United, Untied © Suzy Lee, 2025 150 ¡¿ 2400 mm Scroll format with wooden rollers (200 mm) Inspired by Chokjando, Sim Sajeong¡¯s eight-meter scroll painting of a long and perilous journey, United, Untied explores the paths that bring people together. Two figures begin at opposite ends of a scroll and journey toward a meeting at the center. To express this long and unpredictable path, the book adopts the traditional horizontal scroll format, reimagined with contemporary materials. As readers gradually unroll the picturebook-like scroll, they encounter a landscape of relationships, meetings, and partings, suggesting that every connection continues beyond the moment of encounter. ***** 1. The Endless Landscape and The Road to Shu In 2017, at the exhibition "New Treasures Unveiled" at the National Museum of Korea, I saw Yi In-mun's The Endless Landscape (Gangsan Mujindo) displayed alongside Sim Sa-jeong's The Road to Shu (Chokjando). It was a rare opportunity to stand before these monumental scrolls, each stretching nearly eight meters in length. That experience inspired me to create a picture book that unfolds endlessly like a handscroll. Handscroll paintings are often said to share an affinity with picture books. As a scroll is gradually unrolled with one hand and rolled up with the other, the viewer experiences the image little by little; time and space advance only as much as the scroll reveals. The Road to Shu, based on Li Bai's famous poem "The Difficulty of the Road to Shu", depicts an arduous journey through seemingly endless mountains. It is believed to have been painted during the final year of Sim Sa-jeong's life, and its beauty is inseparable from the hardships he endured. The painting is both magnificent and deeply poignant: a fearful road, an arduous path, an endless journey. Looking at it, I began to think of how difficult it is for two people who are meant to meet to finally encounter one another. In Buddhism, there is a saying that even brushing sleeves with someone requires the karma of five hundred kalpas. If that is so, then meeting the people who enter our lives is nothing short of extraordinary. 2. The Lovers There is a performance by Marina Abramović entitled The Artist Is Present, presented at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. During the work, the artist sat silently across from visitors, meeting each person's gaze. One day, an elderly man entered the gallery and sat opposite her. As they looked into each other's eyes, both began to weep. He was Ulay, her former partner in both art and life. Learning more about their collaboration led me to another of their works, The Lovers. The two artists had conceived an ambitious plan: each would begin walking from opposite ends of the Great Wall of China, meet in the middle, and marry there. But events did not unfold as they had hoped. While they waited for permission from the Chinese government, years passed, their lives changed, and eventually their relationship came to an end. When permission was finally granted, they nevertheless completed the journey. Walking separately along the vast and rugged Great Wall, they met on a stone bridge in Shaanxi Province, embraced one another, and then parted. Ulay said he wished to keep walking "forever." Abramović replied that she wanted to go home. Many years later, they met once again in the museum, their faces now lined with age, silently looking into each other's eyes. I began to imagine what would happen if two people connected by fate each started walking from opposite ends of a scroll. Along their separate paths they would encounter the many landscapes and hardships of life, pressing forward step by step until, at last, they met. Like the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl, theirs would seem an impossible meeting, yet one made possible through countless coincidences and unseen connections. But our lives do not end with the words, "They lived happily ever after." Even when a relationship seems complete, life continues. I wanted to express this by allowing each person to continue walking along their own path. 3. Every Kind of Relationship The Lovers is ultimately a story about all human relationships. It may be about the love between two lovers. It may just as easily be about the bond between a companion animal and its caretaker, or between parents and children. There is a Buddhist saying: "A true karmic relationship is never someone who comes entirely according to your own wishes." I often find myself reflecting on these words when I think about my own children. Because this story can speak to every kind of relationship, it begins with a young man dressed like a Persian prince and a young woman reminiscent of Sim Cheong, each setting out from opposite ends of the scroll. As the story unfolds, however, they gradually transform into simple geometric forms—a circle and a diamond—onto which anyone may project themselves. After their dramatic meeting, attentive readers may discover them continuing their journey beyond the distant landscape, still walking together toward the horizon. 4. Read This Way or That Way The Korean scholar Yi Gyu-bo wrote a palindrome poem entitled The Lament of a Beauty (Miinwon). It begins: "In spring, the oriole's song breaks my heart." and ends with the same words in reverse order: "The song of the spring oriole leaves my heart in pieces." The poem can be read both forward and backward, each direction creating a complete and meaningful verse. Traditionally, East Asian handscrolls are viewed by unrolling them from right to left, while Western readers naturally move from left to right. The Lovers embraces both directions: it may be read from either end of the scroll. For this reason, I felt that a palindrome poem offered the perfect companion to the work. Li Bai's poem The Difficulty of the Road to Shu also quietly enters the story. The path toward forming a meaningful relationship is as perilous as the road to Shu itself—steep, uncertain, and seemingly impossible. Yet in the end, I am grateful to have met you. And now, turning lightly away, I swallow the tears gathering behind your back as we part once again. . .