Welcome, and thank you for visiting my modest gallery tucked away in a quiet corner.

Here you will find a variety of my works—large and small, diverse in character and spirit. I arranged them in this way because, seen together, they may give you a clearer sense of who I am.

To be honest, I often feel my lack of formal training and the limited time I have been able to devote to art. Yet I continue without pause—feeling, learning, and growing in the process.

I am not a master of any single field, nor do I belong wholly to any place. Take what you see as it is, and carry with you whatever impressions remain. Though I began in earnest later in life, I have always sought to keep faith with my first intent—to let neither results nor criticism define me, but to follow the quiet integrity of my own path in art.

At times, a sudden impulse led me to submit small works to competitions, and a few were recognized. In Korea, I once taught art at a high school for about ten years. In 2009, after twenty years of living in Australia, I returned to Korea, where I now work as a sculptor. That, in essence, is the whole of my artistic journey.

I have no interest in heavy philosophy. What moves me are the kinds of impressions that feel like music, and the vivid realities that the world tirelessly brings forth.

I love travel and every kind of documentary, and hold special respect for the creators of BBC Earth, whose programs I watch with admiration. And one thing is certain: without music, I imagine my veins would carry nothing but plain water.

Perhaps artists are simply those who live in the busy square between the entrance of expectation and the exit of fulfillment.

Even if you arrived here by chance, I am grateful.

Yoonki Hong
Born 1952

ADORE-GALLERY
85 Cheongun-ro, Mungyeong-eup, Mungyeong-si Gyeongsangbuk-do, Republic of Korea

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When Strange Creatures Meet

 

[The suspicious little kittens who wandered into my front yard now rule it—they ask, and I answer]

Strange creatures came
to the shallow canal
I had barely begun.
They lingered,
left,
returned—
as if something in me
called them
without sound.

Rain,
hope,
a wind making its own path—
all of it
slipped quietly
into my chest.

The gate between us opened.
A soul began to flow.
If it felt like kinship,
I held it.
If like destiny,
I let gratitude
take flight.

Dusk laid down its red quilt.
A guitar drifted across the table.
We shared thoughts
that might have been tedious—
but in this light
felt gentle
and allowed.

What is glory?
Where does a gaze speak?
On land with no signs,
no flags,
they say
everything resting there
becomes love.

A child folds into sleep.
Your small hands,
tucked beneath your heart—
what did they hold
so tightly today,
dear child?

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