In September of 2017, I was staying in Gran Canaria for my exhibition at the museum. For collecting materials, I visited the ruined site of San Martin Hospital. When I stepped in the room at the top floor, a fine view came into my sight. That was a view of the hill loved and painted by a young painter Jorge Oramas who died here in 1935. My body that came from somewhere on the earth, breathed the memories left in the place and stayed with me wherever I went next. And then I came back here like a migratory bird.
While moving to the next place one after another, I sometimes experienced strange feelings of forgetting who I am when I awoke in the morning. My memories for being myself might also be the memories of someone else as well. Moving in time and space, meeting and leaving over and over again, I cut out memories from my sight and take them away with me. And then I came back here again to give them back to this island through my artworks.
I was looking at the view from the room. No one steps in there anymore. The only sight of long ago was there. I cut out the time from the picture, that was once alive there, and released it like a bird. Invisible memories are still staying there. Not being here is a proof of being somewhere else. Flying beyond time and space as the window was taken away. Even if the body was not there, the spirit never disappears. Breathing somewhere in this world.