Height, far, together shoong Painting

Mountains Are Mountains I am Park Han-ji, an artist who tells the story of a house built on a mountain. During the Korean War, countless refugees gathered in Busan, building homes that stretched up to the mountain peaks. Even amid the desperation of war, the mountains made room for both houses and flowers to bloom. The mountain, in its generous embrace, is like a mother’s arms—steadfast and giving. But aren't we modern refugees too, constantly searching for better homes, better lands? What is the path to mutual prosperity? In the nature of the mountain, I seek answers. For people like me, who live unsettled lives, always in motion, there is a certain anxiety. It feels no different from the refugees of war, endlessly searching for a place to call home. Even after the war, my journey of escape never seems to end. I yearn for the stability of a settled life, and I look to the mountain, which stands unmoved, to learn what that means. Modern society resembles a house built on a mountain—unstable, unsettled—much like the refugees who once sought refuge there. It mirrors my desire for movement and change, symbolized by the dynamic flow of planes and cars. Through my work, I aim to strip away the essence of the mountain, leaving it as a blank canvas, a space to share thoughts and reflections. I also draw on the image of the rock, a place where no home can stand, as a metaphor—a resting point for the values of nature and the world, through the portrayal of houses that cannot be built on rocks.