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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Trapped in an Enclosure with Predators…

About an hour later, after roughly finishing my work, I opened the front door with a cup of coffee in hand. Instantly, a chorus of frantic bird calls poured in from outside.

The front yard was unusually busy with the restless movements of my two cats.

Something was clearly happening.

The birds sounded unusually close. I walked over to the two electric kilns standing against the wall of my workshop and peered into the narrow gap between the kilns and the wall.

There, to my horror, was a tiny fledgling.

What a dreadful situation!

I quickly rounded up my two cats, who were already conducting a full-scale search operation, and hurried them indoors, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Now I had to catch the little bird before panic and exhaustion finished what fear had begun.

That proved far more difficult than expected.

After much scheming, I finally managed to capture it using a cardboard parcel box that had arrived only the day before.

But then a new problem arose.

What should I do now?

The little bird could barely flutter.

I had neither the knowledge nor the experience to know what was best, so I asked ChatGPT.

Its advice surprised me.

Most people, it said, immediately think about finding food for a young bird. But this might simply be an unfortunate mishap during the fledging stage. The best course of action could be to place the bird somewhere visible to its parents and observe from a distance.

My front yard, however, is frequented by wandering cats, and I hesitated.

Yet I agreed that the parents would be the bird’s greatest hope.

So I decided to try.

I placed the open box on the wall bordering the street in front of my house.

The frightened fledgling immediately fluttered out, scrambled from the box, and jumped down to the sidewalk below.

Soon it reached the road and began crossing.

Just then, a black van appeared behind me.

I waved frantically to stop the driver and pointed toward the tiny bird.

To my great relief, the driver immediately understood and cooperated.

The fledgling safely crossed the street and disappeared beneath a parked car on the opposite side.

Then came a long game of hide-and-seek.

After some time, the little bird changed direction and headed down a side lane, vanishing beneath another parked car.

Using my phone’s camera, I finally managed to locate it and was fortunate enough to capture two photographs.

After that, while I searched in circles, it slipped away somewhere beyond my sight.

No matter how hard I looked, I could not find it again.

And so I was left to wonder:

Was this where my part ended?

I prayed.

To God Almighty.

To Jesus, the Truth.

To the Blessed Virgin Mary, full of compassion.

And I entrusted the little bird to hands greater than my own.

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