Her name is Today – ADORE GALLERY

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

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Her name is Today

Her name is Today—
no, this moment.

Breakfast barely tasted,
what they wait for
is the world outside.

For Latte
perhaps the spirited girl
he once chased and quarreled with
in the heat of play.

For Nuna
perhaps the handsome wanderer
who once called her name
from the shadow beneath a car.

Latte leaves
without promise,
as if tomorrow were guaranteed.

But Nuna stays
by the door.

She waits
as though the iron gate
might soften
if she hopes long enough.

Disappointment
breaks her easily.

She circles my feet,
pressing her small body
against my legs.

I must step carefully—
so I do not crush
her fragile hope.

Only when I lift her
into my arms
does the trembling ease.

Her damp nose
touches my neck,
my cheek—

a quiet animal
trying to soothe
its own sorrow.

We both understand
this moment.

Time passes.

Latte returns.

But Nuna
remains where she was,
curled in the same small shape
of waiting.

A sorrow
I must cross
every day.

I speak to Latte
resting on my bed.

“Comfort her.
Nuna is hurting.
She needs you.”

I bring Nuna to him
and lay her beside him.

Perhaps he understands.

Latte begins
to lick her gently.

And Nuna answers.

Yes—
that is it.

Nuna,

Her name is Today.

This moment.

Let it pass,
and she’ll disappear.

Tomorrow
is never faithful.

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