you are still greenery, and for good you will be greenery.


"mourning is interminable. Inconsolable. Irreconcilable."
- Jacques Derrida, The Work of Mourning


Ellie Kyungran Heo, Am I wrong?, Still, 2016

The general definition of a ‘weed’ is ‘a plant in the wrong place’, or ‘a plant growing where it is not wanted’.

I wonder, what is the right place for a plant to grow?


The rice being cut, the paddy of the rice being empty, and Eri, who had been experiencing rice growing this year at Miasa School, eating alone a rice-ball in the class, I was sad for them.

After then, I saw the stalk of the rice being gone back to the ground as a fertiliser after the rice harvest.

The things should be returned back to the ground including me and you, then waiting for the next step.

Thinking of you...


What is seen was not made out of what was visible (Hebrews 11:3)


Ellie Kyungran Heo, How big you are, still, 2016

I met the tiny creature by chance while taking a picture of 409 below.

Ellie Kyungran Heo, 409, still, 2016


To reach, not the point where one no longer says I,
but the point where it is no longer of any importance whether one says I.

- A Thousand Plateaus, Gilles Deleuze & Felix Guattari


The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling together,
and a little child will lead them.
The cow will feed with the bear,
their young will lie down together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox.
The infant will play near the cobra’s den,
and the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest.
They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.
(Isaiah 11:6-9)


Work in progress, stills from my research: Relax digital project
Commissioned by Chelsea and Westminster Hospital / Supported by the Wylie Veterinary Centre

My proposal is to show the animals in the waiting room in a Veterinary hospital to the people waiting in the human hospital. While doing research in both areas, I found the simple principle: there is no patient being alone in the veterinary waiting room. Animals should be there with somebody who keeps speaking, touching or giving the undivided attention.

What we need in the waiting areas at the hospital is essentially you.


So, I look up at the sky, rainbows, then I see heaven open.

I believe they are in...

"Look! God's dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them [...] He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."(Revelation 21:3-4)

They are much better off than us, aren't they?


There was the happiest time just before the saddest time.
Now, these times are sitting next to each other and looking at me.


For me, time became too long and heavy.
My obligation to the time allowed...


The last tutorial with Stuart on 4 March 2015, he started drawing, writing on the paper and talking about my film Island (working title: Mara)...the third meaning by the edit in Eisenstein Montage theory-the shot a guy by the window and cut, then the shot of the moon-what is the guy doing?...then he said,

"It's your decision how clear you make it in the film between the level of obvious and abstract...
You may be somewhere around here (drawing the zigzag line on the middle of two directions)."

I said, "Around there", pointing it out with my finger on his drawing.

"I'll be on the moon".


Still from Island, work in progress, 2015 

When the child was a child, 
It was the time for these questions: 
Why am I me, and why not you? 
Why am I here, and why not there? 
 When did time begin, and where does space end?
 (Peter Handke, Song of Childhood, 1987)

The first time we met on Mara Island, you asked me these questions.

A few months later I started asking you in this film, "Is life under the sun not just a dream?"

Ellie Kyungran Heo, Island, documentary film, work in progress, 2014-2015


"Here and now, boys," the bird repeated yet once more, then fluttered down from its perch on the dead tree and settled on her shoulder. The child peeled another banana, gave two-thirds of it to Will and offered what remained to the mynah.
"Is that your bird?" Will asked. She shook her head. "Mynahs are like the electric light," she said. "They don't belong to anybody." "Why does he say those things?" "Because somebody taught him," she answered patiently. What an ass! her tone seemed to imply. "But why did they teach him those things? Why 'Attention'? Why 'Here and now'?" "Well ..." She searched for the right words in which to explain the self- evident to this strange imbecile. "That's what you always forget, isn't it? I mean, you forget to pay attention to what's happening. And that's the same as not being here and now."


"No, don't do that," she cried. "Let it come out if it wants to. Remember that snake, Will. Remember how you fell." The moaning broke out again and he began to shudder more violently than ever. "Now tell me what happened." "I could see its eyes, I could see its tongue going in and out." "Yes, you could see his tongue. And what happened then?" "I lost my balance, I fell." "Say it again, Will." He was sobbing now. "Say it again," she insisted. "I fell." "Again." It was tearing him to pieces, but he said it. "I fell." "Again, Will." She was implacable. "Again." "I fell, I fell. I fell . . ." Gradually the sobbing died down. The words came more easily and the memories they aroused were less painful. "I fell," he repeated for the hundredth time. "But you didn't fall very far," Mary Sarojini now said. "No, I didn't fall very far," he agreed. "So what's all the fuss about?" the child inquired. There was no malice or irony in her tone, not the slightest implication of blame. She was just asking a simple, straightforward question that called for a simple, straightforward answer. Yes, what was all the fuss about? The snake hadn't bitten him; he hadn't broken his neck. And anyhow it had all happened yesterday. Today there were these butterflies, this bird that called one to attention, this strange child who talked to one like a Dutch uncle, looked like an angel out of some unfamiliar mythology and within five degrees of the equator was called, believe it or not, MacPhail. Will Farnaby laughed aloud. The little girl clapped her hands and laughed too. A moment later the bird on her shoulder joined in with peal upon peal of loud demonic laughter that filled the glade and echoed among the trees, so that the whole universe seemed to be fairly splitting its sides over the enormous joke of existence(Aldous Huxley, Island, 1966).

The bird in his novel Island is saying "Attention", "Here and now".
And the little girl is speaking to me: "You can't be here and now", "Until you've got rid of those snakes. Tell me."


My sister looks at anchovies being simmered in the pot and she says to the little dried fish,

"I never blame your species even if they bite, chew and eat me when I fall into the sea."
"내가 바다에 빠졌을때 너희가 나를 갈기갈기 뜯어 먹어도 나는 너희를 원망하지 않겠다."