Letters Ladders, 2024, performance: comb, incense, diary, charcoal, two ladders, durational
Two ladders are placed on the corner. The comb and an incense replica of it are placed on the table. Folded diaries are placed next to. Some are written in Korean, others are in English. Performance starts when I light the incense and climb up the ladder to write the title of the performance, the current time, and the score for the audience:
Letters Ladders, 2024
KST June 8 11:30- PST June 7 19:30-
1. Pick up letters on the table (Pink: only in Korean)
2. Call 661-***-**** (my phone number)
3. Read it for me
I write a phrase or a word in response to what the audience reads to me over the phone. If they read a diary note in English, I write in Korean on the right wall. If they read it in Korean, I write in English on the left wall. I repeat this act until the letters run out, while climbing up and down each ladder. When audiences stop reading, I climb up and read one of my diaries (which you can find below). I write the ending time to end the performance.
My sister took her own life in November 2022 in Daejeon, Korea. Pacific oceans away. 5,990 miles away. 16 hours away. I wasn’t able to attend her funeral, not because I was here, but because nobody told me about this loss until April 2023. For five months, I didn’t even know she’s no longer in the same world with me. As soon as I heard about it, I had to write. About her, about myself. About guilt, worry, anger, hatred, love, incompetence, remorse, sorrow.
We weren’t close. We fought. There were a lot of disagreements between us, about the world, politics, life, values. But at the same time we were connected. I remember one time we had the exact same dream on the same night. She was an amazing artist, and I probably started making art after her. She had suffered from mental issues for a while, so did I. I thought I hated her, but in fact I think I was afraid of her, afraid of getting affected by her. It seemed too easy for me to be connected with her.
When I was asked to perform here today, I immediately thought of this performance I had in mind. I wanted to communicate with her from a distance. Both in English, and Korean. It’d be nice if she was here.
I put this comb that she had left, which seems like she bought on her birthday March 28. I gathered dead leaves from my indoor garden, and made an incense out of it that resembles her comb.
I want to finish this with one of my writings.
