36,500 Dots Series 2019 - 2023

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​​​​In 2018, I had to undergo wrist surgery after overusing it, and the doctor advised me to stop working and take a break for a while. I was told that if I continued, I might lose the use of my wrist within five years. The MRI revealed a rare condition—avascular necrosis—that was destroying the lunate bone. Until then, I had been running without pause, but when I finally stopped, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Without work, time suddenly felt slower, more spacious. During that unexpected pause, health became my foremost concern, so I made daily exercise a routine until the day of my surgery. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to work out afterward, I became even more committed to it.

 

In the sweltering heat of early August, someone must have canceled their surgery, because as a patient on the waiting list, I suddenly received a call a week before. Though startled, I decided not to put it off any longer and went ahead with the operation.

 

After the surgery, recovery came first. I took care of myself with a healthy diet, while also being cared for by my mother—something I hadn’t experienced since childhood. She tied my hair and helped me get dressed, joking that it felt like playing with a doll. I realized that it was the first time since birth that I had spent so much time so closely with her. Having lived alone in the city since my youth, I had long forgotten the warmth of family. Except for the few hours I spent teaching art classes, I stayed by her side—going to Dongdaemun fabric market as she had wished, watching television together, and simply resting.

 

A friend once told me that since the human life expectancy has now stretched to 100 years, we live about 36,500 days in total. I used to manage my schedule obsessively, imagining each day as a dot, and those dots connecting to form the line of a lifetime. That image drove me to control every single day with intensity. But after being forced to stop due to my wrist injury, I let go of that obsession. When my friend spoke of 36,500 days, I suddenly envisioned an image made up of 36,500 dots.

 

At that time, I longed to work again, but I also wanted to break free from my earlier approach of translating thoughts on life directly into planned concepts. I wanted to express myself more freely. That is how 36,500 Dots began.

 

For this piece, I drew dots one by one with masking fluid, making sure no two were alike. Then I sprayed the surface white, and later peeled away the dots to reveal the colors beneath. It took me over eight months to complete, and the process was physically challenging—my back often hurt from the repetitive work. Yet, through that repetition, I intuitively experienced the dots as ages—20, 30, 40, 50, up to 100. Seeing their positions emerge on the canvas fascinated me. This process became a way of contemplating life and time itself.

 

For me, this work is deeply meaningful. It reminds me to accept each moment with humility, and it has become a bridge leading to future works. I am grateful for the experience. Sometimes, slowing the pace of life is not a bad thing. Today, we rush so fiercely toward our goals and obligations that we often pass by life’s quiet beauty without noticing it.

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U Ah Young, October 2019