#childhood-memory

#childhood-memory

He took it, managed to decipher my terrible penmanship, and wrote me a reply. I didn't ask him weighty questions about politics, I think I probably asked his favorite color. People's favorite color was a major interest for me when I was eleven. He wrote some questions for me, (perhaps also my favorite color, which was blue.) and soon we were in a conversation, the kind of sweet conversation where a thoughtful grown-up pays attention to a child.

cardiganed grandmothers eating roadside picnics beside Morris Minors, pale men sunbathing in shoes and socks on stripy deckchairs, Raleigh Choppers and caged budgerigars and faux leather pouffes I feel a wave of what can't properly be called nostalgia, because the last thing I'd want is to return to that age and those places where I was often profoundly unhappy and from which I'd have been desperate to escape if escape had been a possibility.

When I was seven years old, something happened that I still think about today. It was in Astana, Kazakhstan - back then it was called Akmola. After school, I would walk home with my stepbrother, his two friends, and my best friend. It was a quick 10-minute walk, and we usually stopped by her apartment on the way. One rainy day, she invited us in to wait out the rain.

A selection of work from artist Yeon Yeoin's latest solo exhibition with DIA contemporary. Born and based in Seoul, Yeon majored in Psychology and Creative Visual Arts at Sogang University. Her work is an exploration of emotion through surreal imagery. Using a wide range of techniques, from pen and ink to digital painting, Yeon creates a unique world inspired by her personal experiences and filled with original characters that reflect difficult-to-define emotional states.