Artwork by Axel Corjon 40 x 60 cm Edition of 1 2025
I love walking in Seoul for hours, hip-hop pulsing through my headphones, cutting me off from the noise around so I can connect only to the image, as if the city were unfolding in silence, just for me. Seoul is a city of contrast and beautiful chaos, where vast avenues
hum with movement and suddenly dissolve into quiet alleys where time feels suspended. It’s a living labyrinth, kinetic and tender, a playground of concrete and light where stories slip between architecture and accident. I explore without a plan, guided by instinct, rawn to the shimmer of a reflection or the curve of a shadow on a wall. I get lost in the rhythm, in the geometry of the moment, in that fragile space where attention meets chance. There’s a quiet joy in those fragments of grace. I’m fully focused, yet relaxed, letting things unfold without forcing anything. I don’t chase moments. I wait for them to arrive. I’m not documenting reality as it is. I’m distilling it. Extracting fragments where light speaks louder than form, and shadow becomes the silence between things. Each scene hovers on the edge of the visible and the invisible. People don’t pose. They pass through the frame, unaware, appearing and vanishing like echoes—fleeting presences between two worlds. I walk, I observe, I disappear. And sometimes, without warning, the city gives me something back.
