Maybe because I am small, I don’t like big, loud things or big, strong people. I prefer things that are simple and modest.
A few days ago, a woman I met at the gallery asked me why I write my English name (sooim lee) only in lowercase letters. I have heard similar questions several times before. I did have a reason when I started writing it that way, but after people asked me about it, I began to think about it more clearly.
In life, there are people you never want to meet again, and there are people you can never forget. There is someone I would like to meet again if I ever had the chance. I met him when I was 26 and studying at NYU. He was from Colombia and had come to study music. One day, after class, I was waiting for the subway to go home. He was standing nearby and suddenly spoke to me.
“I know you,” he said.
I was shocked. I never imagined a tall, handsome man—he looked like the actor Jake Gyllenhaal with pale skin and sad gray eyes—would speak to me first. I felt shy and wanted to hide behind a pillar, but he laughed and spoke gently.
“I live in the building next to your apartment.”
A neighbor! And from the same university! And he spoke to me first! My heart was racing, and I didn’t know what to say. He was quiet and sensitive, and not long after, he left for Europe. Before he left, I asked him, “Why are you leaving before finishing school?”
He answered calmly:
“I just want to live as a new person in a new place. And then move again and become someone else, forgetting the life before.”
Even though it was long ago, I never forgot his words. I wonder sometimes, “Is he still wandering in foreign places?” I wish I could search for him online, but although I remember his first name, I forgot his last name because it was hard to pronounce.
Unlike him, who wanted to live in places where no one knew him, I settled in New York. But in my own way, I also wanted to live differently from others. A different life, something quietly moving inside me, something small that matches my small presence. I wanted to live softly, almost invisible, like a small name written quietly.
I have always preferred things that appear and disappear, things that are faint rather than bold and loud. Because of that, I chose etching as my art major, creating images with a sharp needle on metal plates. I like delicate, faint lines that seem to tremble. Maybe that is why I use lowercase letters for my name—it matches who I am.