To a wise person, every single day is a new life
"To a wise person, every single day is a new life. Never forget that today will never come again."
These are the words of Dante Alighieri, author of The Divine Comedy.
Born in Florence, Italy in March 1265 and passing away in 1321, Dante Alighieri was the favorite writer of Michelangelo Buonarroti, who was born in March 1475.
Michelangelo.
If we go by Dante's words, Michelangelo wasted every single irreplaceable day of his life sculpting.
Let me correct that.
Saying he "wasted" them is not quite right.
It's hard to find the right word.
After all, I'm someone who works with stone, not a writer... so, let's just say he devoted himself entirely to sculpting all day long.
In any case—
Even when he grew old and nearly blind, when his body was weakened, Michelangelo kept sculpting by touch until just days before his death.
Until he could no longer rise from bed.
Why did he do that?
The answer is simple.
To him, sculpture was the most important and most urgent thing—worthy of devoting today, a day that would never return.
At this point, I want to ask the listener:
Do you have something like that?
More precisely—have you found it?
If you have, hold on to it.
Time is both relative and fleeting—if you don't cling to it right now, you'll never enjoy it to the fullest.
Even dedicating your whole life to it would not be a waste.
—Excerpt from a blog post recording a lecture by Yang Seon-gu, first-generation sculptor and author of Lessons from a Sculptor
Evening, as the blue night sky began to settle.
A road leading out to the suburbs near Seoul.
A truck moved slowly forward. It had just been newly acquired by Kang Hyeon-do, who had even had a large decal done reading "Seoki Furniture Store."
It was weekday rush hour.
The truck was barely crawling along the road heading out from Seoul toward the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province.
Kang Hyeon-do glanced at Kang Seok with a helpless expression.
"This traffic's really bad, huh."
"It was expected."
Though he'd offered to drive to drop him off in an area not well-served by buses, they still couldn't avoid rush hour.
"If you're tired, why don't you take a nap?"
"I'm fine."
Even though he was the one driving, Kang Hyeon-do's face was filled only with concern for Kang Seok. Looking at his overly affectionate father, Kang Seok shook his head—to say, don't worry.
They had plenty of time.
"If you're tired, seriously, get some sleep. You said you're going to work once we get there."
"I really am fine."
Once the creative energy dies, it takes time to ignite again.
Rest was important, yes, but Kang Seok wanted to carry this exact feeling into his work—so he declined.
At his words, Kang Hyeon-do let out a long sigh with a face that said, What can I do?
When have I ever won against my son, anyway? The look in Kang Hyeon-do's eyes said as much, with a faint smile.
"Alright, if you're sure. Just a bit more and traffic should ease up."
"Okay."
"There's no specific time you need to be there, right?"
"He doesn't mention things like that."
Master Yang Seon-gu had told him he could come and work anytime that suited him. Said he was a light sleeper but never bothered by others, and that he genuinely didn't mind.
Even if the hanok house echoed night and day with the sound of carving, he'd just laugh and say it was nice to hear stonework again after so long.
Sometimes Kang Seok wondered if the man hadn't spent decades carving stone, but training his soul.
In any case—he decided to enjoy this impromptu drive with his father.
Getting anxious or irritated wouldn't help the work come any faster.
He leaned his arm on the truck's window frame and looked outside.
Calloused hands from recent work caught his eye.
Seeing them reminded him of spring in his first year at Cheonghwa Arts High School. It was the time he was preparing for his very first exhibition—even if it was a group show.
—"Hey, Kang Seok. Why do you work so hard?"
A classmate, who had since dropped out, had asked him during a work session.
He said our skills were about the same—both at the bottom—so why was I working so hard? That guy had switched majors three times, from sculpture to design, and from design to animation.
Already disinterested in school, he was carving a twig he'd found behind the school into a Harry Potter wand and chuckling while watching me.
Come to think of it, he was a pretty odd guy too.
But to the point—he had asked, why work so hard?
Though he was laughing, his eyes were surprisingly serious for a 17-year-old.
It felt like he was genuinely searching for an answer.
What had I said back then?
—"Because I'm going to keep walking this path no matter what… Might as well work hard instead of wasting time worrying."
That's probably what I said.
To borrow the words of the old man whose thoughts dwell in me, art is exactly that.
Art is like walking a rough path whose end may not even exist.
Some walk, some run… Some, maybe unfairly, fly. But no matter how you go, everyone has to keep moving forward. And anyone can get tired.
It's a journey where only those who keep walking survive.
The walker might lose their way, the runner might tire out, and the flyer might see too much from above and get tempted by an easier path.
But if you just keep going—no matter how slowly—you'll eventually move forward.
Even if those ahead drift further away, even if someone beside you moves faster, even if someone from behind overtakes you… if you keep taking one step after another, you'll reach that end too, little by little.
If you constantly seek to learn, think endlessly about better ways, and never stop moving—anyone can go forward.
That is art.
Of course, 17-year-old me didn't think that deeply.
I wasn't improving enough to be reflecting on things like that either.
Back then, I was just like a glitched video game character, stuck in a corner hitting a wall made of talent.
But that guy—he had a look of realization on his face as he listened to me.
Maybe he really did understand. If he truly realized something, I'm sure I'll meet him again someday, in some form.
As I was thinking that—
I noticed the scenery outside had changed. Trees were all that could be seen now.
Just as I took my arm off the window to get a better look—
The truck came to a stop.
"Seok-ah."
My father's gentle voice only meant one thing.
"We're here."
It meant we had arrived.
"That was fast."
"Fast? We've been driving nearly two hours… You're not tired?"
"I'm good."
"You look tired…"
Kang Seok gave his father the biggest smile he could manage.
Left alone, his default expression leaned toward gloomy. With his unkempt appearance, he probably looked like a mess.
So he smiled as best he could to ease his father's worry and unbuckled his seatbelt.
Ahead, he saw the house of Master Yang Seon-gu.
The hanok was warmly lit, as if to welcome a guest.
Kang Seok reached for the truck door.
"Dad. Why don't you come in and say hello?"
"No need. I already saw him last time. Dropping in again would just be a burden. I'll go visit Ms. Baek who's waiting for me."
"Not even just a quick look around?"
"Nope."
With that, Kang Hyeon-do gestured for him to go.
Kang Seok slowly opened the door, looking once more at his father's face—his family, whom he would be apart from for a few days again.
"I'll be back."
"Have a good trip. Working is good and all, but sometimes drop by home too… your mom's always busy with the shop, she hardly gets to see your face."
"Ah."
"She said she's starting to forget what you look like."
Tap tap.
At Kang Hyun-do's tapping on the steering wheel, Kang Seok nodded.
"I'll stop by once before heading to Miami Beach this time."
"Yeah? When are you leaving?"
"The exhibition starts on the 16th, so I'm planning to leave comfortably on the 11th or 12th. But since today is November 30th…"
Kang Seok pondered for a moment, then spoke.
"I'll stop by home around the 10th or 11th."
"Don't overdo it."
"Yes. Then I'll really go now."
Thud.
Kang Seok closed the truck door and Kang Hyun-do watched him open the door to Yang Sun-gu's hanok, wearing a proud smile. One hand waved like a balloon, just in case Kang Seok looked back.
Well now.
Will he really be able to stop by home?
Hearing Yang Sun-gu's welcoming voice faintly through the slightly opened window, Kang Hyun-do turned the steering wheel.
Come to think of it, Kang Seok's schedule wasn't easy either. He had mentioned participating in Art Basel in Miami Beach. After finishing that, he'd have to finish the sculpture work by January.
'I should think of a way to calm Baek Yeo-sa at home.'
Couldn't he do at least that much for his son working outside? With that thought, Kang Hyun-do sank into thought as he drove out onto the road.
'…Come to think of it, visiting Art Basel in Miami Beach wouldn't be a bad idea?'
It was a good thought.
Excited at the idea of going home to persuade Baek Myung-hee, Kang Hyun-do slid down the road. Raising the driver's window to block the cold wind, he whistled.
It was a pleasant night.
Under the lighting that illuminated the dark night as brightly as the sun,
Kang Seok stood holding a grinder.
To his right was a completed sculpture of a fairy wearing wings ready to fly to the night sky. The fairy was holding two children and gazing delicately at the moon. Kang Seok looked away from the fairy.
To his left.
The sculpture to start working on today was made from the unpolished marble on the left.
Marble.
Though it's the same kind of stone, compared to granite—which is relatively abundant in East Asia like Korea—marble is relatively softer and easier to work on for fine details.
Its hardness is relatively lower than granite, and its grains are much finer, allowing it to express things like hair, skin, clothes, and textures.
This is why most sculptors or art students who specialize in sculpture prefer working with marble.
Also, its unique white color makes whatever is expressed appear beautiful. It's truly a beautiful stone.
Although preserving every fine detail requires many processes, takes time, and costs money, marble remains popular because of these qualities.
It feels like a stone sent from the heavens to carve sculptures.
Kang Seok gripped the grinder.
Yang Sun-gu watching from behind, the cameras looking down from every direction, the fairy statue holding two children—all gradually faded from Kang Seok's sight.
Only the black night and white stone remained.
A world where only three exist.
Kang Seok quietly turned on the grinder.
The sound of the spinning blade and the whistling wind, the crunch of gravel underfoot and shoes.
Through the vibration of the grinder, the trapped soul inside the white stone seemed to call out to him.
Kang Seok moved slowly.
His fingertips, pained, appeared inside the stone. His hands, hardened with calluses like his own, reached out longingly to grasp something.
Kang Seok's grinder touched the stone.
With a sound like a hose spraying water, white dust scattered into the air as if waiting eagerly. It embroidered the night sky instead of the stars swallowed by the light.
Carving the night sky and marble simultaneously, Kang Seok's hands moved.
Relentlessly, continuously.
His hands pierced deeply into one point inside the marble as if there was something there. It was as if what he held wasn't a grinder but a drill.
'If he's going to carve like that, it might not be a bad idea to get him a drill or an extension set next time.'
Yang Sun-gu, with his long white beard flowing, stared ahead.
Kang Seok stretched his leg out with his left foot on the top of the ladder, straightening his leg, while his right foot was on the marble as if climbing six steps at once, pushing the grinder deep under the marble.
Under the bright white light used for drama filming, his reddish-brown eyes shining as he pierced the marble looked remarkably like the "marble cutter" meme circulating on some online community.
Dust flew between the white goggles and the gas mask.
That too embroidered the night sky.
The live chat exploded silently like fireworks from super chats at the sight of him seemingly carving both the night sky and marble at once.
The noise from the grinder and carving made the streaming microphone mute, but viewers typed as if entranced.
[Like a silent performance.]
[Rock and roll!]
[(I'm playing rock music now. Feeling pumped. His speed is fast, charismatic, and fiery!)]
[gorgeous!]
[(I'm really looking forward to his new work. I want to see it in person even once.)]
The disappointed comments followed.
Most viewers were foreigners or living abroad, so they couldn't easily see Kang Seok's work.
[It's such a shame such a great artist is only in Korea.]
That was true.
All of Kang Seok's works were in Korea.
Their disappointment was understandable.
Then.
Less than 30 minutes after Kang Seok started streaming,
Someone sent a super chat.
[(₩100,000) On December 16th, Kang Seok's work
Bold letters colored the chat.
[(₩1,000) It's true.]
[(₩1,000) Heard it from an acquaintance.]
[(Can someone translate what this Korean is saying?)]
[(They say Kang Seok's work
The news ignited the chat like a fan heated on a stove.
[wwwwwhhhat?!!!]
[(Really???)]
[(I'm going right now!)]
[(Going to book a plane ticket.)]
[(Me too.)]
[(I'm coming too.)]
The chat exploded like a surprise action blockbuster movie announcement in midwinter.
The world's quietest frenzy was starting in Kang Seok's live streaming room.