I used to love oil paintings. 
Although it was well-received by people, the problem of originality could not 
be reached with oil painting. 
I looked for countless methods and techniques, but I came to the conclusion 
that it is impossible to find originality with that degree of change, and even 
now, that thought remains the same.
 

When traces of someone’s attempts a hundred or two hundred years ago 
were found, they were relentlessly discarded. 
Because it makes no sense to follow others’ accomplishments.
‘There is no more. 
Even though I was trying to find what I didn’t have, I had a hard time, so it 
would be better to give up at this point.’

‘God, help me to paint pictures that cannot be seen in this world!’ When I no 
longer had the energy to work before bed, I lay down and prayed.
 

One day, when I was going up and down the mountain, a red flower bloomed 
a little away. 
That’s when the frost is about to fall. 
The plant is frosted and its head is bowed, which is weird. 
When I went, it wasn’t a flower, it was a lump of soil.

At that moment,’ 
This is what I was looking for!’ 
The thoughts of thinking flow through endlessly. 
An electric current flowed all over my body.
I just jumped home with a chunk of red dirt.
I don’t run. 
My personality is optimistic, so I walk in rain or snow.
That day I ran Pababak. 

I put red soil right in front of the oil painting. 
Compared to the color of oil paintings, the emotions are very different.