When I was adopted in 2004, my parents planted a Mugunghwa tree sapling in a pot in our backyard. The mugunghwa tree symbolizes resilience and is the national flower of South Korea.  It grew with me, slowly, and now stands over seven feet tall in our front yard. My connection with South Korea is encapsulated by this clipping, which is part of a larger sculptural piece that resides in the states. 

My name is Owen Troyer, or Ahn Sei Min. I chose a car as my connection to Korea as it exemplifies the commuting experience I had during my first trip back to my birth country. 

A hand mirror allows me to see a reflection of myself. To others, and on the outisde I look one way. But on the inside, I look like a completely different person. From a different culture. A hand mirror allows me to see one aspect of my identity as an adoptee. Some days I look in the mirror and I feel very Korean. I think I look Korean. Some days I look in the mirror and I don't think I look Korean at all. It allows me to see a reflection of myself. Of who I am, and who I hope to be one day. 

From the adoption file of Ki Yumi. On 12 15 84, a man committed a baby, who seemed to born on that day, to a passerby, Kim YeonJuh, around 5:15 pm at the aforementioned place. Saying that he would drop into a store. However, the man did not come back, so the passerby reported to the police station in that area. On the day that the baby was admitted to our organization in compliance with the request of the police station, the baby was in clothes for newborn babies and was wrapped in an orange colored quilt. 

Dee Kang is a textile and fabric artist who experienced both hardships and joys when she returned to Korea to learn traditional art techniques. The Bojagi ornament was a resulting technique she learned from her stay in Korea. It is a traditional paper/fabric ornament that is used for making wishes. 

 I put $50 on it (the wow pass) when i got to first hotel in Seoul, never used it, messed up getting the money back off of it, so i have it sitting on my desk to remind me to take it with me next time i go - but also to remind me of the trip in the first place

The object is a Sogo drum. I've already done a quasi self- portrait or rather a talisman like sculpture of it. (see https://collection.powerhouse.com.au/object/8029)

Hello, my name is Sarah Harris. My Korean name given to me: Kwan Do-Yeong. I was adopted away from Korea in 1971 at the age of 8 months old. The reason that I chose a Korean lock for my item is growing up I did not know how to feel about being Korean. I had no reference point and I didn't know anything about Korea, and to be honest neither did most of the people around me. Friends, family, anything. So... the one thing that I had to refer to is that my parents had purchased two antique Korean chests: one for each of their adopted korean daughters. And on them were these really intricate, detailed antique locks. They were unlike anything I had ever seen before. They looked very special and real to be honest. So, they had intricate carvings and little details, even a beautiful silk ribbon hanging off of it. One looked like a fish, which was really interesting to me. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. Like something out of a fairy tale in a way. So that was the only thing I could touch that really anchored me to my birth place. I still didn't have much of a grasp on it. For much of my life growing up I had a very black and white image in my head of what a war torn post conflict Korea must be like. And so... then, in I'd say around the 2017-2018 period of time when I was actually considering beginning to look in to my backstory, because with fairy tales, movies, or books that you read, you always know the main character's backstory... and I never knew mine. So at that time I started to look and it felt like a fairy tale that I was hunting for, and it reconnected me to these beautiful antique locks... and also the hard truth that many of our secrets are locked away in Korea and that there are so much smoke and mirrors that we may never know the truth. So for me, it really meant a lot that I still had this anchor of these beautiful Korean locks. 

Korea is a beautiful country with beautiful people and traditions. And I'm proud to be Korean. But having grown up in America I feel more connected to the culture and traditions of my adoptive family. Because of that I have chosen a kite as my object. A kite cannot be fully appreciated until it is open and flying in the wind. But in order to fly, it has to be connected by a string to the flyer. To me, I was born Korean. So much like the string, it is a part of me that will always be connected to me. But in many ways it's a place and culture that is so far away that I don't closely associate with. I envision the Korean flag, Korean designs on an open kite blowing in the wind, with the string transitioning in an ombre to an American flag into the hand of a Korean girl. 

When I was last in Korea, on my last day as I was leaving, it was pouring outside, and I had to walk to the train. Someone handed me an umbrella like this. And I was able to walk to the station without getting soaked but could still look around. In turn, as I entered the station, I handed it to someone random who didn’t have an umbrella either. None of us spoke the same language, but it was a universal transfer. I bought one for my daughter when I got back to the states.

A heart lock has become a memorial symbol for me. My father was super excited for me to visit my birth country, and had a great curiosity about it. He loved hearing about my international travels, and he had always wanted to travel internationally. We both had incidentally studied abroad in Belgium, but forty years apart. but he never got to travel more afterwards. He died without getting to realize his dreams. It tore up my heart that he had left this world with an unfulfilled desire. One of the first things I had done when I went to Seoul was to put a heart lock on the Namsan tower. Many places around the world have a tradition of leaving heart locks for the people you love. When I returned to the United States, my father died. The next time that I visited Korea, my husband and I left a heart lock for my father, hoping that his spirit would look out over the city and enjoy the wonder and beauty of Korea in spirit, since he could not see it in life. My new mission is to travel the world for my father, leaving heart locks in these special places that he never got to see. 

I picked a soju bottle because it kinda sums up my connection with Korea. When I first met Sydney, we went out for chicken and beer and somehow found our love for sugar-free apricot soju. Now, soju just reminds me of those nights - laughing, figuring things out, and feeling closer to Korean culture in the middle of it all. 

Some parts of my story feel like secrets that I want to keep to myself, but I also want other adoptees to feel seen and understood by their community. I want the adoptee community to feel empowered and to know just how many of us there are. I want the world to know that we need recognition and support as we all explore the complexities of lost culture, birth family searches, and reckoning with each of our individual stories.

The Imugi exists in between, seen as a lesser dragon, yet full of potential. As a Korean adoptee, I too exist between two worlds. I am tied to Korea by birth and blood, yet distanced by language, culture, and the feeling of not being a real Korean. Korea is both my homeland and a mystery. The unanswered questions of my origins leave a grief that quietly lingers.But like the Imugi, I am evolving as I confront the truths of adoption, some of them quite dark. With perseverance and patience, I move through a painful yet hopeful transformation, each step drawing me closer to my own version of wholeness. No longer an Amugi longing for wings, but a dragon, whole and risen.

I chose a Korean fan as a symbol to represent South Korea. It reminds me of the creative and artistic ways. It is beautiful. When a fan is unfolded, it reveals something beautiful. It reminds me of the gifts and beauty within me. A fan opens and closes quietly, which also symbolizes the quiet strength that I have.

The Korean fan reminds me to honor where I came from and to carry that respect. And it seems like every time I visit Korea, it is in the summertime, which a fan is needed. And so it represents me and connects me to South Korea, my birth country.

I chose the paintbrush as the object for my doljabi because I was told it was what I had picked out as a baby by my biological mother...and even though I found out, it was much later as an adult. However, whether it was fate or not, I've had a strong connection with art and learning since I was young. But another reason why I chose the paintbrush is because while a paintbrush is unassuming, it can create beautiful works of art and be witness to historical events, or express our thoughts in the form of poetry. It is a transformative tool for creativity. 

The object that represents my relationship with Korea the best would be character socks. One of those popular mass produced character socks that you can buy for like a dollar on the streets of Seoul with cute versions of pokemon or popular meme characters. There’s a proverb in Korea that says “겉과 속이 다르다” meaning "the outside and inside is different". How you present yourself to others is different from your private persona. I think this is representative of my relationship with Korea and adoption because my public persona is always changing depending on who I'm talking to or what social group I’m with. How I may act and how I speak when I’m among adoptee friends is different from how I may act when I’m with a group of Korean friends. Some part of that has to do with my comfort level regarding certain topics as well as language barriers. When I’m able to speak freely in my native language (English) I’m much sharper, wittier, and quicker to respond. If I have to communicate in Korean, it takes me longer to process a response and I come across to people as more shy and reserved than if I’m with a group of English speakers. It's kind of a meme, but the character socks – they may look pretty on the outside but if you turn them inside out they become a different creature that’s much different than its outward appearance. In other terms, I usually present myself as a put together well functioning adult, but on the inside, sometimes I'm an utter mess.