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

Blog

Wise Words

Happy New Year

 

 

Below is a piece written by my respected friend, Sharon M Reid

 

The Year I Choose to Begin Again, a 2026 Resolution

Sometimes a new year doesn’t arrive with answers.
It arrives quietly.

Like a pause.
Like a long breath finally leaving the body.

And in that quiet, a question rises honest, unguarded.

Is there still room for me to begin again?

It’s easy to believe the hardest seasons get the final word.

Easy to let mistakes, missed chances, and years spent surviving convince us that the story has already said what it needed to say.

Easy to mistake exhaustion for an ending.

But 2026 is not here to judge where I’ve been.
It is here to meet me where I am.

So this year, I stop dragging every old version of myself into the present.

I keep the lessons the ones earned through effort, loss, and endurance and I release the weight that was never meant to be carried forever.

I let the past rest.

Life has never unfolded in straight lines.
It bends.
It pauses.
It breaks open not to punish, but to make space.

There are moments that take something from you.
And there are moments that quietly give you back more than you expected.

In 2026, I trust that forward doesn’t have to be loud to be real.
That healing can be slow and still honest.
That light can return gently, without announcement.

Some days this year will stretch me.
Some will steady me.
Some will simply ask me to show up and breathe and that will be enough.

I stop measuring my life by what went wrong.
I begin honoring it by what I survived.

When doubt appears, I remind myself.

I am allowed to begin again without permission.
I am allowed to hope without guarantees.
I am allowed to move forward without having everything figured out.

This year, I choose courage over fear.
Presence over regret.
Compassion over self-judgment.

I show up to my life as it is imperfect, unfinished, alive.
I allow moments of peace without questioning how long they will last.
I welcome joy without suspicion.
I let rest exist without guilt.

2026 is not a test.
It is not a deadline.
It is not a demand to prove anything.

It is a doorway.

And this year, I step through it not rushed, not afraid, not carrying everything at once
but grounded, open, and willing to live what comes next with intention.

This is the year I choose to begin again.

And that choice is enough.

POST A COMMENT