When I was a Junior in high school, my US history class had a debate about WWII and the teacher wrote down on the white board, “Was the Bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki justifiable?” My classmates had immediately disagreed because of how so many innocent citizens died from this atrocity, as they studied history from American textbooks. But I felt extremely confused. I was about 9 when I moved from South Korea. During my elementary school years, my mom would teach me Korean history at home. This included the painful details of the Japanese Colonial Period and how the Japanese had tortured Korean people until the atomic bombing brought independence in 1945. I was afraid to bring such controversy in front of the class. That moment marked the beginning of a struggle to locate myself between my Korean identity and experiences in America. I use various media—from performance to video installation—that allows me to see how culture forms individual perspectives in society. As an immigrant, I’ve become acutely aware how perspectives can shift or absorb new ideas depending on the cultural values or education system that shape them. My practice focuses on how those views can clash or inform each other, while also investigating how they can lead to deeper conversations of empathy. In one of my courses at Cornish, Studio: Meaning of Making, we were tasked to create an art about our identity. Inspired by the experience in high school, I created Fall Piece. I decided to reframe that internal conflict through showing two events from the Japanese Colonial Period in Korea: the Haircut Decree in 1895 which was carried by the pro-Japanese Korean government that forced Koreans to cut their hair, and the Bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945 that brought independence to Korea. For the piece, I filmed myself shaving my own hair entirely with a hair clipper for 45 minutes. Secondly, I used the remnants of hair and placed them in a splashing, circular shape on a paper to represent the bombing. Juxtaposing these two events–a forced assimilation and the violent liberation—allows me to express my feeling of ethical dilemma as a Korean American. I challenge the audience to question how ethical judgments are constructed by cultural backgrounds. The clump of hair represents commemoration of the victims of Korea and Japan. My work is devoted to understanding how we can find connections and hold space for grief even when our views are different. My artistic process stems from research. I make art because I feel the need to speak on certain social topics, so it is important to me that I understand the historical and factual background of what I’m discussing. This process influenced my artwork to be educational. When I exhibited Fall Piece in the Specialist and Fishbowl Gallery or for the studio critique, I engaged in conversations with audiences who had never heard of Korea’s history. Those exchanges reminded me that art has power not only to express but to educate others through my practice. My work has shaped my perspective that at the heart of every societal issue there are voices unheard. During research, I came to realize the layered nature of cultural conflicts. In a culturally diverse country like the US, I believe it is important to illuminate those marginalized individuals and their perspectives. I am deeply inspired by my experience as a camp counselor, where I shared meaningful conversation about pronouns with a nonbinary camper. That moment led me to research how culture affects representation among transgender youth. My other studio assignment was to create an art about space. For this, I chose a public elementary school. Flag That’s Never Complete is a public video installation which I focused on transgender children around the world. I gathered interview footage from 23 documentaries and YouTube videos that feature transgender children, aged 3-12, from countries including the United States, Australia, and South Korea. From this research, I was able to examine various ways in how each country shows them. While I found many individual interviews of children in western backgrounds, Asian media only featured clips of American children rather than their own. Examining the gap between each representation is the core theme in this work. This installation is a research-based, social activist art. I wanted to bring awareness to this matter and emphasize how crucial it is for us to recognize their existence. In the video, each child's face makes up the American flag. When they talk, they turn into their original color from the color of the flag, so the viewer will focus on the speaker. I edited out any B-roll footage or parent’s commentary from the clips, so the national symbol remains incomplete without the presence of those kids. This work was intentionally displayed in the Cornish cafeteria for a week to engage with public. It was a reminder—an education for the students and faculties—that they exist, even when the media silences them. I am dedicated to social change in my practice and will continue to uplift voices that the world needs to hear. My biggest inspiration in my artistic journey is Kendrick Lamar. His music roots from a personal narrative, but it speaks to a broader message that resonates across cultures. When I was in middle school, I became deeply moved by his album, To Pimp A Butterfly (2015), which explores themes of cultural identity and his perspective as a Black man in America. As an Asian American, his vulnerable story about the Black experience has opened my eyes to perspectives beyond my own. Through his music, I learned that sharing your own story is an important form of education in a diverse society. Music became the first form of art I ever created. Since middle school, I have written my own rap songs and shared more than 7 mixtapes on my Soundcloud, rapping about my experience as a teen immigrant in American culture. Kendrick Lamar has taught me how art can bridge different viewpoints and help us understand one another. Though I now span across mediums, the core idea—that individuality matters and needs to be heard—continues in my practice as I commit to represent the underrepresented. Receiving this scholarship is critical to my circumstance as the eldest child of an immigrant family. My family had lived in a rented house for about 9 years in America, while my parents were trying to get a stable job and struggling with English. We finally moved into a new house last year, with the help of government programs that help us take out mortgage loans. Most of our income goes to paying for the house. I have a younger brother attending University of Washington now, and another sibling who will likely attend college in a year. I cannot afford to take out any loans and pay them after my graduation. My goal is to pay the 4-year tuition all by myself. For my Freshman year, I paid from all my work savings and outside scholarships during high school. For my Sophomore and Junior year, I paid the entire tuition by receiving four distinct Cornish scholarships twice in each year. Still, I have a far financial distance to reach to continue my Senior year. During school, I work as a Studio Assistant at Fabrication Lab. I cannot afford housing, so I commute to school every day for 2 hours by public transportation. Plus I do not have a meal plan, so I usually carry a bag of protein bars to save time working in the studio. Every dollar I save goes into tuition and art supplies, and I am working really hard for it. Studying art at Cornish is desperately critical to my practice. Through studio courses, assignments, and critiques, I learned what it means to make art that’s rooted to my identity and resonate with the world. I honed my skills in interdisciplinary mediums and developed confidence in sharing cultural conflicts and social topics in my work. As I engaged with a diverse group of students and professors, I learned through their various perspectives and dialogues. My goal is to pursue an MFA in art and become an art professor. I want to pursue an out-of-state graduate school so I can immerse myself in the larger art community. As an aspiring artist and educator, I am dedicated to expanding my skills and views while centering Korean and immigrant perspectives in practice. I will bring back my cultural research to building a classroom where students from marginalized backgrounds can feel empowered to tell their own story. I believe in the power of representation in education, and I want to be a guiding figure who understands bicultural struggles and cares about social issues. This scholarship will let me continue my Senior year at Cornish and help pursue my study in the Master's degree. If I am given this opportunity, I will make ceaseless effort to make every hour count in this school and devote my life to my educational career.