Tell us about yourself and your artistic journey.
I am a type-based multidisciplinary artist. I am interested in the context of the word itself, and in how visual, material, and installation decisions speak to it. I get inspiration when I find connections between the word and its surroundings—it is my job to bring these connections into the visual world for the audience and the viewer. I love reading, interviewing, and reflecting on history—anything word-based gives me the energy to create art. In terms of theme, I am drawn to ideas of source, root, and belonging, as well as questions about majority versus minority within a social context.
What’s the story behind the piece you’re sharing with us?
I have rarely stayed in one place throughout my life. I was born in Korea, moved to Canada in middle school, then to the USA for college, and now I am in the UK. Some migration decisions were my own, while others were inevitable due to external or educational reasons. This constant movement made me wonder what my “original” is, and eventually I began to think that my origin cannot be defined by a country name, but rather by the features I have gained through constant migration.
How does the QR code street exhition format shape your approach to the viewer’s experience?
This is one way to make art presentation realistically achievable within an emerging artist’s budget. It also allows many different forms of art to appear visually cohesive in terms of presentation. QR codes bring a sense of virtuality to the audience as well. More and more, our society places heavy meaning on the intangible world in relation to the physical world and its interactions. I think this virtuality makes my themes of migration and typographic identity more accessible to viewers—both in a cost-effective and contemporary way.
With our exhibition theme in mind, when did you last get wonderfully lost—in a city, a thought, or your studio?
I often go for walks to think through my ideas. For this piece, I knew I wanted to work with motors, and later I found myself getting lost in my studio—watching YouTube videos to understand schematic drawings and figuring out the proper layout for the motors. The journey of technically making this electrical work function was so challenging. I was often lost in my studio, holding a soldering tool in one hand and a PCB board in the other. But getting lost was worth it, because in the end I successfully built this wooden, motor-driven installation from scratch.
If your art could speak, what would it say to passersby?
Because of the sound created by the motors, when the switch turns on, it would be fun to hear the installation call out, “Gear on!”—a playful warning to the viewer that the motor sounds will be loud.
Tell us about yourself and your artistic journey.
I am a type-based multidisciplinary artist. I am interested in the context of the word itself, and in how visual, material, and installation decisions speak to it. I get inspiration when I find connections between the word and its surroundings—it is my job to bring these connections into the visual world for the audience and the viewer. I love reading, interviewing, and reflecting on history—anything word-based gives me the energy to create art. In terms of theme, I am drawn to ideas of source, root, and belonging, as well as questions about majority versus minority within a social context.
What’s the story behind the piece you’re sharing with us?
I have rarely stayed in one place throughout my life. I was born in Korea, moved to Canada in middle school, then to the USA for college, and now I am in the UK. Some migration decisions were my own, while others were inevitable due to external or educational reasons. This constant movement made me wonder what my “original” is, and eventually I began to think that my origin cannot be defined by a country name, but rather by the features I have gained through constant migration.
How does the QR code street exhition format shape your approach to the viewer’s experience?
This is one way to make art presentation realistically achievable within an emerging artist’s budget. It also allows many different forms of art to appear visually cohesive in terms of presentation. QR codes bring a sense of virtuality to the audience as well. More and more, our society places heavy meaning on the intangible world in relation to the physical world and its interactions. I think this virtuality makes my themes of migration and typographic identity more accessible to viewers—both in a cost-effective and contemporary way.
With our exhibition theme in mind, when did you last get wonderfully lost—in a city, a thought, or your studio?
I often go for walks to think through my ideas. For this piece, I knew I wanted to work with motors, and later I found myself getting lost in my studio—watching YouTube videos to understand schematic drawings and figuring out the proper layout for the motors. The journey of technically making this electrical work function was so challenging. I was often lost in my studio, holding a soldering tool in one hand and a PCB board in the other. But getting lost was worth it, because in the end I successfully built this wooden, motor-driven installation from scratch.
If your art could speak, what would it say to passersby?
Because of the sound created by the motors, when the switch turns on, it would be fun to hear the installation call out, “Gear on!”—a playful warning to the viewer that the motor sounds will be loud.
Tell us about yourself and your artistic journey.
I am a type-based multidisciplinary artist. I am interested in the context of the word itself, and in how visual, material, and installation decisions speak to it. I get inspiration when I find connections between the word and its surroundings—it is my job to bring these connections into the visual world for the audience and the viewer. I love reading, interviewing, and reflecting on history—anything word-based gives me the energy to create art. In terms of theme, I am drawn to ideas of source, root, and belonging, as well as questions about majority versus minority within a social context.
What’s the story behind the piece you’re sharing with us?
I have rarely stayed in one place throughout my life. I was born in Korea, moved to Canada in middle school, then to the USA for college, and now I am in the UK. Some migration decisions were my own, while others were inevitable due to external or educational reasons. This constant movement made me wonder what my “original” is, and eventually I began to think that my origin cannot be defined by a country name, but rather by the features I have gained through constant migration.
How does the QR code street exhition format shape your approach to the viewer’s experience?
This is one way to make art presentation realistically achievable within an emerging artist’s budget. It also allows many different forms of art to appear visually cohesive in terms of presentation. QR codes bring a sense of virtuality to the audience as well. More and more, our society places heavy meaning on the intangible world in relation to the physical world and its interactions. I think this virtuality makes my themes of migration and typographic identity more accessible to viewers—both in a cost-effective and contemporary way.
With our exhibition theme in mind, when did you last get wonderfully lost—in a city, a thought, or your studio?
I often go for walks to think through my ideas. For this piece, I knew I wanted to work with motors, and later I found myself getting lost in my studio—watching YouTube videos to understand schematic drawings and figuring out the proper layout for the motors. The journey of technically making this electrical work function was so challenging. I was often lost in my studio, holding a soldering tool in one hand and a PCB board in the other. But getting lost was worth it, because in the end I successfully built this wooden, motor-driven installation from scratch.
If your art could speak, what would it say to passersby?
Because of the sound created by the motors, when the switch turns on, it would be fun to hear the installation call out, “Gear on!”—a playful warning to the viewer that the motor sounds will be loud.
Tell us about yourself and your artistic journey.
I am a type-based multidisciplinary artist. I am interested in the context of the word itself, and in how visual, material, and installation decisions speak to it. I get inspiration when I find connections between the word and its surroundings—it is my job to bring these connections into the visual world for the audience and the viewer. I love reading, interviewing, and reflecting on history—anything word-based gives me the energy to create art. In terms of theme, I am drawn to ideas of source, root, and belonging, as well as questions about majority versus minority within a social context.
What’s the story behind the piece you’re sharing with us?
I have rarely stayed in one place throughout my life. I was born in Korea, moved to Canada in middle school, then to the USA for college, and now I am in the UK. Some migration decisions were my own, while others were inevitable due to external or educational reasons. This constant movement made me wonder what my “original” is, and eventually I began to think that my origin cannot be defined by a country name, but rather by the features I have gained through constant migration.
How does the QR code street exhition format shape your approach to the viewer’s experience?
This is one way to make art presentation realistically achievable within an emerging artist’s budget. It also allows many different forms of art to appear visually cohesive in terms of presentation. QR codes bring a sense of virtuality to the audience as well. More and more, our society places heavy meaning on the intangible world in relation to the physical world and its interactions. I think this virtuality makes my themes of migration and typographic identity more accessible to viewers—both in a cost-effective and contemporary way.
With our exhibition theme in mind, when did you last get wonderfully lost—in a city, a thought, or your studio?
I often go for walks to think through my ideas. For this piece, I knew I wanted to work with motors, and later I found myself getting lost in my studio—watching YouTube videos to understand schematic drawings and figuring out the proper layout for the motors. The journey of technically making this electrical work function was so challenging. I was often lost in my studio, holding a soldering tool in one hand and a PCB board in the other. But getting lost was worth it, because in the end I successfully built this wooden, motor-driven installation from scratch.
If your art could speak, what would it say to passersby?
Because of the sound created by the motors, when the switch turns on, it would be fun to hear the installation call out, “Gear on!”—a playful warning to the viewer that the motor sounds will be loud.
Artist Interview
Artist Interview
Signal Station
Signal Station
Description
Description
Plywood, motors
30 cm depth x 55cm width x 60 cm height
2025
Plywood, motors
30 cm depth x 55cm width x 60 cm height
2025
Within Choe’s multidisciplinary piece, English, the ebb and flow of learning and truly understanding a new language is explored through the eyes of a non-native speaker in a new environment. The piece is sliced into 26 segments and moved up and down in an unsynchronised fashion by hidden motors. Symbolising the artist’s view of their use of the English language, the sculpture’s word is unmistakably broken into pieces, while remaining ‘legible’. As someone who has spent half her life in North America, she reflects on how anxiety can trigger what is often labelled as “broken English.” Yet rather than viewing this as a deficit, the work reframes it as a dynamic expression of identity. English critiques the dominance of linguistic norms shaped by globalisation, embracing the irregularities introduced by non-native speakers.
Like language itself—constantly moving, trembling, and drifting—English captures the vibrancy of existing in-between: unstable, expressive, and alive. As you drift through the canal and the codes it holds, English reminds us that identity, like language, is not fixed but formed through movement, disruption, and the courage to be partially understood.
- Artist Note -
Artist Note
Through globalization, the English language’s general rules are often challenged by non-native speakers. As a non-native speaker. I explore my personal identity through the kinetic typography sculpture “English.” Even as I have spent half of my life in North America, I may use broken English especially when I am nervous. In my piece, the word “English” is sliced into 26 segments and moved up and down in an unsynchronized fashion by hidden motors. As with my own broken, yet intelligible, use of the English language, the sculpture’s word is unmistakably broken into pieces, while remaining legible.
Within Choe’s multidisciplinary piece, English, the ebb and flow of learning and truly understanding a new language is explored through the eyes of a non-native speaker in a new environment. The piece is sliced into 26 segments and moved up and down in an unsynchronised fashion by hidden motors. Symbolising the artist’s view of their use of the English language, the sculpture’s word is unmistakably broken into pieces, while remaining ‘legible’. As someone who has spent half her life in North America, she reflects on how anxiety can trigger what is often labelled as “broken English.” Yet rather than viewing this as a deficit, the work reframes it as a dynamic expression of identity. English critiques the dominance of linguistic norms shaped by globalisation, embracing the irregularities introduced by non-native speakers.
Like language itself—constantly moving, trembling, and drifting—English captures the vibrancy of existing in-between: unstable, expressive, and alive. As you drift through the canal and the codes it holds, English reminds us that identity, like language, is not fixed but formed through movement, disruption, and the courage to be partially understood.
Through globalization, the English language’s general rules are often challenged by non-native speakers. As a non-native speaker. I explore my personal identity through the kinetic typography sculpture “English.” Even as I have spent half of my life in North America, I may use broken English especially when I am nervous. In my piece, the word “English” is sliced into 26 segments and moved up and down in an unsynchronized fashion by hidden motors. As with my own broken, yet intelligible, use of the English language, the sculpture’s word is unmistakably broken into pieces, while remaining legible.