YUNA CHO                 About
    
2026
Do We Ever Think About What Stays After?
다 지나간 후에, 남는 것들에 대해 우리는 생각할까

2025
What Surrounds, Touches, and Holds    둘러싸고, 닿고, 지탱하는 것들
Soft Tending    스며드는 힘
In Relation, Becoming Again    남겨지고 쌓여 전해지는 것
The Weight of Everything    보이지 않는 것들에는 힘이 있어
The World Is More Beautiful When It’s Viewed From a Low Place    
낮은 곳에서 바라볼 때 더 많은 것들이 보여

Embossments    눈에 보이지 않는  

2024-23
I Can Be Whatever I Want    난 무엇이든지 될 수 있어요
This Is All Me   이게 나에요
Paper Echoes    종이는 우리에게 속삭여
Liminal    무경계

In
The Dark, You Can See Everything    어둠속엔 모든게 보여

I’m Scared (Encountered)    오우 (마주쳤어)
Portal    희미하지만 발소리가 들려


 


Do We Ever Think About What Stays After?, 2026
다 지나간 후에, 남는 것들에 대해 우리는 생각할까





Photo credit: Jackie Furtado, Paloma Dooley


My work moves slowly, like something breathing.

I often think about what stays after something has passed — after a moment, a relationship, or a place we’ve moved through. Paper becomes a way of tracing those quiet residues. These surfaces absorb light, dust, moisture, and touch, allowing the environment to shape their form over time.

Cast skins peeled from temporary structures and lifted grounds formed through exposure to light, dust, moisture, wind, and human presence hold the memory of contact long after the moment has passed. They sag, soften, collapse, and gather themselves again, adapting to the conditions they inhabit, much like we do within the environments and relationships we move through. 







Left bare, 
the paper acts less as an image than as a witness, holding time within its fibers.













Alongside the work are diary fragments written in Korean, intimate yet not fully accessible. 
Their presence marks the passage of time and the assertion of a self moving through it. This tension between legibility and opacity echoes across the surfaces, where tears, stains, and imprints accumulate without a single clear origin. 









Together, the works propose a slower way of looking: 

to notice subtle forces at work, 
to return to what has shaped us, and 
to tend gently to what remains as we continue becoming.