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Empathy

접촉과 연대

EMPATHY  " Take off your own SHOES, and Step into the SHOES of another   "
A turning point in my artistic journey came in 2014, when I met a mother who had lost her son in a tragic disaster. When I held her hand, I felt a surge of empathy that left a deep and lasting impression. From that encounter onward, I began to use the human body as my medium: a vessel of vulnerability, memory, and relational presence.

It begins with a liturgical gesture of humility and reverence: I wash the feet of those who have endured deep suffering—grieving mothers, displaced persons, survivors of violence. The act of foot washing necessitates the removal of their shoes, a natural yet intimate unveiling. These shoes—once worn through pain, migration, and memory—are not discarded, but consecrated. They are transformed into electrically conductive objects: material fragments that carry more than function—they carry presence, witness, and the trace of the body that once inhabited them.
Each participant’s voice is pre-recorded: sometimes whispered, sometimes breaking. These voices speak not to explain but to witness—to resist erasure.

Audiences are invited to remove their own shoes and step into a donated pair. Without taking off their own shoes, the circuit cannot be completed. Then, They reach for my hand. A soft light glows as the circuit completes. A voice speaks. silenced voices and lights came forth. These sounds and sights revealed a hidden truth: that the shoes were once worn by other people, whose suffering had been ignored by others. One particular pair had belonged to the mother who had lost her son.

- In 2025, I encountered Rowan Williams' work on empathy, which profoundly reshaped my understanding of the concept. He challenges the common idea that empathy is simply “feeling what someone else feels.” Instead, he suggests that true empathy begins with the recognition that we cannot fully feel or know what another is going through — and that this very limit is what makes the ethical encounter with the other necessary and transformative.  In particular, his interpretation of Edith Stein’s The Problem of Empathy offered deep insight. I was deeply inspired by it, and I am now actively studying her book and engaging with her thought in both my research and artistic practice.

This insight changed the way I approached relational art. Empathy, for Williams, is not a psychological technique or an emotional mirror — it is a moral and bodily posture: the willingness to stand before another without illusion, without full access to their pain, and yet to remain present, open, and responsible. He draws from philosophy, theology, and developmental psychology to show that we come to know ourselves through others — through our bodies being in relation, through the fragile yet necessary risk of acknowledging that the other is not just “like me,” but irreducibly other. Informed by this vision, Empathy is no longer about identification, but about presence across difference. It invites participants to recognize that the true depth of human connection lies not in fusion, but in the respectful tension between nearness and mystery. I am now developing a new approach, which will soon be shared on the new site.

"How can the simple act of removing one’s shoes become a way of freeing oneself from the constraints of the ego?"
I entitle this work - Noli Me Tangere [ Do not touch me ] John 20:17

[ Eyes Adi : Syrian Refugee ] 
Z/KU, Berlin, Germany 

In 2017, I met Eyas Adi - a Syrian refugee - and heard his story. This was during a month-long residency at ZKU in Berlin, where I worked with Adi to produce an interactive installation aiming to tell the heartbreaking tales of refugees.
Taken from the idiomatic definition of ‘empathy’ – “to put yourself in someone else’s shoes” - I decided to use Adi's shoes as the central object of this artwork. Shoes are an important piece of clothing: they have walked every step of our journey with us. So, to justify taking such vital items from my collaborator and modifying them, I first offered to wash Adi's feet.
A film of this process was shown to audiences and directed their attention to the care and humility involved in empathy. The same shoes that were seen in the video were then presented to the audience, who were invited to step into them. When an audience member wore Adi's shoes and held my hand, an electrical circuit would trigger certain sounds and images: Adi's voice, and images of refugees.
Although hushed and unnoticed at first, Adi’s story now broke the silence. It had been cued by a universally warm gesture – holding hands. I was absorbed by the abstract idea that an act of touch can create an “empathy tie,” and in turn, can release stories that have been silenced.

[ Kam Charles : South Sudan Refugee]
Bemis Center for Contemporary Art, Omaha, Nebraska,USA 

In I and Thou, Martin Buber writes: “All real living is meeting” (Buber, 1923: 11).
To live and experience life, and to become ourselves, we must meet others.
I became myself through my meeting with Kam Charles, a refugee from South Sudan, who gave me his words and his shoes. If you take off your shoes and put on Kam’s, you too will ‘become yourself.’
  During this performance, Kam's voice was heard saying :
1. I was conceived, born, and raised in war.
2. I count not pursue my dreams or make a plan for my life because war took that privilege away from me and it dictates my tomorrows.
3. I could not play and laugh like a normal child because war silenced me.
4. My own home is war town hence inhabitable.
5. I cry all the times when I think about home, my mother, sisters, brothers, uncles in war
6.If people could be brought out of that environment, I would work for it 24/7, to share this life with them or whoever needs it.
7. If you have peace, would you please share a portion with someone like myself
8. I want piece in South Sudan, can you share your peace with us
9. I want my friends to visit me at home at peace and be happy with me in peace at home
- [ Voice of JongSun Han : the victim of the Brother's Home abuse casety] In front of National Assembly, Seoul, Korea
Jongsun is the victim of a ‘Brother’s Home’, a concentration camp where homeless men were exploited through violence and forced labor.
Victims had been fighting to uncover the truth of their sufferings, in front of the National Assembly building, in Seoul, Korea.
 [ For the mother : who lost her son at the Ferry disaster ] Asian Cultural Center, Gwangju, Korea