Gestures of Holding

Walking is how I find belonging — in the cities I've lived in, the neighborhoods I've learned slowly, the trees I've come to recognize.

When I lived in London in 2025, there was a Paulownia tree in my neighborhood where people gathered and sat beneath it. Pale violet flowers in spring welcomed everyone. And then, during the fall, huge leaves, branches, and seed pods dropped. After all the showy flowers and leaves had fallen, what remained was quieter. A small branch. A calyx. A broken seed pod.

I found the five-lobed calyx with a seed pod barely hanging, resting on the street. It was beautiful. It is built for holding — it encloses the flower, carries the seed, and after everything has passed, carries the memory of the form and texture.

It was only later that I learned the Paulownia is native to Korea. I am from Korea. Neither of us was where we came from.

Was it why I picked up the calyx, because I recognized something in it before I understood why? Noticing what's around me while walking led me to this tree, helped me learn more about it, and made me feel more a part of it. Making works inspired by these encounters is where Gestures of Holding begins, in listening to quiet forms, in making objects that hold, the way a calyx holds. worn to the body. Present in space. Carrying stories what is often overlooked.