We accumulate countless digital photographs, but in ordinary days there is rarely enough space in life to pull out those older images. Yet when a moment comes that requires me to return to an earlier time, I often set aside a quiet hour and look through them.

I move through them with a mix of emotions — regret, longing, affection, sorrow, and gratitude — feeling all of it at once.

I found an old photograph of my first son when he was very young. He is pictured with his closest friends, and the image shows how much joy they shared together, as well as how bittersweet their parting must have felt before we moved to the United States. The photo was taken as a keepsake just before our departure.
Yulian, a Russian boy, was my son’s best friend. He often came to our home, and my son often visited his. Their grandmother and mother were close with me as well. Yulian played the piano beautifully.
I now have a student who looks remarkably like Yulian, and perhaps because of that, I find myself thinking of him often.

This photograph was taken in Germany, during a small recital we held with Korean friends we met at a Korean church there. We gathered in a quiet French village, in a house donated by an artist as a gallery space, and created a modest performance together. When living abroad, Koreans often feel even closer to one another. For reasons I cannot fully explain, we met in a faraway country, bound by a sense of shared circumstance.
Some of those relationships have continued beautifully to this day, while others have naturally drifted apart. There are always reasons, and at times, there may be none at all. Looking back, I blame no one. Life in a foreign land keeps everyone on edge, always in survival mode. People become cautious with one another, and even so, conflicts can still arise—because everyone is trying, everyone is tired, and everyone is lonely. I experienced such moments both in Germany and in the United States. There were things I could not understand at the time, yet with distance, even those become memories.
Just as I keep the photographs taken with people I could not fully understand, holding onto them out of gratitude rather than erasing them, I hope they, too, might feel the same. And among the many photos, there are also those who offered me endless kindness, care, and encouragement. For them, I am always grateful—only sorry that I did not express that gratitude more often.

In the photo is Wei, a Chinese sculptor with whom I often exhibited my work. She is an exceptionally talented artist, as well as a remarkable and strong mother. Through her, I came to learn more about China and gain a deeper understanding of its culture. She continues to live and work in Germany, carrying forward her artistic life with the same dedication and strength.

This photograph was taken in front of the first apartment I found in Germany. At that time, nearly eighty percent of people lived in rental housing, and buildings like this were shared by several families. The apartment was quiet and clean, with a sense of order that I still remember.
The owners of my unit were a German couple: the wife, originally from Poland, and her husband, an American. I plan to write more about them later, because the kindness they showed to someone far from home was extraordinary—far more generous than I could have ever expected. I carry deep gratitude for them in my heart to this day.

This photograph was taken when I first arrived in Germany. It was January 2006, and since it was winter, snow was falling. Looking at this picture brings back the emotions I felt at that time. Curiously, when I look through old photos, I often struggle to remember the exact places or the food I ate. But the feelings from those moments remain vivid and precise.
Whenever I revisit those memories, I remind myself to live each moment with more joy. Because the photos taken during times when I was sad, wounded, or living in darkness still carry the weight of that pain even now. I often wonder how different those memories might have been if my heart had been lighter then.

1. Lincoln Memorial – A Pause Before History

This trip, partly to prepare for journey, was more than sightseeing—it was a moment to mark the beginning of a new chapter. Washington D.C. carried an orderly, quiet atmosphere steeped in history. Standing at the Lincoln Memorial, my son read the Gettysburg Address aloud, and his voice, trembling with emotion, reminded me of the enduring power of language, memory, and hope.

Link: Visiting the Lincoln Memorial, Part 1: A Pause Before History

2. National Gallery – A Practical Look at Masterpieces

The neoclassical architecture of the West Building at the National Gallery felt like a temple of art. Surrounded by masterpieces from Leonardo da Vinci, Monet, and more, I was struck by the serene reverence the space inspired. The fact that admission was completely free made the experience even more remarkable. I left with the desire to revisit each piece again and again.

Link: Visiting the National Gallery: Part 2, A Practical Look at Masterpieces and Museum Access

3. The Space Museum – A Journey Through Flight and Beyond

The Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum is free to enter but requires advance ticket download, and its vast collection could easily take more than a day to explore. Highlights included the Apollo 11 Command Module Columbia, Neil Armstrong’s hand cast, early flying machines, the evolution of spacesuits, the Blue Origin capsule, and even an R2-D2 model from Star Wars. Each exhibit vividly illustrated humanity’s curiosity, daring, and boundless imagination.

Link: Washington D.C. Trip – Part 3: The Space Museum

4. The George Washington University Law School Visit

Visiting The George Washington University Law School offered a firsthand look at its beautiful campus and academic atmosphere. From the Stuart Hall building to the Jacob Burns Moot Court and the main law school entrance, each space reflected the tradition and ambition that shape future lawyers.
​
Link: Washington D.C. Trip – Part 4: Visiting the George Washington University Law School

​This Washington, D.C., visit included a tour of George Washington University Law School.
Passing through the campus' iconic gates, I toured Stuart Hall, the Law School buildings, and the Jacob Burns Moot Court, where students practice trial law, immersing myself in the school's history and academic atmosphere.

​Passing through George Washington University's iconic iron arch gate, a refreshing tree-lined path unfolded before me. As I walked along this path, I felt the calm air and academic atmosphere typical of a university campus, even in the heart of Washington, D.C.

​Stuart Hall, with its striking red brick exterior, exudes a sense of timelessness while also exuding a sense of solidity. Standing before its doors, I pictured countless students and scholars passing through over the years, building their knowledge.

​Standing before the sign reading "The George Washington University Law School," written in white letters on a blue background, I sensed that this was the starting point for those pursuing their dreams of becoming lawyers. Home to the Office of Admissions, the Office of Financial Aid, and the Student Support Center, this is also the gateway for incoming freshmen.

​The words "Jacob Burns Moot Court" are emblazoned in gold on the heavy wooden door. As expected of a place where courtroom practice and mock trials take place, standing before the door, my shoulders straightened involuntarily.

​Opening the door and stepping inside, the interior unfolds like a replica of an actual courtroom. Equipped with a judge's bench, attorneys' bench, and even a jury box, it provides a vivid environment for students to experience courtroom life. This classroom, simultaneously a stage, has undoubtedly been the setting for countless law students to practice their arguments and debates.

​The law school building, a harmonious blend of red brick and white stone, exudes a classic yet majestic presence. The white inscription at the entrance, engraved with "The George Washington University Law School," sparkles in the sunlight, seeming to symbolize the school's tradition and authority.

​My time in Washington, D.C. wasn't just a simple journey; it was a time to encounter history, scholarship, and the future.
​
My visit to George Washington University Law School allowed me to experience the passion and dreams of law students, and the depth of knowledge and culture felt throughout the city will remain in my memory for a long time.

​The National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., is one of the most visited museums in the world, offering a glimpse into the history of aviation and spaceflight.

Upon entering, life-size aircraft fill the ceiling and exhibition spaces, impressing visitors with its sheer scale.
The "America by Air" exhibit traces the evolution of American aviation, from early aircraft to modern passenger aircraft.
​
In addition to aircraft, the museum features a diverse collection of aerospace artifacts, including rockets, space probes, and spacesuits, offering a captivating experience for both children and adults.
Being part of the Smithsonian Institution, admission is free, and its vast collection is so vast that a full day is not enough to fully explore.

​The below  is Apollo 11's Command Module, Columbia.
This is the very module that carried astronauts Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins back to Earth in 1969, the first human to land on the moon.
The scorching and discoloration on its exterior surface clearly demonstrate the extreme heat and friction experienced during re-entry into the atmosphere.
It's incredibly moving that three astronauts completed their historic mission and returned safely within this small space.
Seeing it firsthand, you're reminded of the grandeur of space exploration, as well as the remarkable feats of human courage and technology.

​The exhibit in the photo is a plaster hand cast of Neil Armstrong's left hand.
It was modeled after the "neutral position" of the hand for the creation of spacesuit gloves, and his hand shape is preserved intact.
Because I draw, I'm particularly drawn to the shape and structure of the hand. The length of the knuckles, the curvature of the palm, the direction of the wrinkles—all of these reveal a person's personality and the marks of their professional life.
Since "hands" will be a major topic in my class this semester, I've been spending a lot of time examining this exhibition.
Seeing the hand of the first man to set foot on the moon so closely was not just a simple exhibition experience for me, but a moment of creative inspiration.

​When I visit the Museum of Science, the paintings that always capture my attention the most, even among the various exhibits, are the ones.

The first, titled "Wilbur Wright Greets Lady Liberty," depicts Wilbur Wright flying around the Statue of Liberty in New York City in 1909. The soft sky, the majestic figure of the Lady Liberty, and the delicately rendered structures of the early aircraft are striking.

The second painting depicts a vibrant celebration of aviation during the era of aviation, meticulously capturing the crowds gathered around the aircraft and the diverse array of aircraft. The people's expressions, their clothing, and the small details in the scene vividly convey the atmosphere of the era and the passion for technology.
​
As an artist, I find in these works more than mere historical records. The colors, the composition, the placement of the figures, and even the direction of the brushstrokes—all embody the atmosphere and emotions of a time.
Perhaps this is why I find myself drawn to the paintings that tell the stories surrounding the aircraft, even before the aircraft itself.

​The exhibit in the photo features a restored model of an early flying device from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It featured a human body suspended directly from the wing structure, allowing it to soar through the sky.
These attempts, made within the limitations of the technology and materials of the time, were extremely risky, and many inventors lost their lives during test flights.
The wooden frame, extended like airfoils, and the thin fabric wings seem shabby and reckless compared to today's massive metal aircraft.
However, these very attempts accumulated to advance aviation technology, and today, we live in an era where we can safely travel across continents.
This scene reminds us that human progress is not achieved in an instant, but rather is the result of repeated failures and challenges.

​The two spacesuits in this photo demonstrate at a glance how much technology has advanced over the generations.
The orange spacesuit on the left is thick and robust, featuring multi-layered structures and complex devices to ensure survival in extreme environments.
In contrast, the blue flightsuit on the right is much lighter and slimmer, utilizing the latest technology to provide both protection and comfort.
It's remarkable that while space travel once required heavy, claustrophobic equipment, we can now safely complete our missions in such a thin suit.
This change isn't simply a matter of materials and design evolution; it demonstrates how sophisticated and efficient humanity's journey to space has become.

​This is a capsule exhibit from Blue Origin, a private space company founded by Jeff Bezos. This capsule is designed for "suborbital" flights, allowing tourists to ascend to the edge of space and return to Earth. This scene highlights the nearness of the era of commercial space travel.

On the right is a life-size model of R2-D2, the popular droid from the Star Wars movies. This character, found in a corner of the science museum, symbolizes how science fiction films have inspired real-world technological advancements.

Viewing the two exhibits side by side creates an interesting contrast: one presents the ongoing "real space travel" and the other presents the "future space stories" that have long captivated humanity's imagination.

​Visiting the National Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C. was more than just a sightseeing experience—it was a journey through humanity’s relentless pursuit of the skies and beyond. From the fragile early flying machines to the sleek spacecraft of today, every exhibit told a story of courage, ingenuity, and perseverance. Standing before these artifacts, I was reminded that progress is built on countless trials, dreams, and the determination to go further than ever before. This museum is not only a tribute to our past achievements but also an inspiration for the future of exploration.

As I walked along the National Mall in Washington, D.C., I found myself standing before the grand entrance of the National Gallery of Art – West Building. With its neoclassical façade, tall marble columns, and broad staircase, this building feels more like a temple than a museum—an elegant tribute to the timeless power of art.

Opened in 1941, the West Building houses an impressive collection of European masterpieces from the Renaissance through the 19th century. Here, you can encounter works by da Vinci, Raphael, Rembrandt, Velázquez, Turner, and Monet—paintings and sculptures that have defined the very idea of fine art for generations.
More than just a gallery, the architecture itself is a work of art. The symmetry, the soft glow of the marble, and the sense of quiet dignity make this place feel sacred. And the best part? Admission is completely free, making world-class art accessible to anyone who walks through those iconic doors.
​
It’s not just a place to see paintings—it’s a place to feel history, beauty, and the quiet echo of creative genius.

The National Gallery of Art’s West Building houses over 3,000 works of art, while the museum’s total collection across both East and West Buildings exceeds a staggering 150,000 pieces. With such an overwhelming number of masterpieces, it’s simply impossible to take in everything during a brief visit.

Each time I walk through its grand halls, I feel a quiet sense of regret — knowing how much I’m missing. I’m reminded of Henri Rousseau, who was said to have regularly visited galleries with a membership pass, faithfully copying the paintings on his days off.
​
Today, I understood him more deeply. That desire to return again and again, to study the same brushstroke, to be in the presence of art not once but continually — it makes perfect sense.

Where I live now, visiting a museum of this caliber means a 90-minute drive — something that requires planning, time, and intention. It’s a far cry from when I lived in Germany, where museums were just a short walk or tram ride away. Back then, I could enjoy culture daily, spontaneously.
​
Sometimes I think back to those days, sitting quietly in front of a painting, sketchbook in hand, copying works by artists I admired. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was living in a state of quiet abundance — surrounded by art, thought, and history. I’m grateful for that chapter in my life, and it continues to inspire me today.

Even though I was only able to view the artwork briefly—more like skimming the surface than truly diving deep—the power of the paintings still left a lasting impression. Each piece radiated the passion and dedication of the artists behind them. Their craftsmanship spoke louder than words, reminding me that true artistry transcends time and context. Even in passing, the emotional weight and precision of their work could be deeply felt.