LALA KIMBAP DAY I came across

LALA KIMBAP DAY

I came across this illustration while organizing some of my older work.

I painted it sometime last year, but looking at it again, I realized it was never really about kimbap.

It was about a memory.

When I was growing up, kimbap day was a big event. My mother would spread newspapers across the table because there were too many ingredients and not enough space. She would roll twenty, thirty, sometimes forty rolls at a time.

Before she even finished, my brother, my sister, and I would already be hovering around the table, stealing bites and waiting for the first pieces.

Someone always claimed they only wanted an end piece.

Nobody ever stopped at just one.

My father loved those days. Sometimes he would grab an entire roll before it was even sliced and eat it on his way to work. If there was extra, he would take some to share with his coworkers.

The funny thing is that my mother’s lunch boxes were made with love, not design skills. They were often a little chaotic. But my father always said they were the best.

At the time, it felt ordinary.

Now I realize those ordinary moments were some of the happiest days of my life.

My parents are gone now, and those days will never return.

But in LALATOWN, they still live.

That is why I paint.

Not to recreate the past, but to give those memories a place to stay.