Happy Easter

Happy Easter

When I first arrived in this quiet suburban neighborhood in the U.S., what touched me most wasn’t anything grand or cinematic—it was the wild rabbits.
They hop freely through front yards and back gardens, as if they’re part of the neighborhood.
These rabbits are nothing like the white, fluffy ones from fairy tales. American rabbits have shorter ears, slender bodies, and a warm brown hue. At first glance, they seem plain. But when I see them leaping across lawns in the early morning light, I can’t help but feel a sense of calm and healing.
In spring, the rabbits return, squirrels dash through the trees, and the air fills with birdsong. I think I’ve always longed for this season—without realizing just how much.

Spring That Stirs Old Memories

This year, spring reminds me of a very different time: the spring of 1997 in Korea.
That was the year of the Asian financial crisis, known to us simply as IMF.

Suddenly, companies collapsed, jobs disappeared, and families faced unprecedented uncertainty. I still remember how adults wore strained expressions. There were fewer smiles, less ease, more worry.
Although Korea gradually recovered in the years that followed, the panic of that time has never fully left my memory.
And perhaps I think of it now because the global economy feels unstable again—like a boat tossed in a storm.
What if such hardship returns?
Will we be able to hold on again?
What about the people around me—my neighbors, fellow artists, families just trying to get by?

Can Art Survive Uncertainty?In times of crisis, art is often viewed as non-essential.

When wallets tighten, creative expression is the first to be cut.
As an artist, I ask myself: How can we survive with art when survival itself is in question?
This spring, I’m preparing for another outdoor art show.
These shows have always been precious to me—opportunities to connect with art lovers, observe market trends, and grow as a professional.
But honestly, I feel nervous. Will people still stop and look at paintings when their minds are heavy with inflation, layoffs, and uncertainty?
Still, I believe in the power of art.

Throughout history, art has persisted—through wars, pandemics, and economic crashes.

Van Gogh painted sunflowers from a hospital bed.
During lockdowns, people sang from balconies.
Art isn’t just a luxury.
It is a language of the soul. A balm for the wounded. A spark in the dark.

This Easter, May We Be Reborn with Hope

Easter isn’t just about colorful eggs or festive meals.
It is the celebration of life that rises again.
Of light that returns after darkness.
Of resurrection and renewal.

This Easter, I hope that healing will come not just to bodies, but to economies, to communities, and to hearts.

I hope that the cold weight of uncertainty begins to thaw,
That joy finds its way back into our lives,
And that people everywhere can breathe a little easier.
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Above all, I hope that art continues to remind us of who we are—even in the hardest of times.
Happy Easter.
May this season be the beginning of genuine restoration.