification. The state of uttermost helplessness could enjoy supreme glory. Stillness and hesitation would lead us to feel a weak sense of brightness at the darkest field. If there is something that is called art, it is the fourth-dimensional space that could be stretched. It is beyond explanation and understanding. It acts according to its own will. If you try to catch it, it will vanish. If you put yourself into a state of nothingness, then it will emerge. The seemingly deserted images are brimming with mysteries. Work is nothing more than a reference, helping you to get to know what not to do for the next work. Kafka said: “You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen.” Even listening would not be necessary. Just wait. Or maybe not even that. Just remain quiet and lonely. The world would reveal itself to you. It has to. And it would float in front you intoxicatedly.

Those who are surrounded by darkness often strive for brightness.

Quietness is the truth.