During my recent visit to Korea, one of the most memorable experiences was visiting the Kikney exhibition. Through humor, nostalgia, and heartfelt storytelling, the exhibition offered a powerful reminder of the beauty found in ordinary life and human connection.
One of the Most Meaningful Experiences in Korea: The Kikney Exhibition. Among the many meaningful moments during my recent visit to Korea, one experience stands out in a special way: visiting the Kikney exhibition.
This trip to Korea was filled with important moments. I spent time with family, visited my mother's resting place, and revisited places that shaped my childhood and identity. Yet among all those experiences, an exhibition created by a contemporary illustrator left a lasting impression on me.
I had followed Kikney's work for some time before visiting the exhibition.
What makes Kikney's art so unique is its ability to capture the emotions of everyday life. With simple drawings and short phrases, the artist tells stories about family, friendship, work, childhood memories, and the small struggles that connect us all.
The artwork is often humorous, but beneath the humor lies something deeper: honesty.
As soon as I entered the exhibition, I realized this was not a traditional art show.
Rather than focusing on technical mastery or grand artistic statements, the exhibition focused on people. Ordinary people. Families. Children. Parents. Friends. Neighbors. The kinds of people we encounter every day but rarely stop to appreciate.
Walking through the exhibition felt less like visiting a museum and more like stepping into someone's memories.
Many of the installations recreated scenes from everyday Korean life. Small apartments, classrooms, neighborhood streets, family living rooms, and childhood spaces were brought to life in remarkable detail. Visitors were not simply observing the artwork—they were entering it.
That immersive experience made the exhibition especially powerful.
Throughout the galleries, Kikney's signature phrases accompanied the artwork. Short sentences that seemed simple at first glance but lingered in the mind long after reading them.
One quote in particular stayed with me:
"No one really knows where the finish line is."
Such a simple thought, yet one that resonates deeply.
Perhaps it affected me more because of where I am in life right now. Losing my mother last year changed the way I think about time, family, and what truly matters. Returning to Korea only five months after her passing brought many emotions to the surface.
As I moved through the exhibition, I found myself reflecting on memories of my own family.
Several pieces centered around parents and children, family relationships, and the passage of time. Those works felt especially personal. They reminded me that while life continues to move forward, the people we love remain with us through memory, influence, and shared experiences.
Some installations made me laugh.
Others made me nostalgic.
A few brought unexpected tears to my eyes.
That emotional range is what impressed me most about the exhibition. It never felt overly sentimental or dramatic. Instead, it reflected life as it truly is—a mixture of joy, humor, disappointment, hope, and love.
As an art teacher, I left the exhibition feeling inspired.
We often think great art must be technically complex or visually spectacular. Kikney reminded me that art can also be powerful because it is relatable. Sometimes the most meaningful artwork is the kind that simply helps people feel understood.
The exhibition reinforced something I often try to teach my students:
Art is not only about drawing well.
It is about communicating something real.
It is about telling stories.
It is about helping others see themselves in your work.
During my two weeks in Korea, I visited historic palaces, beautiful temples, bustling city streets, and modern cultural spaces. Each experience was memorable in its own way.
Yet when I think back on the trip, I know the Kikney exhibition will remain one of the highlights.
It reminded me that beauty can be found in ordinary moments.
It reminded me that humor and vulnerability can exist side by side.
Most importantly, it reminded me that the stories we share with one another are what connect us as human beings.
I left the exhibition feeling grateful—not only for the artwork itself, but for the opportunity to pause, reflect, and appreciate the people and memories that have shaped my life.
Sometimes the most meaningful journeys are not the ones that take us somewhere new.
They are the ones that help us see familiar things with new eyes.

After a two-week visit to Korea, I returned home with a heart full of memories, gratitude, and reflection. This trip was not only a journey to my homeland but also a time to honor my late mother, reconnect with family, and rediscover the beauty of where I come from.

Returning Home: A Meaningful Two-Week Journey to Korea. I recently returned to the United States after spending two weeks in Korea. Although I am still struggling with jet lag and the lingering fatigue that often follows international travel, it was a deeply meaningful and rewarding visit.
This trip was different from any other.
It had been about five months since my mother passed away, and this was my first time returning to Korea since then. I had visited countless times throughout my life, but this journey carried a different emotional weight. The familiar streets, sounds, and scents were all there, yet everything felt slightly changed.
Perhaps it was because I had changed.
One of the most important reasons for this visit was to pay respects to my mother. Together with my family, I visited her resting place and spent time remembering her life. Standing there, surrounded by loved ones, I found myself reflecting on the many memories we shared.
Living in the United States often keeps me busy enough to push grief into the background. There are classes to teach, students to mentor, and responsibilities to manage. Yet standing quietly at my mother's gravesite reminded me that grief never truly disappears—it simply changes shape over time.
While there was sadness, there was also peace.
Instead of focusing solely on loss, I found myself feeling grateful. Grateful for the years we had together, grateful for the values she passed on to me, and grateful that I was able to return and honor her memory alongside my family.
Spending time with family was another gift of this trip.
Most of the year, our conversations happen through phone calls and text messages. Being able to sit together, share meals, laugh, and tell stories face-to-face reminded me how precious those ordinary moments truly are. As life becomes busier and years pass more quickly, I have come to appreciate family time more than ever before.
I also had the opportunity to revisit many places that hold special meaning for me.
Walking through the heart of Seoul, I was struck once again by the unique balance between Korea's rich history and its modern energy. Towering office buildings stand beside centuries-old gates and palaces. Ancient traditions continue to exist alongside some of the world's most advanced technology.
On rainy mornings, I wandered through downtown streets watching buses flow through the city. I visited historic landmarks and admired the beauty of traditional Korean architecture. The stone walls, painted eaves, and elegant courtyards seemed to tell stories that have endured for hundreds of years.
One of the highlights was returning to the royal palaces.

Seeing visitors dressed in hanbok walking through the palace grounds brought a sense of pride and nostalgia. The intricate patterns of the dancheong paintings, the carefully crafted wooden structures, and the quiet dignity of the palace halls reminded me of the beauty of Korean heritage.
I also spent time visiting temples nestled among lush green hills.
Colorful lanterns hung overhead while stone pathways led through peaceful gardens and traditional buildings. Away from the noise of the city, these places offered moments of reflection and stillness. They reminded me of the importance of slowing down and appreciating the present moment.
Another memorable stop was one of Korea's famous modern bookstores.
Rows upon rows of books stretched toward the ceiling while visitors explored, read, and gathered with friends. I was reminded that despite Korea's rapid growth and modernization, there remains a strong appreciation for culture, learning, and creativity.

Throughout the trip, I found myself constantly moving between past and present.
Some moments brought back childhood memories. Others highlighted how much life has changed. Yet no matter how many years I spend abroad, Korea remains my home in a way that is difficult to describe.
Home is more than a location on a map.
It is the collection of memories, relationships, sounds, and experiences that shape who we are. It is the place where our stories begin.
For me, Korea will always be that place.
Now that I am back in the United States, life quickly returns to its normal rhythm. There are classes to teach, projects to finish, and daily responsibilities waiting for me. Yet I carry something valuable home from this journey.

I return with gratitude.
Gratitude for family.
Gratitude for memories.
Gratitude for the opportunity to reconnect with my roots.
Most importantly, I return with a renewed appreciation for the people who have shaped my life, especially my mother.
I still miss her every day.
But this visit reminded me that although people leave us, the love they give us never truly disappears. It continues to guide us, encourage us, and live on through the lives we lead.
​
As I move forward, I hope to honor her memory by living with kindness, purpose, and gratitude—qualities she taught me through her example.
Sometimes returning home is not simply about visiting a place.
Sometimes it is about rediscovering who you are.
And for that reason, this journey will remain one of the most meaningful trips I have ever taken.

We are so happy to share that this year’s SchoolNova Art Exhibition was completed successfully. It was a meaningful and memorable event for everyone involved.

This year, our theme focused on the integration of Science and Art. Students went beyond simply creating artwork—they explored, observed, and expressed scientific ideas through their creativity.

As you walk through the exhibition space, you can see carefully displayed projects on tables and vibrant artworks covering the walls. Each piece reflects a student’s unique perspective—some inspired by nature, others by imagination and curiosity about living things.

The colorful drawings and paintings demonstrate not only artistic skills but also thoughtful observation and interpretation. These works show how students developed both creative expression and critical thinking.

One of the highlights was the mask display, where students experimented with materials, forms, and ideas. These pieces beautifully capture the joy of exploration and hands-on learning.

This exhibition was not just about the final results—it was about the entire process:
observing, questioning, imagining, and expressing.

More than anything, what filled the space was not just artwork, but the students’ confidence and growth.
​
We sincerely thank all of our students and families for their support and participation. We look forward to continuing this journey of connecting Science and Art, helping students think deeply and express freely.

Recently, my work has been about building the “muscle” for daily painting. I have returned to creating small watercolor pieces in order to paint as many beautiful things in the world as possible. My recent mission is to capture beauty at a glance, often within just 15 minutes.

This kind of practice helps me create watercolor paintings that are clearer, more transparent, and filled with light. As I continue this training, I can feel myself improving. Areas that once felt blocked begin to open naturally. Along with that breakthrough comes a deep sense of fulfillment, and the paintings themselves become softer, brighter, and more effortless.

I focus on the natural brilliance of color itself and try to respect the organic flow and blooming that watercolor creates. When this balance is achieved, watercolor no longer becomes muddy. Acrylic and oil painting each have their own strengths, but watercolor possesses something uniquely beautiful — freedom, the poetry of flowing color, and the space that allows those beautiful accidents to happen.

When transparent layers of color overlap to create new colors, the luminosity becomes extraordinary. Sometimes I wonder if there is any medium that can express light as beautifully as watercolor. This light is not artificially scratched onto the surface with a brush; it is an unexpected gift naturally created by pigment, water, and paper together.

Working with watercolor also reduces the exhaustion of painting. I simply allow the water and pigments to do their work for me. The water continuously creates marbling effects, gently blending colors and settling them softly into the paper. When the pigments are absorbed well, they shine like morning sunlight. Seeing such paintings brings me immense joy.

For now, I want to continue painting the beauty of the world through watercolor. I want to capture as much beauty as I possibly can. I feel excited wondering what kind of art lovers I may meet through this journey. Just as people discovered and cherished my earlier works, I believe there will once again be those who recognize these paintings and welcome them into their spaces.

As artists, we often develop a desire to paint larger works. Large paintings carry a powerful presence. They feel grand, impressive, and somehow more professional. They are also better suited for competitions and exhibitions. In reality, painting these small studies may not directly advance my career in any dramatic way. But my goal this year is simple: to paint as much as possible.
​
Without limitation, I want to continue capturing the beauty of the world.

Recently, many of my watercolor paintings have begun as postcard-sized works. Although they are small, I try to capture as much beauty, light, and atmosphere as possible within that limited space. These daily exercises and paintings have become deeply meaningful to me. Some of these cards are later given to friends as birthday or thank-you cards, while others are sold at outdoor art shows. Creating the delicate feeling of watercolor in such a small format is never easy, but it is always joyful. Each tiny painting feels like a miniature world of its own, filled with quiet beauty and peaceful landscapes. That is why I truly love this process.

Life can often feel exhausting and heavy. Recently, our community experienced a frightening situation when a fifth-grade student made threats involving a possible school shooting. Many parents, neighbors, police officers, and school staff were thrown into panic. It even appeared in the news. Whenever I witness events like this, I cannot help but feel heartbroken for children growing up under so much stress and emotional pressure.

For many years, researchers and educators have studied the positive effects of arts education on children and communities. Studies supported by the U.S. Department of Justice and youth development organizations have shown that participation in art programs can reduce aggression, improve emotional regulation, and lower delinquent behavior among at-risk youth. Other long-term studies have also found that children who regularly participate in arts and cultural activities tend to show lower levels of antisocial behavior and stronger social and emotional skills. Art gives young people a healthy way to express themselves, develop confidence, and build meaningful connections with the world around them.

Whenever I read these studies, I am reminded again of the importance of arts education. Children need joyful and creative lives filled with culture, imagination, and beauty. They need opportunities to explore who they are and to become deeply absorbed in something meaningful. I believe this is important not only for children, but also for adults.

There is something incredibly valuable about creating a single painting, feeling a sense of accomplishment, improving little by little each day, and sharing beauty with others. I understand deeply how precious that kind of life can be.
​
I feel very grateful that God gave me this artistic gift. Because of that gratitude, I always try to share it through teaching and through art itself. Even these small daily postcard paintings are an extension of that thankfulness. Each tiny card may look simple, but to me, it represents a quiet celebration of beauty, growth, and hope in everyday life.