100 Bowls

For many years, I have been moved by the blue at the far edge of what can be seen, that color of horizons, of remote mountain ranges, of anything far away. The color of that distance is the color of an emotion, the color of solitude and desire, the color of there seen from here, the color of where you are not. And the color of where you can never go.  

—Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost

I once read a physicist's account of energy and matter, how the tiniest atoms define our material world through their relationship to one another. The speed at which these atoms move around each other determine their mass; motion manifest as matter. The idea of this constant, vibrational movement, even in stillness, gave me pause. It was as if everything was purely a matter of perception, and could dissipate; evaporate into nothing. As I watched soft, filmy soap bubbles gliding over wet porcelain while washing my dishes, I contemplated the transient nature of these mundane objects.

The first blue bowl drawing began on a quiet Fall morning. I was immediately drawn to the cool, smooth and modestly scaled porcelain that held memories of warmth—of soup, of meals shared with friends, of warm soapy water running between my fingers during each washing. It was this contradiction of coolness and warmth; the paradox of something that was so familiar yet so ephemeral, that led to a series of conversations with these quietly unassuming objects. 

My memories are tinged with blue. Each drawing is teased out from a ghostly center; soft circular haloes resonating from within. Delicate threads touch, overlap and lick the edges. Meandering lines fade and emerge through multiple layers. 100 Bowls is this sustained meditation on stillness and motion.

Hana Kim, March 2011

100 Bowls as first installed at Chroma Projects in Charlottesville, Virginia, December 2010