Chapter No. 11

Theatre of Floating Pages

28 March 2025 — 23 May 2025

Each morning, we hope for the beginning of a new time. We wish to turn the page—leaving behind the weight of unresolved emotions and thoughts from the night before, and starting afresh on a blank slate.

At the same time, we hope to preserve what is dear to us. This is why we make a habit of recording our days, so as not to forget.

Yet there are moments when the distinction between what ought to be remembered and what must be forgotten becomes unclear. The relentless flow of time offers little guidance in these instances.

 
 

In 1975, American composer and performer, John Zorn introduced a project titled Theatre of Musical Optics as part of his experiments in composition and choreographic structure.

He gathered seemingly purposeless objects from everyday life, staged them on a small platform, and invited a few acquaintances to witness these modest performances.

Within the framework he devised, these small objects wove together personal memories and new narratives.

 
 
 

Today, we find ourselves surrounded by precarious events. Our own fragile sense of time is easily swept up in their wake. In response, I borrow the idea of Zorn’s theatre to reflect on what must be remembered, what should be recorded, and what may need to be respectfully released.

As he once did, I loosely assemble fragments—images from the recent past, collected objects from long ago, and musings for an uncertain future.

 
 

Some thoughts that once floated through my mind will quietly disappear, while others will be assigned new roles and help shape the ahead.

The pages on the wall will continue to shift—evolving, week by week, as we move toward what lies in the near future.

March 28, 2025
Na Kim

Next
Next

No. 10