An artist's child

People are often curious about where artists come from and how they first started making art.
But according to South African painter Marlene Dumas, what really matters is not where you begin, but where you end up. She once said that everything between the beginning and the end is just shadows.

I went to see her exhibition, “Measuring Your Own Grave,” at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York with my child. Dumas once said that “the canvas is the coffin of the subject you’re painting.” It was a powerful idea.

While my husband and I looked at the paintings, our child began to draw too. If we used brushes, the child wanted brushes. If we used colors, the child demanded colors and painted wildly. At home, in restaurants, on napkins, receipts, even on shopping bags—my child drew everywhere. I always carried materials, but even without them, my child found a way to draw.

At first, the drawings were simple lines. Then shapes—circles, squares. Soon, dinosaurs appeared, then sharks under the sea, then tigers in the forest. The soft lines turned rough, and the drawings became full of tanks and airplanes. My child made loud sound effects—explosions, gunfire—while drawing dramatic war scenes. I never taught my child how to draw. I never asked, “What are you drawing?” The only thing I did was place different tools nearby—crayons, pencils, paper.

As my child got older and had more opinions, we even made drawings together. My child would doodle on the edge of my own work, making it a kind of collaboration. During the teenage years, the drawings turned into comics. Eventually, my child was accepted into an art high school. Since the child had been drawing from the moment they could hold a pencil, it felt natural to expect that art would become their future.

But then one day, my child said:
“Art is something you can do without going to school for it. It’s not a big deal. I’m not going to the art high school.”
“Won’t you regret it later?” I asked.

“Never. I hate artists. They’re all just losers who care more about looking cool than doing anything real.”

Honestly, it wasn’t completely wrong.

Instead of studying art, my child chose a college major that had nothing to do with it.
But once at university, they began taking electives in drawing, photography, and even minored in film. They started posting their own drawings on a blog, sometimes staying up all night to work on them.

One day, I heard something surprising—and a little exciting—from my child:
“I think being an artist might be one of the coolest jobs ever.”
But instead of feeling happy, I found myself saying,

“So what are you going to do about it? Are you saying you want to change your major now?”

“No,” my child replied. “I’m just saying it’s cool.”

Now, watching my child figure things out, I wonder: Was Marlene Dumas right all along? Is it really not about how or where you start, but how and where you end up that truly matters? Maybe it’s time to let my child have another chance—and trust the path they choose.

Good Luck!

'가도 되는 것일까? 꼭 가야 할까? 가는 것이 낫겠지.'

대학 졸업 후 자주 만나던 세 명의 친구 중 둘은 이미 결혼했다. 하나 남은 친구마저 결혼할 사람을 만나느라 바빴다. 친구들의 시간은 바삐 화기애애한 소리를 내고 흘렀지만, 나는 엘리베이터 안에 혼자 남아 어느 층의 버튼을 눌러야 할지 망설이는 듯, 정지된 시간 속에서 헤맸다.

누군가 가지 말라고 잡았다면 굳이 오라는 사람 없는 뉴욕행 비행기를 타지 않았을지도 모른다. 마지막 하나 남은 친구의 결혼식이 끝난 어느 화창한 늦여름 날, 나는 청치마에 하얀 블라우스를 입고 비행기에 올랐다. 엄마의 손을 꼭 잡고 김포공항까지 가는 내내 울던 울음은 비행기를 타고서도 그칠 줄 몰랐다.

차만 타면 멀미하는 나, 처음 타는 비행기는 차보다 멀미가 더 심할 것이라는 생각이 들자 울음을 뚝 멈췄다. 스튜어디스에게 멀미약을 달라고 하려니 노스웨스트 비행기를 탄 나는 ‘멀미’가 영어로 뭐지? 영어를 해야 한다는 생각에 정말로 멀미가 왔다.

한영사전을 뒤져보니 ‘feel vomit’. 스튜어디스에게 사전에서 찾은 대로 말했지만, 나의 말을 알아듣지 못했다. 사전의 영어 구절에 줄을 춰 줘서 간신히 약 한 알을 받았다. 약을 먹어야 하는데 ‘water’ 하니 알아듣지 못했다. 혹시나 해서 ‘orange juice’ 했다. 그러나 물도 오렌지 주스도 얻어 마시지 못했다. 또다시 사전에 줄을 그어 보여주기도 민망해서 멀미가 오기 전에 무작정 약을 입에 넣었다.

한잠 자고 나면 도착하겠지. 잠을 청하려는데 물이 없어 입안에서 씹어 먹은 약의 효능이 엉뚱하게 밀려올 줄이야! 혀가 마비되는 듯 감각이 없어지다 식도 주위까지 얼얼해져 왔다. 그야말로 환장할 지경이었다. 스튜어디스를 또다시 불러 그 긴 사연을 영어로 말할 수도 없고다 약 기운에 늘어질 대로 늘어져 마치 살기를 포기한 듯 눈을 감고 비몽사몽을 헤맸다.

부드러운 손이 나의 어깨를 두드려 눈을 떴다. 따라오라며 손짓했다. 일등칸으로 데려가는 게 아닌가. 그 자리에선 힘든 영어를 하지 않아도 신발도, 눈 가리게도 주스도 계속 가져다주며 편히 쉬란다. 가져다주는 대로 먹고 마시고 누워 시간이 지나니 마비되어 얼얼했던 입안의 감각이 되돌왔다.

비행기가 시에틀에 도착했다. 일어나 내리려는데 잠깐 앉아 기다리란다. 스튜어디스는 나를 입국 수속 하는 곳으로 데려갔다. 시에틀에서 입국 수속을 마치고 짐을 뉴욕 가는 비행기에 실어줬다. 비행기를 갈아타기 전 나를 의자에 앉혀 놓고 내 두 손을 꼭 잡고 기도해 줬다. 영어로 하는 기도라 알아들을 수는 없지만 ‘아멘’하는 소리는 알아듣고 나도 ‘아멘’ 했다.

헤어지기 전, 내 얼굴을 빤히 내려다보며 걱정하는 스튜어디스의 파란 눈엔 물기가 어른거렸다. 당황하는 나를 꼭 안아주며 “Good Luck.”하고는 가라며 손짓했다. 내가 미국에 와서 처음 알아들은 영어는 천사 같은 스튜어디스의 ‘Good Luck’ 이였다. 미국에 살며 무수히 많은 사람이 나를 도와주고 빌어준 ‘Good Luck’이 지금의 나를 있게 했다. 

My First 'Good Luck'

"Should I go? Do I really have to? Well, maybe it's for the best."

After graduating from college, two of the three close friends I used to hang out with got married. Even the last remaining friend became busy meeting someone to marry. While my friends' lives moved forward quickly with happy, cheerful sounds, I felt completely frozen in time. I felt like a person left alone in an elevator, staring at the panel, not knowing which floor button to press.

If anyone had held my hand and asked me to stay, I might not have gotten on that plane to New York—a place where no one was waiting for me. On a bright, late summer day, right after my last friend’s wedding, I finally boarded the plane wearing a denim skirt and a white blouse. I had cried the entire way to Gimpo Airport while holding my mother's hand tightly, and my tears wouldn’t stop even after I sat down in my seat.

I was the kind of person who got terrible motion sickness just from riding in a car. But suddenly, the thought struck me: “An airplane is my first time flying. What if the sickness is much worse than in a car?” Curiously, that thought made my tears stop instantly. I needed to ask the flight attendant for motion sickness medicine, but I was on an American airline (Northwest), and I couldn't remember the English word for "motion sickness." As the pressure to speak English hit me, my stomach actually started to turn, and I began to feel sick.

I quickly flipped through my Korean-English dictionary and found the words "feel vomit." I called the flight attendant over and said what I found, but she couldn't understand my accent. In the end, I pointed to the words in the dictionary and drew a line under them with my finger. Finally, she handed me a single pill. Now I needed water to swallow it, but when I said "Water," she looked confused again. Just in case, I tried saying "Orange juice," but I couldn't get water or juice. Feeling too embarrassed to point to the dictionary again, I just put the pill in my mouth and chewed it before the sickness got worse.

“I’ll just sleep, and I’ll be there when I wake up,” I thought. I tried to fall asleep, but the medicine I had chewed without water started to affect me in a completely strange way. My tongue began to feel numb, losing all sensation, and then my throat became painfully numb and tingly. It was absolutely terrible. I couldn't call the flight attendant back and explain this long story in English. Helpless and completely drained by the medicine, I closed my eyes and drifted in and out of consciousness.

Then, I woke up to a gentle tapping on my shoulder. The flight attendant was motioning for me to follow her. To my surprise, she led me all the way to First Class. In that space, I didn't have to force myself to speak difficult English anymore. She brought me soft slippers and an eye mask, and kept bringing me juice, gesturing for me to rest comfortably. After eating, drinking, and lying down for a while, the numbness in my mouth slowly disappeared.

Finally, the plane landed in Seattle for a layover. As I stood up to get off, the flight attendant came over and told me to wait for just a moment. Then, she personally walked me all the way through immigration. Thanks to her, I got through the complicated process smoothly, and she even made sure my luggage was safely transferred to my connecting flight to New York. Before I boarded my next plane, she sat me down on a chair in the waiting area, took both of my hands in hers, and began to pray. She prayed in fast English, so I couldn't understand the words, but I clearly heard the word "Amen" at the end. So, I softly whispered, "Amen," too.

Right before we said goodbye, she looked down at my face with deep worry, and I could see tears glistening in her blue eyes. As I stood there, deeply moved and overwhelmed, she pulled me into a tight hug. Then, with a warm wave, she said, "Good Luck."

The very first English phrase that truly touched my heart after arriving in America was that "Good Luck" from a stranger—a flight attendant who acted like an angel to a lonely international student. Looking back, during my long life in America, so many people have helped me and wished me well. It is all of those warm "Good Lucks" gathered together that made me who I am today.

'희망' 이라는 이름의 허리케인

끝이 보이지 않는 울퉁불퉁한 길을 걸었다. 지친 다리를 쉴 만한 곳을 찾아 주위를 두리번거리며. 저 멀리 초록색 종이 뭉치가 떨어져 있는 것이 아닌가. 혹시 돈뭉치가 아닐까 하는 희망에 마음이 바빠졌다. 가까이 다가갈수록 돈이라는 확신이 들었다. 그러나 뒤를 바짝 따라오는 한 사람이 신경 쓰였다. 이 사람이 돈을 줍기 전에 내가 먼저 움켜 줘야 한다는 조급한 마음에 걸음은 더욱 빨라졌다. 

드디어 돈뭉치를 내 손에 움켜쥐었고 양쪽 호주머니에 마구 찔러 넣었다. 흘끔 뒤돌아보니 바짝 뒤따라오던 사람은 떨어진 돈뭉치를 보지 못했는지 아쉬운 표정이 없다. 나는 주머니에 두둑한 돈의 촉감을 만지며 아무 일도 없었다는 듯 가던 길을 염화시중의 미소를 띠며 천천히 걸었다.

“치잌 꽝” 새벽 공기를 가르는 듯한 날카로운 근처 바디샆 찌꺼기를 수거 해가는 소리에 잠에서 깼다. 아! 달러 뭉치의 진한 초록색이 어찌나 선명하던지!

‘반가운 소식은 아니더라도 골치 아픈 편지가 없기’를 바라며 매일 나는 편지함을 연다. 심각한 얼굴로 편지를 살피다 안도의 숨을 내쉬며 버릴 편지는 재빨리 버리고 내야 할 빌을 처리한다. 내가 바라는 것은 ‘평화로웠던 어제와 같은 오늘’ ‘이대로’만을 유지해주는 하루하루가 있기를 바랄 뿐이다.

한때는 편지함에 쌓인 빌 때문에 빌빌 데며 어디론가 먼 곳으로 도망치고 싶었다. 해남으로 갈까? 누군가 해남이 땅끝마을이라던데, '땅끝까지 빌을 받으러 쫓아오지는 않겠지.' 하는 우스개 생각에서. 아니면 통일교를 믿어볼까? 통일교를 믿으면 기초생활은 보장해준다던데. 안정돼가는 지금도 이민 초기의 초조함에서 벗어나지 못하는 것이 이민자의 숙명인가 보다.

오늘은 또 무엇이 나를 노리고 있을까 긴장하며 편지함을 열었다. 주황색 종이 한 장이 눈에 띈다. ‘영화 촬영을 할 수 있는 스튜디오가 있으면 연락 바람.’ 뭔가 심상치 않은 돈 냄새에 휴지통에 꾸겨 버렸던 종이를 다시 주워들었다.

어젯밤 꿈이 현실이 되는 건 아닌가? 연락했다. 근처에 있었는지 금방 왔다. 스튜디오 실내를 연방 사진기로 눌러대더니 매니저와 상의하고 연락해주겠단다. 매니저와 실내 디자이너가 곧바로 왔다. 실내를 약간 바꾸어야 하므로 준비하는데 하루, 찍느라 하루, 원위치로 돌려놓느라 하루, 모두 3일이 걸린단다. 스튜디오 사용료를 제시하는데 생각보다 액수가 많아 눈을 어디에 고정해야 할지 당황하며 쿨 한 척하느라 애매한 천장만 쳐다봤다.

계약만 맺으면 간단하게 거금이 손에 쥐어진다. 신이 나서 일단 늘 마셔대는 와인 한 박스를 드려놨다. 와인 한잔하며 생각지도 않았던 적지 않은 돈이 들어오면 어디에 쓸까 요리조리 머리를 굴려본다

우선 친구가 말한 가격이 좋고 서비스 좋다는 피부관리를 하러 갈 것이다. 돌보지 않아 생긴 기미와 주근깨를 없애고 처진 눈을 올려볼까? 오랫동안 티브이 없이 살았는데 이 기회에 납작한 티브이를 하나 장만하자. 그리고는 방콕에 가 있는 작은놈을 찾아갔다가 땅끝마을에 한번 들려봐! 머릿속은 하루에도 수십 번씩 그 돈으로 무얼 할지를 연구하느라 분주했다.

계약하고 거머쥔 수표를 은행에 입금하고 집에 돌아왔다. ‘아이고머니나’ 그 돈 액수만큼 들어갈 일이 두꺼비처럼 턱 하니 집에서 기다리고 있을줄이야! 이래서들 생각지도 않은 돈이 생기면 늘 써야 할 구석이 따라온다고들 하나보다.

하늘을 올려다보니 뭉게구름이 유난히도 뭉개고 있었다. 저 잡히지 않는 뭉게구름을 잡으려 애쓰는 동안 거센 파도가 밀려와 와인 한 박스만 남겨놓고 나의 희망을 몽땅 휩쓸어 갔다! 

A hurricane named Hope

I was walking down a long, bumpy road, looking around for a place to rest my tired legs. Then, in the distance, I spotted something—was that a bundle of green paper? My heart started to race. Could it be money? The closer I got, the more sure I became—it was money. But I noticed someone walking close behind me, which made me nervous. I needed to grab it before they saw it. My steps quickened. Finally, I snatched up the bundle and stuffed it into both pockets as quickly as I could. I glanced behind me—the person following didn’t seem to have seen it. No disappointment on their face. Feeling the weight of the cash in my pockets, I walked away slowly with a calm smile, pretending nothing had happened. Then—bang!—I woke up. The sharp, early morning noise of a garbage truck collecting trash from a nearby body shop jolted me awake. Oh no… That thick green bundle of dollars had looked so real in my dream!

Every day, I check the mailbox, hoping there’s no bad news—even just wishing for no stressful letters. I skim through the mail with a serious face, sigh in relief, toss away junk, and take care of the bills. All I wish for is a peaceful, uneventful day. Just like yesterday. Just like now.

There was a time when the bills piling up in the mailbox made me feel desperate—like I wanted to run away. I even joked about moving to Haenam, Korea’s “end of the land.” Surely no one would chase me there to collect bills! Or maybe I should join the Unification Church—they say they’ll at least take care of your basic needs. Even now, as my life stabilizes, I can’t seem to shake the anxiety from my early immigrant days. Maybe that’s just part of being an immigrant.

Today again, I opened the mailbox with nervous hands. There it was—a bright orange paper.
“Looking for a space to film a movie. Contact if you have a studio.”
Something about it smelled like money. I pulled it out of the trash where I’d tossed it and looked again. Could my dream be coming true?

I called the number. They showed up quickly. Someone came and took lots of pictures of the studio. Then the manager arrived and said he’d get back to me. Not long after, the manager returned with an interior designer. They explained the plan: one day to prep, one day to shoot, one day to put everything back. Three days in total. When they offered the payment, it was more than I expected. I didn’t even know where to look—I just stared awkwardly at the ceiling, trying to look cool.

Once the contract was signed, the money was basically mine. I got so excited, I immediately bought a case of wine. While sipping a glass, I started dreaming about how I’d use this unexpected cash. First, I’d go to the skincare place my friend recommended—great prices, great service. I’d get rid of these sunspots and freckles and maybe lift my drooping eyelids. I’d also finally buy that flat-screen TV. And maybe I’d go visit my younger son in Bangkok. On the way, why not stop by that “end of the land” town I used to joke about? My head was full of plans—dozens of ideas a day about what I’d do with the money.

After depositing the check at the bank, I came home.
“Oh my gosh.”
Waiting for me at the house were unexpected expenses—almost exactly equal to the money I had just received. So this is why people say that when unexpected money comes in, an unexpected expense follows.

I looked up at the sky, and the clouds seemed puffier than ever—like they were mocking me. While I was busy reaching for those unreachable clouds, a big wave came crashing in and washed away all my dreams…
…leaving only that case of wine behind.

부전여전

“자 우리 싸우지 말고 즐겁게 여행하자고요.” 
새벽 6시에 언니 내외를 차에 태우면서 내가 한 말이다. 

“넌 갈수록 아버지를 어쩌면 똑 닮니. 말하는 것도 똑같네!”

한국에 나갈 때마다 친정아버지는 나와 언니를 데리고 여행을 떠난다. 

“지금부터 돈은 내가 다 될 테니 너희는 먹고 싶은 것 실컷 먹고 싸우지 말고 즐겁게 여행하자.”

그러나 사소한 말다툼은 항상 있게 마련이다. 삼대독자, 별 볼 일 없는 아들을 두신 우리 아버지. 아들 이야기만 나오면 

“자식 잘못 키운 죄인이 뭐 할 말이 있냐.”

의기소침해 한다. 그러나 본인이 반대한 결혼을 고집한 언니가 한마디 할라치면 

“그러는 너는, 그래 네 아들 키 커서 좋겠다.” 

언니의 아들, 본인의 외손자도 별 볼 일 없다며 한마디 내뱉으신다. 

“이 늙은 아비는 너 여행 데리고 다니며 맛있는 것 사주는데 넌 돈 벌어서 하나님께는 열심히 바치면서 어째 내게는 아무것도 없냐? 하나님께 공들이는 것 십 분의 일만이라도 나에게도 해봐라.” 

잘 참는 언니도 종교 얘기엔 발끈해서 

“그러는 아버지는 왜?” 

하려다 꾹 참는다.

키 작은 언니는 대학을 졸업하자마자 뭐가 그리 급했는지 결혼했다. 아버지의 반대를 무릅쓰고 맞은 신랑은 키 크고 잘생겼다. 다행히 조카들은 형부를 닮아 키 크고 인물이 훤하다. 반대한 결혼이라 아버지는 달갑지 않은 듯 

“키 커 봐 짜 올려다보느라 불편만 하지 어디 쓸모 있냐.”

우리 형제 모두 미국에 왔다. 언니는 맏딸이라는 책임으로 아버지가 돌아가시면 오겠다고 기다리다 젊은 시기를 놓쳤다. 언니보다 더 건강하고 생활력이 강한 친정아버지는 

“오히려 네가 잘사는 나라 미국에 가는 것이 나를 도와주는 거다. 그러니 하루라도 빨리 가서 잘살아라.”

비수 같은 한마디에 언니도 한국을 떠났다.

나이는 언니이긴 하지만 미국생활에서는 내가 언니다. 처음 미국 와 자리 잡을 때, 시도 때도 없이 물어보고 부탁하니 잘하다가도 기분이 좋지 않은 날은 성질을 내곤 했다. 

“언니! 그렇게 새벽기도까지 열심히 다니며 믿는 하나님은 어디 가고 왜 허구한 날 나만 붙잡고 늘어지는 거야. 하나님보고 해달라고 기도해.” 

“넌 어쩌면 그렇게 아버지처럼 말하니.” 

언니가 울먹이면 마음이 약해진 나는 

“알았어. 알았다니까.”

아버지의 독설을 피해 미국에 온 언니는 나에게 또 걸렸다. 언니의 운명이 안 됐다 싶어 도와주다가도 아버지를 빼다박은 내 성질이 어디 갈까. 언니는 나의 독설로 힘들고 나는 언니의 이민생활 자리 잡는 것 도와주느라 힘들었다. 그래도 언니가 있어 좋다. 돌아가신 엄마를 보는듯하다. 언니가 해주는 음식 맛은 엄마의 음식 맛과 같다. 내가 아무리 성질을 부리고 난리를 쳐도 엄마처럼 다 참는다.

언니와 함께 올려다보는 한적한 시골 하늘에서 별들이 쏟아지며 우리 자매를 반긴다. 이렇게 언니를 데리고 여행하는 것으로 나의 죄를 진심으로 사과하고 싶다.

Like father, like daughter

"Come on, let’s not fight and just enjoy the trip."
That’s what I said as I picked up my sister and her husband in the car at 6 a.m.
"You’re becoming more and more like Dad. You even talk like him!" my sister replied.

Every time I visit Korea, our father insists on taking my sister and me on a trip.
"From now on, I’ll pay for everything. Eat whatever you want. Just don’t fight, and enjoy yourselves."
But no matter how well it starts, small arguments always seem to creep in.

Our father, who had only one son and not a particularly accomplished one, always gets gloomy when his son comes up in conversation.

“What right does a father who failed to raise his son have to say anything?” 

he says, full of regret. But when my sister—who had insisted on marrying someone our father had opposed—tries to speak, he snaps,

“Well, look at your son. Sure, he’s tall. Good for you.”

He always makes these little jabs, even about his grandson. Then he turns to my sister again:
"This old father takes you on trips and feeds you good food, but you’re out there making money and giving it all to God. How about giving just one-tenth of that effort to me?"
Even my patient sister can’t hold back when it comes to religion. She starts to reply, “And what about you—” but bites her tongue and holds it in.

My sister, who’s short in height, married in a hurry right after college. Despite our father’s strong opposition, her husband was tall and handsome. Thankfully, her kids inherited their dad’s height and good looks. But because of that opposition, our father always seemed a bit cold about it.
“What good is being tall? All you do is strain your neck looking up,” he would mutter.

All of us siblings eventually moved to the U.S. As the eldest daughter, my sister had felt it was her duty to stay behind until our father passed, but in doing so, she lost her younger years.
Stronger and healthier than any of us, our father finally told her,
“Honestly, you’d be helping me more by going to a better country like America and living well. So just go.”
His words hit like a knife—and she finally left Korea.

She’s older than me, but when it comes to life in America, I’m the older one. When she first arrived, she’d ask me for help constantly, and though I usually didn’t mind, on tough days I’d lose my temper.
“Sis, you’re always going to early morning prayer—where’s your God now? Why are you clinging to me all the time? Go pray to Him for help!”
And she would say, almost crying,
“You really do sound just like Dad.”
Then I’d feel bad.
“Okay, okay… I get it.”

She had left Korea to escape Dad’s harsh words—only to run into me. I felt sorry for her and helped, but truthfully, I’ve inherited Dad’s sharp tongue. She suffered from my outbursts, and I suffered from helping her get settled. Still, I’m glad she’s here. She reminds me of Mom.
The food she makes tastes just like Mom’s. No matter how much I snap or throw a tantrum, she puts up with me—just like Mom did.

When we look up together at the quiet country sky, stars pour down like they’re welcoming us.
Maybe by taking my sister on this trip, I can truly say I’m sorry for everything.