Aiga Kimyounghwa

Story One

Born from Clay

When I was born, I had no idea that my first breath was taken in one of the deepest mountain valleys in Korea.

My hometown, Banggok Village in Mungyeong, lies quietly embraced by the majestic Baekdudaegan mountain range, whose peaks surround the village like a folding screen. Nestled among rocky cliffs and gentle streams, it is a small world cradled by nature.

There was more clay than mountains around our home. The yard was filled with countless lumps of earth and ceramic works shaped by my father’s hands. I grew up surrounded by that landscape.

For generations, my family has lived by working with clay. My grandfather crafted tea bowls and white ceramic chamber pots from the fine clay of Banggok and sent them throughout the country. Today, chamber pots may seem like relics of the past, but in those days, when toilets stood outside the house, they were an essential part of everyday life, especially during the cold winter nights. They were humble vessels that quietly served people's daily lives.

My father inherited that tradition but carried it even further. Beyond creating everyday pottery, he devoted himself to making tea bowls and ceramic works of cultural and artistic significance. In his hands, clay was never just a material—it became a living work of art.

As a child, my playground was not a toy store but my father's workshop. With the leftover clay from his work, I made dolls, animals, and imaginary worlds, spending endless hours shaping whatever my heart envisioned. While other children played with manufactured toys, I grew up molding dreams with clay.

Looking back, clay was never merely a material to me. It was my very first toy, my first canvas, and the first language through which I learned to understand the world. It became the deepest root of who I am today.

I was born from clay, and I grew up with clay.

Even now, before I lift my brush, I first remember the breath of the earth. The stories of life that fill my paintings may have begun long ago, in the clay of that quiet mountain village.

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